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“Focus on what’s happening right now, not wherever your head went.” He kisses my eyelids, forcing them closed. “Keep your eyes closed. Concentrate on what you feel.”
I do as instructed, keeping my eyes closed, the warmth and weight of him pinning me to the chair. I take a deep breath, my chest pressing up against his. I focus on the way his hand strokes my side, creeping under my tank. He guides my legs until they wrap around him, my heels resting in the groove above his ass.
His hands are warm against my skin, a little rough. I gasp when Julian kisses along my stomach, following my tank as he pushes it up. The air in my apartment is cool, and goose bumps pebble my skin, chased away by the heat of his breath and lips as they mark every inch of me.
Julian makes his way over every square inch of my stomach until I’m dying. My boobs and pussy are throbbing at the need to be touched, yet he doesn’t go near them. The thought of asking for him to touch them, saying those words out loud, threatens to pull me away from the moment. So I settle for, “Please, Julian.” I breathe out the words, eyes still closed, hands gripping the armrests of my chair.
I feel him chuckle against my skin. “Please, what?” He goes back to dragging his tongue along the waistband of my underwear, his fingers digging into my thigh.
Stepping away from the pastor’s kid identity in college was one thing, brazenly asking him to touch my body is something else. I don’t want to fight with my mind right now, I just want to enjoy this. How can using a few stupid words be ruining this moment?
Besides, if he doesn’t touch me soon, I’m going to scream.
Maybe I don’t have to use words. I can barely string two of them together now as it is.
He’s worked me up into a squirming, desperate ball of want. Of need.
Fuck waiting.
If using words is going to ruin this for me, I just won’t ask. I open my eyes and push him back. He sits back on his heels, one eyebrow raised. I don’t wait for him to ask what I’m doing. I plant my feet on the floor and keep sliding off the chair and onto his lap, straddling his hips with my thighs. Without missing a beat, I grab the sides of his shirt and slide it up and off him because dammit, I’ve wanted to see his tattoos since my first day at Mailbox, and he’s always kept them hidden. As if he knows what I want, Julian leans back on his hands, his chest on display for me.
I trace my fingers along the designs. A pair of Celtic dragons sit on his shoulders, the scales of the one on his left creeping up his neck, the same scales that have been teasing me for months. The Celtic knot design making up their bodies twists into a tangle of vines and flowers as it descends over his forearms, ending in those little purple flowers I’d spied.
Between them, a riot of geometric knotwork covers his torso. I spy a bear and a mask among the interlocked lines, but nothing prepared me for the definition of his abs beneath them.
Without conscious thought, a half-formed idea tries to escape. “Fuck. How do you…? Never mind. Not important right now.” My mind buffers somewhere on the ridges of his eight-pack.
Grinning, Julian shifts, wrapping one arm around my waist and lifting me up before straightening his legs out beneath me. “What else do you want, Frankie?”
The art on his body had distracted me, but at his question, my raw need comes back with a vengeance. I grab the hem of my tank and pull it off to the sound of his groan. What I want to say is, “If you don’t pay attention to my tits in the next ten seconds, I’m going to kick you out.”
What I actually do is make a needy moan that’s cut off by the splay of Julian’s hands across my back. My spine arches, bringing my breasts up to his eager mouth, and he buries his face between them.
Dropping my head back, I close my eyes again as Julian takes one of my aching nipples between his teeth, biting gently before closing his lips over it and sucking. Relief floods through me as he works the tender skin between his lips, his teeth, his fingers. My hips rock against him involuntarily, the heat pooling between my legs easing at the motion.
I rest my hands on his thighs behind me, pressing my chest up. Everything he’s doing feels so good, and yet, I need more. I stay there for a few more minutes, enjoying the sensation. Julian switches to my other breast, taking the nipple between his teeth and biting with more force, then flicking the tip with his tongue. I groan, the hint of pain almost enough to make me come, but like an itch I want to keep scratching, not satisfied yet.
Releasing my tit with a little ‘pop,’ Julian slams his lips to mine in a feral kiss. “You like that, huh? A little pain with your pleasure?” I dig my nails into his thigh, diving back into his mouth. For a frenzied moment, we’re nothing more than teeth, tongues, nails, and bodies clashing, trying to claw and climb our way into each other’s skin.
Then I pull away with a gasp, lightheaded and dizzy. Hand on his chest, I push until he’s flat on his back, my knees falling to the floor beside his hips. “I’ve never thought about what I want, to be honest. No one’s ever asked me before.” My confession startles me. I hadn’t intended to speak, but to stay silent and not do anything to ruin the moment. But it’s the truth.
I brace my hands against his broad chest, too small to reach around his rib cage, and grind my hips against his. His thick cock swells beneath me, his sweatpants doing nothing to stop it from pressing against my clit.
The pressure is almost perfect as I ride him. An orgasm hovers nearby. I could chase it if I wanted, tempting me to speed up. Julian’s hands grip my hips, slowing me down. Confused, I freeze. “What are you doing?”
“First of all, if you keep that up, Rocky, I’m going to embarrass myself before I can give you your birthday orgasms. Secondly, we’re going to have a conversation about what you just said, but not right now.”
If I thought I had any idea of how fit Julian is, he proves that my imagination wasn’t nearly good enough. Rolling up to sitting using nothing but his abs—I watch, fascinated as they flex beneath me—he picks me up by the hips until my feet are beneath me and I’m standing in front of him. He doesn’t pause before pulling my underwear down, helping me step out of it one foot at a time.
With one smooth movement, Julian slides on the floor until his back is against the wall. “Come here,” he orders, tugging my hips until I’m standing in front of him, one foot on either side of his long legs. “I would hold you up, but frankly, it was arm day, and I don’t want to drop you.”
“What are you doing?” Until this second, I hadn’t thought about what I was doing, Julian’s lips and hands successfully distracting me from my decision to do this. But now I’m standing naked in my apartment, with a man who isn’t even my real boyfriend, my body covered in red marks from his teeth and beard.
Large hands grab my ass and pull me closer, Julian licking his lips as I stumble forward. “I’m having breakfast. I told you, Frankie—I’m starving.”
Thirteen
Julian
