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Her ass flexes, and her thighs twitch, and she comes at the sound of his voice talking about her being pregnant with our children. I’m on the edge again, and Julia…she’s cresting down the other side. I don’t want to let her go, though. She’s one of the few things that anchor me when Justin sets me afire with his touch.
So I sink my teeth into her thigh and link my arms around her hips, letting her and the straps holding her up support my weight as Justin works my body to the brink.
“Until she’s ready for my cum again, I’m going to leave it all inside of you.”
“Yes!” I grunt. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
I fist my cock as fast as I can, ignoring the pain of overstimulation and rolling around in the sharp pleasure it brings.
“From now on, I’m going to paint your insides with my cum, Remi. I want you to scream my name while I fill you up and keep you warm and wet and waiting.”
Yes!
That’s—yes. I close my eyes and let go, listening to Julia egg Justin on and Justin grunt in my ear. He comes hard and deep inside of me, and I thank him for it. Thank him for her. Thank them for making me feel…everything.
Red, I want to cry out, because even though I wasn't the one strapped and hovering over the bed, it's too much. It's always too much.
But then Justin releases Jules with the flick of a buckle there and the yank of a strap there and Julia curls up into a ball, pulling me around her.
Justin wipes us both down with warm washcloths and slips straws from bottled water between our lips and instead of red I say "thank you" as Justin tucks me safely between them and I drift off to sleep with Julia’s belly, and my baby, safe in my hands.
17
JUSTIN
April…
Twitchy. Twitchy, itchy witchy.
Julia is acting…weird. I’ve been trying to figure it out for days now. It’s driving me to distraction. Literally. I have finals in three weeks. I should be knee-deep in Advanced Digital Collections and Law Library Practices.
Instead, I’m watching Julia not drawing at the easel she’s been fiddling with for over an hour. Her hair is piled on her head with a pair of cut-offs riding low under her belly band. We’ve moved our usual Sunday lounging activities from the living room to the patio to enjoy the April sun.
But rather than bask in the springtime with a yellow pastel in hand, Jules is twitching like a fish.
“Hey, Reeeemiiiii,” I sing-song.
Julia jerks and twists around on her easel, the sound of my voice bringing her back from wherever her mind had wandered. What is going on inside that beautiful brain of hers?
“What?”
Remi and Deb are knee-deep into securing funds for A Place Of A Different Color. If he’s not asleep or staring longingly at Julia, then his nose is pressed to his tablet, crunching numbers and doing…I don’t know. I try to pay attention. I really do. Promise. But there’s a reason why I didn’t follow my sister into financing, and not giving a crap about numbers was incredibly high on that list.
“Aaaaare you hungry?”
I tick my head towards the entryway, giving it a couple of flicks in the universal language forgo the fuck away. He lifts his eyebrow in curiosity. Fine. I know I’m being cagey. I’m sweating buckets; New York in April is still that weird place where it’s forty degrees one day and eighty the next. I'm dressed for fifty and am melting sitting under my laptop and open sky with a temp that's closer to seventy.
“I guess? Sure? Why?”
“Go get us something.”
It was not a request.
Remi drops his stylist and gives a look to God.Thatlook. The‘what did I ever do to deserve this’ look. Then he turns that broody, perfect face on me.
“Seriously? You go get something. Order something. Make something. Have it delivered. Why are you bothering me with this, man?”
He tries so hard to be all big and bad. But the sides of his mouth are twitching, and I know if I leaned forward and bopped him on the nose, well, he’d hit me, but he’d do it with a smile.
