Chapter 31 - Matt and Jay
Matt’s POV
It had only been a few days since the gala, but Julianne kept showing up in my head like an earworm. I wasn’t trying to think about her. It just happened in the quiet between emails, in the middle of a meeting, even standing in line for coffee.
I was scrolling through social media, half-bored, half-avoiding another night alone with takeout. Her name showed up twice in ten minutes. A tagged photo from the event, a repost from one of her foundation’s donors. Same composed smile, same sharp presence. She looked like she belonged everywhere.
Then I saw the ad for the Harborview Art Exhibit: Modern Realism. It sounded like the kind of thing she’d appreciate. Or maybe it was just the excuse I needed. I called her.
She answered on the second ring. “Jay Raines. How may I direct your call?”
I laughed. “You answer like that for everyone?”
“Only the people I want to impress.” I could hear the smile in her voice.
If she only knew just how impressed I was with her.
“You have no idea, Julianne.”
“You caught me mid–takeout decision,” she said. “Thai or tacos. Choose wisely.”
“Depends,” I said. “ Wait. Is this a trick question?”
“Well, if you choose wrong, I may never speak to you again. No pressure.”
I smiled, leaning against the counter. “Then I’ll say Thai. More interesting leftovers.”
“Good answer.” A pause, faint rustle on her end. “Did you call to give me food advice, or is this the part where you ask me out?”
“I was working up to that.”
“Well, don’t overthink it.”
“There’s an art show at Harbourview tomorrow,” I said. “Modern realism. Supposed to be good.”
She laughed. “You mean the one with the three-thousand-dollar paintings of clouds?”
“That’s the one.”
“I like clouds,” she said. “Especially expensive ones.”
We both laughed. “You know, I don’t usually say yes this easily.”
“Seven at my place? We can Uber to Harborview so we can have a few drinks.”
“Seven sounds perfect.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jay Raines.”
I set the phone down and leaned back against the counter. The air felt lighter somehow, like she had walked into the room without being here at all.
The next evening, I stood in my living room checking the clock for the third time in ten minutes. I’d straightened the space out of habit, but it didn’t look lived in, only staged.
I caught my reflection in the window. Charcoal slacks, a white button-down rolled to the forearms, no tie. Clean shave, hair still damp from the shower. The kind of effort that women loved. A little bit of style and a little bit of bedhead.
I poured two fingers of bourbon and let it sit while I adjusted the lighting, low enough to look accidental.
She was meeting me here before the show for a drink, some small talk, something easy to step into before pretending to care about art.
When the knock came, I felt that flair of anticipation before I opened the door.
Julianne stood there in a deep green pantsuit that followed her shape like it had been tailored by someone who understood temptation as a craft. Her hair fell in soft waves, and her lips curved in a smile that felt too genuine to be rehearsed.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.”
For a beat, neither of us moved.
“Are you going to invite me in,” she teased, “or should I start appreciating the doorframe?” Funny, I thought. That’s something I could hear myself saying.
I stepped back. “Come in.”
She glanced around the space as she walked inside, her eyes catching on the view again. Good. I want her drawn to every part of what’s mine.
The bourbon glass was still waiting on the counter. I handed it to her, poured another for myself, and nodded toward the balcony. “Want to see the clouds before we pay to look at them?”
Her laugh was quiet and warm. “Lead the way.”
We stepped onto the balcony. The air was warm enough to tolerate but carried just enough bite to make her step a little closer. I set my drink down and took both of her hands, holding them out to get a good look at her.
“You. Are. Wearing that suit.”
She laughed and spun once, giving me the full view, like she wanted me to appreciate every inch of it. When she stopped, she rested a hand on her hip. “Right? You know, I love a good tailor.”
My smile said everything it needed to. Her reference wasn’t lost on me.
I closed the distance, erasing what little air had dared to exist between us.
“Since we’re being playful,” I said, my voice low, “that suit would look a thousand times better on my floor, just beside my bed, in a perfectly convenient little pile.”
Her smile turned slow and deliberate. “Now that Mr. Taylor is what I call modern realism.”
Our mouths met in a fevered kiss. It wasn’t careful or tentative. It was hunger meeting hunger, and neither of us wanted it to end.
We stumbled through the balcony doors, still kissing, our hands finding every place they shouldn’t and then going back anyway. The taste of her, the heat of her skin through the suit’s fabric, was all too much and not nearly enough.
By the time we reached the bedroom, we had started taking our own clothes off, fast and graceless, clothes hitting the floor in a line that marked our path.
Then there was nothing left to separate us.
The need was immediate, reckless, a collision that felt both inevitable and right. Every touch fed the next. Every sound drew us closer. There was no patience, no distance, just the sharp edge of wanting and the relief of finally giving in to it.
I buried my face between her breasts and plumped each one in my hands, rolling her nipples between my thumb and finger.
She pushed me back on the bed and dropped to her knees.
The lust in her eyes made my cock jerk. She pushed my legs apart enough to move her mouth to my balls.
She ran her tongue across my sack and sucked each one into her mouth.
I growled and convulsed at the same time.
She was going to devour me and I was going to let her.
She took my cock in her hand while her mouth worked my balls.
Without warning, she moved her mouth to the base of my cock, trailing her tongue up the shaft and then around the head.
She put the head in her mouth and sucked, hollowing out her cheeks and making a popping noise as she let it fall out of her mouth.
Then she went down on me, filling her mouth with my cock, then sucking up to the tip.
She began moving her head up and down, sucking, bobbing.
I was moving with her, thrusting into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat, gagging her.
She kept going. I was going to come. But then she stopped, crawled up my body like an apex predator, and positioned herself over me.
I could feel the heat from her core and her arousal spreading across my tip.
She slid down me until she was fully seated.
Then she fucked my brains out. Her breasts were in each of her hands as she rode me.
She kept going, sating her appetite, taking what she wanted from me.
Her stamina was impressive.
A thin layer of sweat was forming on both of us as our bodies continuously banged against each other.
First, it was up and down, and then she rubbed her clit against me while my cock fucked in and out of her. “Julianne… FUCK. I’m comi.. FUCK!”
I came so hard I thought it might spill out of her mouth.
She screamed my name and shuddered on top of me, losing her rhythm. We were soaking the sheets. I raised up and took her in my arms, thrusting up into her as I finished unloading.
She quaked one more time, and while she was still in my arms, we fell back on the bed.
We were breathless and didn’t speak for a long moment, just nipped at each other's lips, cheeks, and necks. Tasting each other's salt and still connected by our most intimate parts.
I rolled her over to her back and quickly retrieved a towel from my en suite bathroom. I moved her legs apart and placed the towel between them. She grinned at me.
“Matt?” She said in the smallest voice.
“Yeah.”
“I just worked up a powerful hunger.” She said, laughing.
“I’m not done with you yet. Let’s order in and fuck the rest of this night away.” I wasn’t joking. As far as I was concerned, we were just getting started.
“Pizza?”
“Yes, but my phone is in the kitchen on the counter.” I scooped her up, towel and all, and she wrapped her legs around me. “You aren’t leaving my arms tonight, Jay.”
She laughed. “I love that you called me Jay.”
I smiled, biting her neck as I planted her on the counter.
We ordered pizza, which turned out to be a form of survival.
We spent the rest of the night attached to each other on every surface we could find. The living room, the kitchen, the breakfast area, the bed. We couldn’t get enough of each other.
Morning came too soon. Julianne stirred beside me, her hair a perfect mess across the pillow, the kind of beauty that made staying in bed feel like a moral obligation.
We ended up in the shower together, half trying to clean up, half finding new reasons not to. Water poured over us as we moved in that lazy rhythm people fall into when neither wants to break the spell.
“Hey,” she said, kissing the base of my throat, “I have something to ask you.”
I brushed her wet hair from her face. “I was about to say the same thing. You first.”
“I need a date for a wedding. Not this Saturday, but the next. It’s in Chicago and I would love for you to go with me.”
“I might be able to swing that,” I said, a little too eager.
“I will be in Highland Park with my kids Friday through Sunday.”
She beamed that megawatt smile.
“Let me know. I love getting dressed up with you. What was your question for me?”
I turned her around to wash her back. “I didn’t wear a condom last night. I’m clean but…”
“I’m clean too. And I’m on birth control.”
Relief washed over me. “Good. I’m sorry I didn’t… “
“No worries,” she interrupted. “It’s something we both should have talked about before losing our minds.”
I hummed my agreement, thinking how wonderful it was having her here, in my bed, in my shower, and on birth control.
On my way to work, I dialed Sarah. I was about to abandon the call when she picked up, out of breath.
“Hey Matt.”
“Hiya, hotstuff. You okay, you sound like you’re in a sprint.”
She laughed. “Well, I am. Em forgot Uranus for her planet project, so I am back at the house to get it. Then I have to take it back to the school.”
“How does one forget Uranus?” I said, laughing.
“Tommy walked around with it all night, asking, ‘Do you know all there is to know about your anus? It’s made up of mostly gas.”
We both laughed so hard we were cackling. “That’s my boy,” I said like a proud papa.
“Yep, that is definitely you peeking out of his personality. Hey, are you still coming in next weekend?”
“Yes, that is actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Are you busy on that Saturday? I have a thing in Chicago and won’t be able to keep the kids.”
“Yes, I actually am busy on Saturday, but Mom wants the kids to come over and watch all of the Toy Story movies, so you are in luck. We can plan it for that Saturday.”
“Excellent! I am flying in Thursday night to hang with Tyler. Then I will be by the house on Friday to hang with the family, oh, and to fix the window. I don’t have to leave to head back to Charleston until Sunday at six. We should hang out when we can.”
She was silent for what felt like a full minute, then, “Okay. See you then.”
I had given up on getting her back, but co-parenting with her was a treasure.