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Ho-ly shit. Where did that come from? And why do I like it?
My stomach drops out at Julian’s confession, and my skin prickles with anticipation. “B-b-birthday, uh…” My tongue trips over the word and my cheeks are on fire. He’s teasing. I’m not a virgin, but I’m also not the girl guys want to sleep with. I’m the quirky sidekick. The friend of the hot girl they want to chat up, the one their wingman has to keep out of the way.
Julian hasn’t moved, his face only inches away. The air in my apartment is thick with tension at Julian’s change in tone. The thought of him touching me, wanting me, caresses my skin from the inside out. Heat prickles along my spine, settling in my core at the thought of having sex with Julian.
“You heard me.” His voice is low, and my clit throbs at the sound. “I’d like nothing more than to have you for breakfast.”
Did I hear him correctly? “You want to take me to breakfast?”
“I said what I meant, Frankie. I’m starving. There are many things I’d love to eat for breakfast, and since it’s your birthday, you get to choose.” His pupils dilate, our eyes still locked as my breath comes faster.
“We could get pancakes.” He leans forward an inch.
“Waffles.” Another inch.
“Avocado toast.” His beard tickles my cheek, but I don’t giggle. With a shaky breath, I turn my face, allowing him to whisper in my ear. “Eggs Benedict.” The way he drags out the three syllables of ‘Benedict’ sends a shiver down my spine.
Has breakfast food ever been this fucking sexy? I’m ready to explode and he hasn’t even touched me.
There’s the lightest touch of his lips to the shell of my ear.
“You.”
I can’t help moaning his name as I reach for him. Our lips crash together and I yank on the front of his shirt. It’s damp, and he smells of deodorant and sweat, but it only makes me want what he’s offering more. Just like Friday, he lets me lead, only touching me after I’ve touched him.
I slide my hands across his chest to his back, pulling myself deeper into the kiss. Only then does he slip one hand behind my back, the other still braced on the arm of my chair. Julian breaks away, only to trail his lips along my neck.
“Is that a yes, Frankie?” His lips graze my collarbone. “Tell me I can devour you. That I can feast on you until you come so hard you see stars. And then I’ll do it again, and again.” He grabs my chin with two strong, inescapable fingers, turning me to face him. “I’m famished, Frankie, and I don’t think I could ever get my fill of you. But I won’t take anything you don’t want to give me. You’re in control.”
Certainty fills me. I want Julian. I don’t care if this is fake, or if he’s just humoring me because it’s my birthday. “I want this. I trust you.”
His hand slides down my back to grip my hip, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my sweatpants. He’s kissing me, his lips and tongue dancing with mine as he brings his other hand to my hip as well.
I’m clenching the back of his shirt, the fabric bunching beneath my fingers. I pull back with a gasp and tug at it, but Julian sits back on his heels, out of my reach. There’s a wicked glint in his eye and a smirk on his face. “I thought you weren’t hungry?”
“Shut up. I thought I was in charge?” I lean back against the chair, arms crossed. The movement sends my chair rolling back, but Julian reaches out and grabs my ankles, releasing them from underneath me. He tugs on my sweatpants, pulling them down my hips. My butt slides with them so I’m perched precariously on the edge of the chair, my ass half-off, my ankles trapped in Julian’s grip. A squeak escapes me, and I grip the arms of the chair so I don’t fall.
He hesitates, but before he can ask me if I’m okay, I brace my feet against his thighs and lift up, allowing my sweatpants to pass my hips and slide down a little further. His grip on my ankles tightens before he releases them, only to grip my thighs instead.
With a quiet groan, he squeezes and drags his hands down my thighs, pulling my sweatpants with them. His hands are so big they wrap nearly all the way around. “I guess that answers my question.” His movement leaves me in just my tank and panties. A bone-deep desire for this man to possess me settles in my gut, the heat that’s been building in my center since Friday night radiating out and burning through me like wildfire.
I want this. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt more certain of anything in my entire life. He’s offering me a menu of options, and I know what I want. I want Julian Lockwood to put his mouth on me and make me come.
Consequences be damned.
“Julian.” He lifts his eyes to mine. “I trust you. You make me feel safe. Now make me feel good too.”
Tugging my sweatpants off my feet, Julian presses kisses along my calf to the back of my knee. He never lets go of the other leg, keeping me from rolling away. His lips are soft against me, and the contrast between them and the scrape of his beard sends waves of desire through me. My skin, so unused to being touched, is hypersensitive to each feather-light kiss as he makes his way closer and closer to my core.
“You’re so soft,” he whispers against my inner thigh, his fingers tracing up and down the outside of my leg, raising goose bumps with each pass. He pulls away and studies my leg. “I’ve already marked you.” He leans back so I can see the pink lines blooming on my skin.
I’m sprawled in the chair, but he’s so tall, all he has to do is sit up on his knees and his chest is pressed against me, his lips already claiming mine. “I like it. I like knowing that I was the one who made your pretty skin flush. That you allowed me the honor of doing that to you.”
Memories from growing up fight to swim to the surface of my mind, pulling me out of the lust-filled haze I’ve been in. Of being teased for my blindingly white legs. For being singled out as the only girl at school who didn’t go to the tanning beds.
Something must show on my face because Julian drops kisses across it, one hand wrapped around my waist, the other smoothing over the marks he left on me. “Come back to me, Frankie.”
How does he know that my brain is firing off in a thousand directions?
