Julian's Pursuit

by Lovell, Haleigh

  “Let me take care of you,” I rasped, taking the soap from her.

  Lather bubbled through my fingers as I twirled the bar around and around in my hands.

  Then, palms filled with airy suds, I crouched down behind her and washed her long, slender legs. Starting at her ankles, I let my hands travel up, caressing the insides of her slippery thighs before sliding back, smoothing my palms over the rounded curve of her ass in circular motions, reveling in the silky smoothness of her soft skin under my calloused fingertips.

  Then I reached for the bar of soap to gather more lather before bringing my arms around her glistening tits, filling my palms with her breasts, shaping them with my soap-slicked hands.

  With slow, rhythmic strokes, I caressed her creamy tits, lifting and pushing them together as I slid my body along the length of hers, using the wet glide of our soapy bodies to increase the fluidity of my motions.

  Ah, fuck. She felt so fucking good against me… all that soft, silky skin, and all those lush, supple curves moving against the hard planes and muscles of my body.

  Slippery from the suds that still lingered on our skin, the stiff ridge of my erection slid up and down the cleft of her ass, gliding between her slick thighs as I continued to lather her breasts with suds, massaging the soap deep into her skin.

  “It’s particularly filthy around here,” I rasped in her ear as I covered her engorged nipples with my thumbs and began making a series of lazy circles, swirling around and around until the peaks were stiff and covered in frothy white suds.

  Moaning with pleasure, she brought my hand to the juncture of her thighs, pressing the heel of my palm against her sex. “It’s especially filthy right here, too.”

  This time when she turned around, I didn’t try to stop her.

  Going down on my knees, I brought my mouth to her sex, lapping at the thin rivulets of water that sluiced down her slit.

  Tunneling her fingers in my hair, she held me to her, sighing deeply as my tongue cleaved the wet petals of her core. As I loved her with my mouth, my lips, my tongue, I reached down to stroke my cock, pumping my shaft in the tight hold of my pistoning fist.

  Burrowing deeper inside her sex, my tongue found a rhythm that seemed to please her, and I worked it mercilessly, stroking her toward release as I gripped my cock in my hand, working the thick, hard, slippery length.

  Her body began to quiver and with a sharp cry, she tensed, convulsed, and came on my tongue.

  Greedily, I gulped down her hot, creamy release, working my cock with increasing speed, the hot wet friction driving me to a faster tempo until I felt the tightening pressure building up at the base of my spine and my own orgasm roared up.

  The sudden blast of my release shot out, swirling and mixing with the shower water before disappearing down the drain at Sadie’s feet.

  Suddenly, her trembling legs slipped and I caught her, breaking her fall.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, wrapping my arms around her waist as we stood under the streaming hot water.

  “I’m more than okay.” A slight feline smile curved the corners of her generous mouth as her fingers curled around my shaft. “Now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

  I almost groaned when she got on her knees, droplets of water dripping from her tits, clinging to her lips as she kissed her way around my cock before catching the blunt tip in her mouth.

  Leaning against the tiled wall, my hips arched forward as she cupped my balls in her hands and took me fully into her mouth, stroking me greedily with her tongue, the roof of her mouth, her throat.

  Fuck. I winced at the acute pleasure as her mouth traveled up and down the length of my shaft, hot and wet, her lips cinching around the thick rod of hard flesh, milking every inch of me.

  Fisting my fingers in her hair, I set a steady pace, watching her mouth sucking me off as I fucked into it with slow, shallow thrusts.

  The tendons in my neck stood out like rope as I clenched my jaw, not wanting the acute pleasure to stop, but not wanting to explode inside her mouth.

  When I tried to tug at her shoulders to get her to stop, she gave a low, throaty moan of protest, and the noise vibrated in her mouth, straight to my cock.

  Fuck. She was destroying me. I couldn’t hold back the feral groan that scraped from my throat as she stared up at me with drowsy lust, cupping her glistening breasts and twisting her fingers around her distended nipples, pulling and stretching them as she sucked me deeper, harder, filling her mouth with my long, veined shaft.

  My jaw clamped down so tight my molars almost shattered and my cock leapt against her tongue. Hot, pulsing cum shot out and filled her mouth.

  She made a whimpering noise, somewhere between a sigh and a moan as she slowly drew back, letting my cock slip from her mouth, her lips dripping with my milky secretions.

  For a breath-catching moment, a long, thin thread of cum connected the tip of my shaft to her softly parted lips. With a ragged groan, I caught her under her arms, pulled her to her feet, and crushed her mouth in a deep, bruising kiss.

  She moaned into my mouth and raked her nails across my back, scoring my flesh as I consumed her with the kiss that was raw and full of hunger, while the drenching blast of the shower spray pounded against our skin and washed our bodies.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I was in the break room getting some coffee when I felt Julian come up behind me. “Hi.” The warmth of his breath tickled the sensitive skin on the back of my neck.

  “Hi.” I pivoted around to face him and we smiled silently at each other.

  “Would you like to discuss the Davis account today? Say noon?” His gaze was intense—intensely hot and intensely focused. “Yes or yes?”

  My lips curved slightly at this. “Well.” I tilted my head, considering for a moment. “Since I don’t really have a choice, I guess it’s a yes.”

  “Good,” he said in all seriousness. “We have a lot to discuss.”

  “We do?” I frowned at him, feigning confusion. “But we only just discussed the Davis account last night.”

  Julian leaned in, his soft lips just barely grazing my ear as he rasped, “It’s eight a.m. and I want you.”

  For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

  Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply as his voice pitched low and deep, as dark as sin and sex itself. “I can’t wait to finger you until you’re soaked, lick you until you cum, and fuck you until you scream.”

  The dark sensuality of his voice sent a thrill through my body, cinching my nipples and hardening my clit. My lips parted and I moistened them with my tongue as I felt heat gathering between my thighs and warmth spreading through my limbs.

  Now my choices seemed to be two: open my eyes, or liquefy.

  I opted for the former.

  That was when I saw Riley Jones striding toward the break room.

  Fuck. I turned from Julian, but not so quickly to confirm her suspicions that something was going on between us.

  Julian cleared his throat twice. “Morning, Riley.”

  “Morning,” she replied absently.

  As we breezed past one another, I smiled and she nodded a distracted greeting.

  Something was amiss. Riley wasn’t her bubbly, energetic self.

  She was distant and withdrawn, and it seemed as if all her vivacity had leaked out of her like a punctured tire.

  Once we were out in the hallway and I was positive we weren’t within earshot, I turned to Julian and said, “What’s going on with Riley?”

  “I don’t know.” He blinked a little under my gaze before frowning. “I have no idea.”

  Right before we rounded a corner, I quickly said, “Oh, in case I forget to ask you later, I need a favor.”

  “Anything.” His answer was swift and sure.

  “Evan has after school activities today. Can you pick him up after work?”

  “Of course,” he said easily.

  “Thanks.” I tried to keep my tone cool, blasé. Indifferent. “I… um…”
The words seemed to clot in my mouth and I had to clear my throat twice to get them out. “I have to meet his dad at six.”

  Julian broke his stride and looked at me long and hard. “So you’re really gonna do it? You’re gonna meet him?”

  I took a deep breath and forced myself into a state of calm. “I am.”

  Simon had me pick the time and the place. So I chose some place outdoors, some place quiet and nondescript. Some place that meant nothing to me for I didn’t want this meeting to mean more to the both of us than was superficially apparent.

  I knew this day would come, that our paths would inevitably converge.

  But as much as I’d prepared myself for this day—this moment—I wasn’t the least bit ready.

  The wind blew hard against me and I shivered, crossing my arms, making myself into a fortress against the wind.

  I was alone. No one came to this algae-filled duck pond.

  Not even the ducks.

  As I stood standing there waiting for Simon, the old familiar wave of loss and regret reared up and my breath hitched.

  Difficult did not even begin to describe the prospect of facing Simon.

  Though it was years ago, his cold rejection had cut deeply.

  I understood we were both young at the time, and maybe I’d asked him to give up too much. But fair or not, I felt like Simon had turned his back on me and Evan when we needed him most, and some part of me still resented him for that.

  There were no words he could say that would mean anything to me. No explanations, no apology, no—

  “Sadie!”

  I turned at his exclamation.

  “Sorry I’m late.” He released his breath in a rush. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

  I’ve been waiting for this day for six years.

  Briefly, I met his gaze and gave a curt nod, feeling only a detached coldness.

  Then I turned back to face the duck pond, and Simon came to stand beside me.

  Silence stretched between us until he broke it. “You come here often?”

  “No.”

  “Look.” He inhaled sharply. “I just need to get this out of the way.” Sighing, he pushed a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry for everything,” he said in a contrite tone, already apologizing for all the wrongs he had done.

  I pulled my gaze away from the pond and turned it upon him.

  This time, I took a long good look at him. He looked different. He was still handsome, but he was leaner, paler, and he looked weary, almost sad. And his eyes… they seemed to hold nothing but emptiness.

  I simply stared at him without speaking.

  What does he expect me to say? That I forgive him? Because I sure as hell don’t.

  All those years… not a single phone call, not even an email asking about Evan.

  Now he seemed nervous, like he was struggling to find the right words. “You have to understand, Sadie… I didn’t have a choice.”

  “There is always a choice, Simon.” Although I kept my voice pitched low, anger hummed through it. “I had a choice, too. I could have chosen to fall apart. I could have chosen to drown myself in booze and become a bitter alcoholic with a grudge against life. But I didn’t. I chose to go on living, to build a life for Evan and myself. You had a choice, too. And you chose to walk away.”

  His face was so full of poignant regret that it almost pierced my heart. “I know,” he said quietly. “I had to.”

  I fell silent and tried to pull air into my lungs. “Why?” I said at last. “Why did you have to?”

  “Because I was engaged.” His voice was thick with exhaustion. “And she was pregnant and carrying our son.”

  “So you knocked us both up.” My voice dripped with false empathy. “Wow.”

  “I know, I know.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I know I fucked up. I fucked things up with you but I didn’t want to fuck things up with her. I wanted to make things right. I wanted to marry her and do good by her, be a devoted husband, a good dad and all that and I couldn’t—”

  “You couldn’t have Evan in your life,” I finished.

  “It would have complicated things. I didn’t want to hurt Dani.”

  “And yet you cheated on her while she was pregnant.” My tone carried a trace of accusation, which I didn’t regret.

  “Believe me, I felt terrible. And I spent the next several years trying to make up for what I did. I was good to her, and I was faithful to her right to the very end.”

  I blinked at him. “Right to the very end of what?”

  “Our marriage.” He paused. “We’re not together anymore. She filed for divorce last month.” He gave me a pained smile. “After we lost our son, Kyle, our marriage fell apart.”

  “You lost your son?” The distress in my voice came straight from the heart.

  He looked away and when he spoke again, there was a haunted quality to his voice. “He died of leukemia last year.”

  Then I understood. I could see in his dark and depthless eyes, even though they were averted from me, that he was grieving.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said softly.

  His face was drawn tight and he was staring intently into the algae-filled pond, though I was sure he couldn’t see anything. “What happened to Kyle is not something I ever expect to get over. But I’m functioning. Most days I can pass for normal and even fake normal for some time.”

  I didn’t know what to say. My heart went out to him… losing a child was uniquely excruciating because it defied the natural order of life.

  And I understood that with a loss this painful, this grave, it was best to keep the focus on listening, rather than sharing.

  In the next breath, he started to tell me all about Kyle. And I listened. Actively listened.

  I learned that Kyle was an inquisitive child. He loved his bedtime stories, especially Greek mythologies. He was generous with his hugs, his smiles, and his ability to let go and forgive. And the sicker he became, the more affection he expressed to his parents and loved ones.

  In some ways, he reminded me a lot of Evan.

  And then came the inevitable segue… he wanted to know about my son. Our son.

  “Can you tell me more about him?” Simon said the words lightly, but something in his voice drew my gaze toward his. I saw hope in his eyes, and an easing of bleakness. “I’d really like to know.” He paused. “Please.”

  I struggled with my thoughts. I didn’t know where to even begin, where to start. So I started talking, surprised at how easily the words just tumbled out. “Evan’s a good kid. He loves mythologies, too. Greek, Roman, even Norse—he loves them all.”

  “And he turned six a few months ago?” he asked. I sensed the hesitation and consideration behind his words.

  “Yes.” I nodded. “Yes, he did.”

  “Evan…” His gaze turned inward and he became thoughtful. “I like that name.”

  “He likes to be called E or Mister E. Sometimes I call him Mister Man or Little Man, and sometimes I call him my little Cheese Monster. When he’s picky with his food, I call him Fuss Butt.”

  He listened with unwavering interest. “And what’s his middle name?”

  I worried my lower lip between my teeth. “Eros.”

  “Eros?” His surprise showed in his voice. “You named him after the divine spirit of Love, sprang forth from Chaos?”

  Only someone who’d majored in the Classics—a field in which every aspect of ancient Greek and Roman life was considered worthy of study—would understand the meaning behind Eros. And in that moment, a small part of me felt connected to Simon and our past. “I did.”

  In ancient Greek mythology, Eros was a lovely boy with rounded limbs and a merry, roguish expression. He had golden wings, and a quiver slung over his shoulder, which contained his magical and unerring arrows. In Rome, Eros was worshipped under the name Amor, also known as Cupid.

  “Eros,” Simon repeated. Then he looked at me, and I caught a faint gleam of gratitude in his eyes. “The win
ged God of Love.”

  “I haven’t told Evan the meaning behind his middle name, though.” I released a shaky breath. “He might never forgive me. Already he wishes he had a more manly-sounding name like Hercules or Thor. If he knew I named him after a cupid, he’d probably lose it.”

  A corner of his mouth lifted in amusement, a first glimpse of a smile from him. “I promise I won’t tell him.”

  So there it is. Out in the open now. He’s hoping to meet Evan.

  After a charged pause, he said, “Has Evan ever wondered about me? Or asked about me?”

  I nodded.

  “Recently?”

  “Not too long ago…” I hesitated before adding. “After his last checkup appointment.”

  “Checkup?” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “What kind of checkup?”

  I hadn’t planned on telling him, but after hearing of his painful loss, something in my heart softened and the words came out on their own, cascading over one another like water over rocks. I told him about Evan’s current condition, his future prognosis, and his recent complications.

  When I finished, my confession seemed to have robbed him of his speech.

  He fell silent, as if he were turning thoughts around in his head, trying to make sense of my words.

  “Evan’s doing good now.” I spoke into the silence. “He’s never been better.”

  He thought briefly, then nodded.

  After a time, he drew a deep breath as if bracing himself for the worst. “You said Evan had asked about me.” A pause. “What did he want to know?”

  “He wanted to know why his dad wasn’t around,” I answered truthfully. “He wanted to know why his dad left him.”

  Simon swallowed hard. “And what did you tell him?”

  “I told him that if and when that day would come… when he had a chance to see you, he could ask you those questions himself.”

  He let out a long breath. “Thank you.” He held my gaze steadily. “Thank you for doing that.”

  Uncomfortable with the gratitude I saw in his eyes, I forced my gaze back to the duck pond. “I should probably get going now.”