44. Jules #2
I whimper at the picture he paints, my hands eagerly tracing the curves of his muscles.
“Imagine if someone comes in here,” he whispers in my ear. And fuck, maybe it’s my wild imagination, but I can almost hear footsteps in the hallway even though we’re the only two people in the house and Bailey is asleep.
“What are they going to think if they find their queen like this? Naked and riding the cock of a man who has no right to touch her.”
The drag and pull of his cock inside me has my eyes rolling into the back of my head.
“No one will know and this will be our dirty little secret,” I whisper.
His mouth tilts up into a wicked, sharp smirk.
“That’s right. No one has to know how eagerly you spread your legs for me.
How much you need my cock because no one else fucks you the way I do.
No one else knows your body the way I do.
Their perfect, pious queen wants to be treated like a little slut who’ll spread her legs for me whenever I ask. ”
I trace my hand up his torso, wrapping it around his throat. Drew’s eyes dilate so wide his irises disappear.
“And so what if I do?” I lower my head until my lips are inches away from his.
“What if I want to be treated like a slut?” I nip at his bottom lip.
“I get to decide what I do with my body. If I want to let you fuck me, I’ll do that.
If I want to let you pretend that you’re in charge of my body for a few desperate, shaking moments, I’ll do that, too.
Don’t forget that you’re only here because I want you here and don’t act like you’re not just as eager for my pussy.
You’re not going to stop until I tell you to stop. ”
He slams me down hard on his cock and I cry out, my hands tightening on his shoulder and throat instinctively.
“I’m not fucking stopping. Your pussy is too good and no matter who walks in here and what kind of punishment they laud on me for touching you, I’m not fucking stopping.” Drew pushes a hand between our bodies and rolls his thumb over my clit. The walls of my pussy tighten around him.
“I know exactly why I’m here. To fuck you until you can’t walk and your tight little cunt is so full of my come there’s barely any room for my cock.
When I’m done, you’re going to walk out of here with my come dripping down your thighs.
You’re going to greet your people like your body isn’t covered by my marks and your pussy isn’t throbbing because I’ve been a little too rough. ”
My orgasm hits me with the force of an angry ocean wave and sweeps me under.
My pussy clenches around his cock painfully as I drop forward, my head resting on his shoulder.
Drew curses, continuing to use my body to chase his own orgasm.
His cock twitches inside me, his groan filling the room as he comes inside me, filling me up with his hot come.
I pick up a jar of jam and place it in our shopping cart. It’s not on the list, but the jar is too cute to resist. I have to be circumspect about it, lest he notice.
Drew looks up from his phone, on which he’s reviewing the list, and my eyes immediately go to the faint red bruise on his neck.
For once, not a result of hockey, but the work of my lips this morning in the shower.
I can still feel the phantom ghost of his cock inside me.
It makes me wonder if there’s something to be said about his claim that he’s going to mold my pussy to him.
“That’s not on the list,” he says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“I have a craving for jam,” I reply.
He adjusts his glasses, his eyes narrowing on my slightly. “You have a craving for jam?”
“Yep.”
I tug the end of the cart, the basket side, to get him moving.
“You hate jam,” Drew says, tonelessly.
I gasp, looking at him in accusation. “I don’t hate jam. Stop trying to make things up.”
Drew crosses his arm, arching his brow. “You’ve hated jam since we were kids and you and Lavinia were trying to make jam filled cookies. There was jam everywhere, in your hair, on your clothes, between your toes.”
I shudder at the memory and try to keep my gag reflex at bay.
“In fact, you hate all kinds of sticky food since then and only eat it with a fork and a knife,” he adds.
“Ugh, this is the problem with dating someone who knows your ancient history,” I grumble.
I reach for the jam jar, ready to put it back on the shelf. Drew takes it from my hand, looking at the label.
“You’re also allergic to strawberries,” he says.
“Alright, I get it.” I roll my eyes. “You know me and I can’t be frivolous.”
Smiling at me, he sets the jam jar back in the cart. “You can be frivolous. I just want you to admit that’s what you’re doing instead of lying.”
Reaching out, he grabs the jar for the other five flavors of jam.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He looks at me in question. “Are we really going to buy just one cute jar of jam? All the flavors are in different jars.”
I let out a quiet squee, grabbing two jars and adding them to the cart. I’ll find some way to use them and then the jars will be empty. I’m not sure yet what I’m going to do with them yet, but they’re mine now.
The endorphin rush from buying cute stuff is exactly what I needed after last night. I know my mother isn’t going to let things drop, it’s not in her nature. But what can she do? They’re already selling Gemma’s apartment--I don’t care what they say, it was never theirs in spirit.
Drew isn’t a pathetic loser so I don’t have to worry about him cheating on me. They don't know anything about my writing career. Which leaves the podcast, and Lavinia and I knew from the start that it would be a risk. Thankfully, VMC has lawyers who will shut down any nonsense quickly.
I don’t want to get smug about it, but there’s also nothing I can think of which she can take from me.
Drew brushes his thumb against my cheek, drawing my attention.
“Don’t think about them,” he says softly. “They’re not worth your attention and time. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it together.”
Taking a breath, I exhale loudly. “I know. They’re already selling the apartment, they can’t do anything worse than that.”
Drew grabs the cart handle, pushing it down the aisle. “I’d ask why they didn’t just sell it to you, but I’m guessing the answer is your mother just didn’t want to.”
“I can’t talk about them anymore.” I shake my head. “I know she’s going to do something to retaliate and the more I think about it, the more of a headache I have.”
Drew grabs my hand, kissing the back of it. “How about we finish shopping, go home, and take Bailey for a walk in the park?”
I smile up at him, relief flooding my body just at the idea of fresh, cool air, the crunch of fallen leaves beneath my boots. “That sounds wonderful.”