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Mysavior.
Myforever.
Myseductor.
Julius crashes down on top of me, sighing. His body trembles from the effort. Sweat from holding himself back from pounding into me coats his chest, making his skin slippery and hard to hold on to. But I don’t let that stop me as I dig my nails into his pecs, the crescent moon shapes marking him as mine.
It’s lascivious.
“Move, Julius. Take me, own me, claim me.”
A growl reverberates through his chest, pulsating into mine. “Mine.”
“Yours,” I agree. “Now prove it.”
“It’d be my pleasure,” he murmurs, slightly pulling back then sliding back in. It becomes a dance between lovers. His withdrawal and depth interchange. Sometimes, it’s barely a kiss of movement, and other times, it’s drastic.
He swivels his hips randomly, hitting that special place inside that has me detonating. I become active, my pelvis shimmies, raises, meeting him thrust for thrust. We don’t waltz around each other. We draw each other in, needing skin-to-skin contact. We aren’t bashful about proving how much we desire the other.
He pumps steadily inside of me, reaching out and plucking my extended nipples. The combination from the stretching of my inner walls so good as I accept his girth, while he simultaneously pulls at my protruding buds, has me crying out his name with exuberance. As soon as my belly begins to tingle, he jerks out of me, and lightly smacks me on my inner thigh to get my attention.
“I’m going to turn you onto your belly, love. I want you to raise your knees and plaster your chest to the bed.”
When I get into the position he indicated, a thundering moan greets my ears. Another groan meets my ears as he conveys, “You are utter perfection. I’ve never seen something so beautiful in my goddamn life.” He spreads my cheeks and leans over my back, nudging his way back inside of me. His breath tickles my neck as he glides in and out of me. His hands come around to my front, gripping my breasts in his hands. He pounds into me, and a sound unlike any I’ve ever made before escapes me.
“J-J-Julius,” I stutter, seeking redemption and searching for completion. I don’t understand how something that feels so perfect is considered to be so deplorable.
I pant and wail out his name as I explode around his girth. My walls tighten, trying to hold him as my hostage, making each lunge and lurch of his grinding dick feel ten times more potent. He follows shortly afterward, mewling my name in response to the immense emotion of his orgasms.
He made my first time consummating our relationship perfect.
He was the missing part of my soul. We are now forever linked as one.
Julius
Yesterday,the paint was delivered. I’ve hung up my suit and am in sweats and a tank top as we roll the color she’s chosen onto the walls.
We are working with two different tones. The darker one, the one we’ll use as an accent wall, is a mixture of purple and pink, coming out as a dark lavender pigment. This is the same shade that will be used in the bathroom with silver hardware, replacing the gold. The surrounding walls will be white, brightening the room and making it appear bigger, warmer, and more inviting.
I approved everything she brought to me. I didn’t always see her plan of combining everything together. It all seems mixed and matched to me, but even if I didn’t one hundred percent like any of it, I would’ve jumped onboard and approved it. She’s become passionate about this project, and it’s that smile on her face that makes me happy, settled, and elated.
“What do you think?” she asks as we finish with the first coat.
“I think it’s nice. But it’s a blank canvas. I won’t truly get a feel for it until it all comes together,” I answer, wanting to be honest, but in a nurturing way so that she doesn’t think I’m being a bastard. “Design isn’t in my repertoire, but I’m here to be your muscle.”
“I can’t wait!” she exclaims, bouncing on her feet and clapping her hands. Thankfully, she put her roller down first so that paint isn’t splattered over our hard work.
“It’s going to be exciting seeing your vision come to life,” I tell her. “Seeing it on your vision board doesn’t do it justice. Already it looks different from everything you pasted on the rough draft, and we haven’t even brought in the furnishings or accessories yet.”
“I just hope all the duvets and chairs match like I’m thinking they will,” she confesses, nibbling on her bottom lip. Damn, it's fucking cute as hell when she does that. I forgot how much these small gestures from a woman I’m in love with mesmerizes me. I’m not sure how she made that impossible feat happen, but yes, I’ve admitted to myself that no matter how short our time together has been, I’m utterly enraptured and in love with this woman. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life worshipping her.
“Come on, baby. Let’s go to my room and clean up,” I state, holding my hand out to her. “We have to let this dry before we can apply the second coat. We’ll hit that tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she agrees, reaching out and placing her hand in mine. “Can I wash you?”
“Yes. Every damn day if you’d like, Shayne.”
“I’d like. Very much,” she sassily says.
