by Virna DePaul
I’m about to say that I can’t when Bastian answers for me. “She’ll be busy. We’ll be busy.”
Ryland frowns. I turn back toward Bastian, and I shiver at the look in his eyes.
Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought Bastian Rich would ask me out, let alone be jealous of another guy flirting with me. But when I look at Ryland again, he doesn’t seem upset, so I assume that his flirtation is only to keep himself from getting bored. I can’t imagine two hot guys are that into me at the same time.
We stay for a little longer, but then Bastian whispers in my ear, “Let’s go.”
I nod.
We make our goodbyes, and then I’m back in Bastian’s car. He’s taking me back to my place, and my mind is awhirl. Do I invite him inside? But if I do, does that say I want to sleep with him? Thing is, I do want to sleep with him. Badly. That knuckle stroking got me all hot and bothered, which is an embarrassing thing to admit, but it’s true.
Bastian glances at me periodically, but doesn’t say anything. Sometimes I feel like he can hear my thoughts. Does he know I want him so much it almost hurts? Am I imagining that he might want me just as badly? Nervous by the silence that’s growing longer by the second, I ask, “What did you think of Ryland’s music?”
“It was nice.”
“Nice? That’s it? Come on, you had to have liked some of it.”
“I’m not a huge music fan,” he says with a shrug.
“What? How can you not like music? It’s so . . .” I struggle to find the words. “It can say things we don’t know how to put into words.”
He looks a little surprised by my vehemence. “Do you play?” he asks.
“Sort of. I used to sing and play guitar, but I haven’t much lately.”
“Why not?”
Not something I want to get into. “I actually went to school as a music major, but after I dropped out, I just . . . stopped.” I turn to look out the window, hoping he’ll let the subject go.
He’s silent for the remainder of the ride, and before long he pulls into my complex. I open my door before he gets around to the other side and I practically bolt to my apartment. But he’s right behind me, and when I’m fumbling with my key, he’s standing next to me.
“I had a great time. Thanks again for taking me out,” I say.
“I’m glad you liked it.”
I fiddle with my keys, and they make a jangling noise into the quiet night. “Well, I’d better go. It’s late.”
I turn, but Bastian touches my arm. And then he says my name in that voice of his that could get me to do anything he wanted. “Julia.”
When I look back toward him, he’s gazing at me with an intensity that sets my body on fire. I want him to kiss me, touch me—hell, take me against the wall and make me scream. I start trembling, or maybe I’m shivering from the cold. I don’t even know anymore.
He strokes my cheek with the lightest of touches. “Your skin is so soft,” he marvels.
I close my eyes. My heart pounds.
Then he kisses me.
It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I’m no starry-eyed virgin by any means, but this kiss makes me feel like I am one. It’s gentle, searching, and he gets me to lean into him. I clutch at his shirt, because I feel like I’m going to collapse if I don’t have something to hold onto. His lips move over mine, seducing me. He strokes my throat and says in a low voice, “Open for me.”
I do. I’ll do anything he wants. And when his tongue enters my mouth, my body lights up. My nipples tighten and I know I’m getting wet. His tongue dances inside my mouth, tangling with my own, stroking the inside of my cheeks. The kiss turns demanding and intense. He isn’t asking anymore; he’s taking.
I want him to take me more than anything I’ve ever wanted before.
When he kisses down my throat, he asks, “Can we take this inside?”
I’m all fire. I can’t think. But somehow I turn and unlock the door, and then he’s on me and I’m just as desperate. Buttons pop and I’m pretty sure he tears my dress, but neither of us cares. In between undressing, we kiss, and when he strokes my breasts through my strapless bra, I moan so loud he laughs softly.
Samson, being a cat, uses this moment to come up to us and meow plaintively. Bastian jumps a little at the sound, and when all he sees are Samson’s yellow eyes, he stiffens. “What the holy hell is that?”
I laugh. I flip on a lamp and then pick Samson up, who’s blinking in confusion at all of the noise. “Samson, meet Bastian. What he meant to say was that he’s happy to meet you. Isn’t that right?”
“Very nice to meet you,” Bastian says dutifully, petting the cat before I set him on the ground. Then he looks at me. “Now, where were we?”
I’m not laughing anymore.
We stumble into my bedroom and collapse onto my bed. I thank God and any other deity I can think of that I cleaned my apartment yesterday, because normally my bed is a mess of clothes and books. But, then again, based on Bastian only looking at me? I’m not sure he’d care if my place were a wreck.
He kisses me and then kisses down my body. He buries his face between my breasts, plumping them with his hands, stroking my nipples through my bra. Finding the clasp in front, he unhooks it with a deft touch and then plays with my breasts, feasting on them, sucking them so hard I see stars. My hips buck underneath him when he nips at the tender tips. Stroking his hair, I can’t help but watch him. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen and I shift up against him, wanting to feel even more of him.
I told myself I wouldn’t sleep with Bastian on the first date. But now that he’s touching me, kissing me, his hands stroking across my body? I’m glad I broke that promise. Because nothing could tear me away from this moment.
He cups my breasts in his hands again and says against my throat, “I wanted to see these beauties the first moment I saw you.”
I laugh. “So you’re a breast man, I take it?”
“When they’re your breasts, most definitely.”
He takes my already swollen right nipple into his mouth again and sucks. I moan into the ceiling, not caring if my neighbors hear me. Let them hear. I’m getting the best sex of my life for once.
His fingers dance down my body, inching below the elastic of my underwear. He pets me, lightly stroking my outer lips. Growling, he parts my folds and says, “You’re so wet. Wet for me, Julia? Do you want me that badly?”
I buck against his hand. He plays with me, drawing out the pleasure until it’s painful. He strokes through my folds, spreading the moisture, just dipping his index finger inside of me. I feel like I’m about to burst. I try to find some friction, but he keeps me still as he pets me.
“So soft and wet. I bet if I did this—” he thumbs my clit and I gasp “—you’d come for me. Wouldn’t you? Let’s try it, shall we?” He presses harder on my clit, rubbing it before thrusting his index finger inside of me.
It only takes a moment. I shoot off like a rocket, my hips still bucking, and he rubs my clit until I’m limp as a rag doll.
He quickly strips off his jeans, and I can see the outline of his cock in his boxers. His XL-sized cock. I shiver a little.
“I’m going to fuck you now, Julia,” he says to me, reaching for his wallet and pulling out one of those infamous condoms. “I’m going to fuck you until you scream.”
I slide my underwear down and off, parting my legs. “Then what are you waiting for?” I ask.
9
Bastian
My mind goes blank, seeing Julia splayed before me, a feast for the taking. Her cunt is wet and pink from her orgasm, and my cock twitches looking at her. She’s flushed all over. Pride fills my chest, knowing that I got her off that quickly.
I strip off my boxers and after sheathing myself in one of the condoms I always keep in my wallet, I part Julia’s legs farther and settle between them. We both groan as my cock brushes against her wet center, and I lean down to kiss her.
It’s a wild kiss, al
l teeth and tongues. My hands grip her knees, and I sit up to give myself leverage. She’s breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling. If I didn’t want to fuck her so badly, I’d play with her breasts all night.
I take my cock in hand and then feed it inside of her, watching as I sheath myself in her warmth. Her hips move up, but I keep her steady. I go as slowly as I can, mostly because I don’t want to hurt her. I watch to make sure she isn’t uncomfortable, as I’m on the larger side, but I see only desire in her eyes as I fill her.
Then I’m completely inside her, balls deep, and I groan. It’s the best feeling I’ve had in a long time.
“Are you okay?” I ask. Please say yes, I think.
She nods, and then when she stretches her arms above her head, putting her magnificent breasts on display?
I lose it.
I take hold of her behind her thighs and begin moving, thrusting in and out of her with long strokes. She arches in response, moaning. Sweat beads on my forehead. The pleasure is so intense I can feel my balls tightening already, but I make myself keep going. I can’t let go yet.
She’s so tight and wet and hot, though. It’s driving me to the brink of insanity. I thrust harder, fucking her to the point that her hands bounce against the headboard. The mattress squeaks and I’m sure everyone in the building can hear us, but I don’t care. I don’t care if they hear us because I’m inside Julia and it’s even better than I imagined.
She moves her arms down and sits up a little, her back propped against the pillows. Her face is flushed and her eyes flash, and I don’t think I’ve seen anything hotter. I make sure to thrust inside of her until I hit that ideal angle . . . and when I do, she tips her head back and moans into the night.
“God, Bastian, don’t stop, don’t stop,” she chants. She touches her breasts, and the sight goes straight to my cock. If anything, I get harder, but she doesn’t stop. She plays with her nipples until I’m completely lost: lost watching her, being inside her.
“Come for me.” I brush my thumb against her quivering clit, and I can feel her contracting around me. I rub harder, muttering her name underneath my breath.
She arches and lets out a mix of a scream and a groan, my name on her tongue, and then her entire body trembles. She jerks and quivers, her pussy gushing warmth, and I lean down and kiss her. I thrust my tongue inside her mouth and taste her ecstasy.
Then I’m coming, too, and I swear I black out. The pleasure is dizzying. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever known. My balls contract and I’m filling her, until I’m drained and can barely stay sitting up. I kiss her one last time, still inside of her.
Exhausted, happy, I roll off of her and dispose of the condom before returning to the bed. She’s breathing hard, flushed and languid. I pull her close, spooning behind her.
When I wake up the next morning, I’m confused about two things: one, why my blanket is so scratchy and two, why there’s a cat sitting on my hip. Then I realize I’m not at home, but at Julia’s.
Julia’s still asleep, and I can see her shoulder rising and falling as she breathes. Her hair is a mess, tumbled around her as she sleeps. She has circles under her eyes from her mascara, and her lipstick is smeared.
She’s also the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
I kiss her neck, inhaling her scent. Memories flood me of the night before, and I have to restrain myself from waking her and taking her again. God, the sex last night! I’ve had my share of lovers, but nothing could compare to Julia. She was so responsive to my touch that it had been a huge turn-on. Plus, she has a body to die for.
The cat yawns and hops off of me, preferring to curl up next to his mistress. I can’t really blame him; if I were a cat, I’d curl up next to Julia, too.
I watch her sleep for a little while, until I see her lashes flutter. Then she’s awake, and when she sees me, her eyes widen.
“Oh,” she says. Then she blushes. “Ooooooooh.”
I kiss her. “Good morning.”
She snuggles deeper into the blankets, suddenly shy. “Good morning.”
“Are you hungry? Or maybe I can get us some coffee?”
She blinks at me, still sleepy and a little embarrassed. “I have a coffeepot,” she murmurs. “I can make some for us.”
I stroke her face. “I’ll do it,” I say as I get up.
As I’m preparing the coffee, I go over everything that happened last night in my mind: the concert, Ryland Masters, kissing Julia. Making love with Julia. My groin tightens instantly, and I have to restrain myself from leaving the coffee to rot and going right back to her.
Down, boy, I tell myself. Give the girl a little time to recover.
Pouring the coffee into the filter, I’m suddenly hit with feelings of guilt. Guilt, because I told myself I wouldn’t get involved with Julia after learning my lupus had returned. But look what happened. I have about as much self-control as a thirteen-year-old boy finding his first nudie magazine.
I stare at the coffeepot as it hisses and begins brewing the dark liquid. Part of me argues I’d made a mistake but I can still rectify things. I can tell Julia that as much as I enjoyed being with her, this was a one-time thing.
But I already know that I won’t be able to stay away from her.
Taking up two mugs of hot coffee, I hand one to Julia, who’s now dressed and sitting up. Her hair’s somewhat less rumpled, and it looks like she washed her face, as all of her makeup is gone. She looks squeaky clean and radiant, and if I didn’t have a mug of coffee in my hand, I would’ve leaned down to kiss her.
“Did the coffeepot work? Sometimes it just sits there and does nothing and it’s really annoying. I’ve been meaning to replace it, but . . .” She looks away, embarrassed.
I decide not to point out that me bringing her coffee shows that the coffeepot worked. Instead, I sip the brew and let her calm down.
“I’m not usually like this.”
I look at her. She’s biting her lower lip.
“Not like what?” I ask gently.
“I never sleep with a guy on the first date. Never. I just don’t want you to think I’m that kind of girl.”
I have to stifle a smile. She’s so adorable that I end up kissing her, tasting toothpaste and coffee on her tongue. “Julia,” I murmur against her mouth, “I don’t care if you are—or are not—like some type of girl. I had a great time last night. I hope you did as well.”
Her agitation seems to melt away, and then she’s smiling that smile I missed. Then she laughs a little. “I did. I’m shocked you’d even ask that.”
“Why?”
She motions at me in some vague gesture. “Because you’re you! And I’m . . . me.” Shrugging, she adds, “Guys like you don’t usually go for girls like me.”
Now I’m really confused. “Guys don’t go for attractive women close to their age?”
“Oh come on, I’m not some drop-dead gorgeous model. I can achieve cute on a good day.” She stares at me, as if daring me to deny it.
I do deny it, though. “You’re extremely attractive, and sexy, and yes, beautiful. But you’re also funny and smart. That’s why I asked you out, Julia. And why I fucked you so hard and came faster than I wanted. You make me lose control in ways I’ve never experienced before.”
I watch in amusement as a blush climbs up her face. It starts from her chest and eventually her whole face is red. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s just one more thing about her that I can’t help but find charming.
I lean forward and kiss her again. She kisses me back, and I’m about to push her down onto the bed when she blurts out, “I need to take a shower.” She pushes at me, and I release her.
Hurrying out of the room, she rushes to the bathroom and shuts the door.
10
Julia
I’m an idiot. A giant, complete, 100 percent idiot.
What kind of girl interrupts a guy kissing her to go take a shower by herself?
One whose dreams seem to be coming true and is d
eathly afraid she’s going to do something to ruin it.
In the bathroom now, I swear softly and hit my head against the door.
I still can’t believe Bastian wants to keep seeing me. But sometimes big things like this freak me out, and I have to get some breathing room. Stepping away from the door, I go to the bathroom mirror.
I’m not sure what he sees in me, frankly. Like I told him, I’m not drop-dead gorgeous. I’m not going to win any beauty pageants. I’m not skinny, I don’t have cheekbones that could cut glass, my eyes are a boring shade of brown. My hair is nice-ish, I guess. Studying my reflection, I notice a zit forming on my chin. I sigh. Just my luck.
I begin to undress, but as I stand up, I see red marks on my shoulder and neck. Then I blush scarlet. Bastian gave me hickeys! I twist and turn, and there are even some marks on my back. I’ve never in my life had a guy give me this many hickeys during sex. I’m both embarrassed and rather pleased with myself.
I turn on the water, testing the temperature. I’m about to get in when I hear a knock at the door, and then his voice. “Julia? Are you all right?”
I whirl, get my foot caught in the bathmat, and barely keep myself from falling on my face with a curse. I snag a towel and wrap it around myself. But before I open the door, I gaze at myself in the mirror.
I take a deep breath. Then another. “You got this, Julia,” I tell myself. “You got this. Don’t back down now.”
I open the door, peering out at Bastian. His face is creased with concern, and I feel guilty for making him worry.
“Are you all right?” he asks me again.
I almost tell him that I’m fine and I’ll be done soon. But then I think about my reflection telling me not to back down. You got this. You got this!
I pull the door wider.
And then I say in the sexiest voice I can muster, “Will you join me?”
