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“Fuck off,” she growled, and bit my bottom lip. “I feel good enough for this. Ineedthis.”
Chapter Seventeen
Evelyn
In retrospect, he was probably right.
I probably should not have had sex that night. I was running on the adrenaline of surviving another encounter with Garth, and the self-hatred from seeing my best friend’s eyes turn cold against me. All I could focus on washim—Julian. Beneath me, he was solid, he was real. I could count on his body’s reaction to mine, and if it was the only thing I could count on, I was damn well going to. I didn’t know if things would ever be the same with Hannah, so I had to get my fill of Julian while I could.
I knew that a day might come soon when I couldn’t be with him.
“Evelyn—” he tried to protest, and I pulled back.
“Do you really not want this, or are you just worried about me?”
“I’m worried about you! How could I not be when—”
I swallowed the rest of the words, and let him feel me. I ripped my—his—shirt off my body, and bared my chest. I pushed the fabric of his own shirt up so I could lap at the smooth planes of his abs. They weren’t ridiculously defined, but I still liked being able to see them. I drew my nails down his sides and when he growled, I knew I’d won him over.
Julian was still very gentle in the way he handled me, but his actions were definitely rougher. The next thing I knew, I was under him, completely at his mercy. What I hadn’t expected was for him to stare me down, before moving his whole body down. He paid homage to my thighs after he pulled off my pants, kissing and biting and nipping and creating beautiful spots of unbearable pleasure in a place I thought was just flesh and muscle and bone. He moved his mouth up, and tentatively, drew his nose up my folds. I shivered at the motion, but that was nothing compared to the gasp I elicited when he probed my entrance with his tongue. I grabbed at my own hair with one of my hands, unsure of what to do with them while he was down there. I could feel my mouth open into a silent ‘o’ of pleasure, and he grinned devilishly when he looked up. Irritated at his smugness, I used my spare hand to press him back into me, and I didn’t know where he learned to move his tongue likethat, but it was doing unholy things to my body. I moaned and mewled, and let him build me right up to that enticing edge, where I had to pull his face up.
“I’ll come if you keep going,” I murmured.
“Good,” he smirked.
I shivered when he went back down, and when that edge rolled closer, I braced myself. Julian laved at me through the climax, and kept going until my hips were stuttering in pathetic jerks, overstimulated. Only then did he relent and pull himself up to kiss me, the earthy taste of my own release on his lips. I tried to reach down to return the favor, but apparently Julian wasn’t done with me yet. He shook his head and gave that smug smile again. One of his hands danced down to that tender nub and began abusing it, while the other one reached to tug at the hair at the nape of my neck. The mixture of sensations was almost paralyzing. After a moment, I was able to trust that he knew not to tug my head back—my neck was still too sore.
Next, he dipped his head to one hardened nipple, that he took between his teeth and rolled like it was a toy. The myriad of sensations had me arching against him, and I whimpered.
“Good, baby?” he asked, voice hoarse.
I couldn’t do much but let out another moan. Julian increased his roughness then. His mouth bit down and pulled away to move to the other nipple. His hand pressed harder, two fingers dipping inside of me, gently stretching. His hands pulled tighter and I couldn’t do much but fall into the deliciousness of it wracking my body. I let him do what he wanted, and without warning, I was assaulted by waves of my own orgasm, cresting from what felt like nowhere and drowning me. I fell apart under his hands, and when I was able to re-focus on the man above me, he was lining himself up.
The stretch, as always, was tight. It was more delightful now that I had some experience with it, and I relished in those first calm thrusts when he got me used to his size. When Julian started moving faster, I let him keep going. The feeling was perfect, the feeling was everything. He wasn’t whispering his love for me in my ears like usual, and I wasn’t reaching up for kisses. Instead, we joined, again and again, and the emotion radiated across us. I knew he loved me, he didn’t need to say it. Before I knew it, I was building back up, even though I’d already come twice. My brain started blanking out, and when he pressed a determined thumb to my clit, I almost screamed. He fucked me through it, his hips stuttering into the warm release I felt flood me.
Julian was always thorough with the aftercare. I let him clean me up because I knew he liked to do it, and then I went to the bathroom. When I came out, he was in bed already. I climbed back into his arms silently, and he held me. Sleep came this time, albeit reluctantly. I prayed that, like I’d always believed, things would look brighter in the light of day.
Things didn’t look brighter.
The day was gray and dismal, with clouds that threatened snow but never delivered. I ate breakfast alone while Julian made phone calls and did damage control. Apparently, he’d heard I was in hospital and flew straight from Chicago. He literally walked out of a meeting that could have secured an even more lucrative future for his business. The thought touched and irritated me in equal measure. It wasn’t that I thought he needed more money, but that I didn’t want to be the reason he was making sacrifices in any area of his life. I was already causing strife between him and his daughter, he couldn’t start having conflicts at work.
I continued eating, buttered toast in front of me turning cold. I hadn’t wanted anything else, even though Andrew had looked prepared to make me anything I wished for. I wanted to feel an ounce of normalcy, and somehow, buttered toast was it. In the cafe I’d worked in in Millcreek, Utah, the cook would always stuff me with buttered toast. It was cheap and cheerful, he said, and I was too starved to refuse any food. That cafe had been one of the happier times of my life, where I had found people that accepted me, paying me without questioning my identity. I always got the impression that it was a bit of a place for misfits. The cook, Joe, was an ex-con who had been wrongly implicated in his brother’s murder. The owner had taken in foster kids, and the other waitresses all came from somewhere they didn’t want to talk about. We’d been a motley crew, but we had worked. Aside from Joe, and the owner, there was a fairly high turnover at the cafe. Maybe I’d go back there if I needed to leave. I could legally get a job, live off of buttered toast and all the shifts God sent. I’d actually get a car.
But I wouldn’t have Julian. I wouldn’t have Hannah.
I put the thought out of my mind. I wasn’t about to let my own stupidity get in the way of a future brighter than the greasy spoon that had taken me in. Today, I would have to talk to Hannah. I would have to see if there was any way to make amends, to apologize so profusely that she understood that it wasn’t a matter of choosing between her and her father, because I’d chosen her for as long as I could. I wanted both of them in my life. Just because I was with Julian, it didn’t stop her being my best friend. I stood, resolute that I would make her understand, before deciding that it might be a good idea to change out of her father’s pajamas before making my case.
I slipped into jeans and an old t-shirt, the one that used to be my uniform for the Millcreek diner. Then, I headed over to Hannah’s room. It felt weird to knock. I’d never had to do that before. I did though, too worried about crossing more lines. There was no answer, so I hesitantly knocked again, having flashbacks to the night I knocked on Julian’s door and received no answer. He and his daughter were more alike than they knew. This time, from within, came an irritated grunt. I took it to be as much of an invite as I was going to get, and I walked in. Hannah, as usual, was already up and dressed. She was at her desk, typing furiously. The essay was one we had agreed to do together because it was a pain in the ass. I ignored this petty betrayal, because she had the right to be as petty as she wanted to.
“Hannah,” I said quietly, “Can we talk?”
“I have nothing to say to you,” she snapped, not even looking up.
“Hannah,please.”
It was a little useless trying to communicate if she wouldn’t even talk.
“You can talk, but you can’t make me listen,” she growled.
