by Maria Monroe
He pulls away, smirking at me playfully, aware, I'm sure, of how turned I am and how abruptly he stopped. Tease. "Please, come in, Lia." He gestures into his condo, and I enter.
We're in his huge loft, and the first thing I see is the gigantic floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lakefront. Lights from traffic on Lake Shore Drive twinkle, and the water, shiny and icy, glints, reflecting the lamps and the glow from the city.
"The view," I stammer. "It's gorgeous."
"That's why I chose this place."
"I think I could just stand here and look at this all night and day," I whisper.
I sense him behind me, gently pulling my coat from my shoulders. A low groan escapes from his throat when my shoulders are bared, and his fingers gently play on the skin of my upper back. In a heartbeat he spins me around so we're face-to-face.
"I like to look at beautiful things," he murmurs, his lips grazing over mine.
Oh. My body feels so hot, like I’m going to burst into flames any second. Like I'd do anything for him. He's barely touched me, and already my pussy tingles in anticipation, my nipples are hard as pebbles, filled with the overwhelming desire for his fingers, his mouth, to make contact.
I pull back slightly and look up into his face, hardened with desire. "Aren't you going to give me a tour?" I ask. "I'd love to see your place."
"Tonight, there's only one stop on this tour." His words are a growl, then his fingers run down my neck, lower until he slides a hand into the V of my cleavage. He cups my right breast, finding the nipple and rubbing it roughly. My mouth falls open as I sigh. Then, suddenly, he lifts me up, almost over his shoulder.
I squeal. "Julian!"
He carries me straight to the bedroom, where he deposits me on top of his huge bed. The covers are gray, the only light from the lamp on the night stand. It bathes me in a warm glow as I lie on the bed; it's like a spotlight, and I'm the star of the show.
Julian stands next to the bed, staring down at me. His jaw is tense, his eyes filled with fire as he gazes up and down my still-clothed body.
"You look different," he finally says.
"You don't like it?" For a second, despite the hunger in his eyes, I'm worried that I do, in fact, look too slutty.
But he utters a low groan. "It's not about whether I like it or not. It's about how long I plan to leave it on you. And the way you look right now? It's not going to be long."
I breathe out rapidly, his words ratcheting up the desire even more. "My friend took me shopping," I say. "Michelle. You know, your employee."
"She deserves a fucking raise." He takes a step closer to the bed, to me. "But I don't want to talk about her. I don't want to talk about anyone else."
"No?" I whisper.
"No. What I want to talk about," he says, stepping even closer, "is how hard," he adds, straddling me quickly and caging me with his steel-strong arms, "I'm going to fuck you tonight."
I gasp as he crushes my mouth with his, as our tongues meet, the desire growing, building, so quickly I can barely breathe.
He finds the zipper on the side of my tight corset-top, and he pulls it down harshly. Freed, my boobs bounce, my nipples already rock hard as I arch my back up so Julian can get a better view. I have a feeling he'll appreciate it. I know I'm right when he sucks one of them, hard, biting down gently. I writhe in desire under him, and he bites harder, bites until it hurts.
I moan in both pain and desire, because even though his teeth hurt my sensitive flesh, it makes the pleasure even stronger, the combination of the two heady and intoxicating.
Julian backs away, staring down at me as he silently slips his shirt off. He's all lean muscle on top of me, his abs so defined, his arms so strong. "I missed you, Lia," he says suddenly, reaching down to his zipper to undo his jeans.
"I missed this too," I whisper, reaching down to find the zipper of my skirt, wanting to get rid of my clothes as quickly as possible.
"Not this," he says, his voice almost savage. "This too," he concedes. "But you, Lia. All of you. How gorgeous you are. And smart. And funny. You. Just you."
I'm torn between desire and wanting to cry, although I'm not sure why. Maybe because this here is everything I've wanted since the day I broke up with him. Being here now, like this, is a dream come true. I almost feel like it's not real, and I'm afraid of it disappearing, dissipating like fog or smoke or the remnants of a dream I can no longer remember.
"Stand up, Lia," he says suddenly.
I do. I would do anything he asked, and that thought is both thrilling and terrifying.
"Your skirt," he says, gesturing at my skirt, only partially unzipped.
I reach behind me and fumble around until I find the zipper again. The quiet zzz of the zipper elicits a groan from Julian, and his eyes are darker than before. I let the skirt fall down around my leather boots. I'm clad now in only my boots and a pair of lacy and tiny black underwear.
Julian stares at me, his eyes moving up and down my body. He has his jeans on still, the fly unzipped, and I can see his huge cock bulging through his clothes. Suddenly he grasps the front of my panties, pulling me to him. Hard. I gasp as our bodies collide, but he stifles my breathing with his lips, kissing me hard, fucking my mouth with his.
He's on his knees in a heartbeat, right in front of me, kissing my knees where they rise out of my tall boots. He kisses his way up farther, traveling higher and higher on my right thigh. He can smell me now, I'm sure, can inhale the scent of my desire. Slipping a hand between my thighs he pushes them apart.
"Open," he mutters, demanding that I spread my legs even farther.
I do, so I'm standing there in front of his kneeling frame, my legs spread wide. Through the soaking wet fabric of my panties he fingers me, leaving me so weak I can barely stand. When he uses his tongue to lick the already-damp fabric I moan, throwing my head back at the sensation of his tongue and lips teasing me. Still on his knees, he grips the fabric of my panties and pulls them down my thighs.
"Lift," he demands, tapping my right boot. When I do, he slips the panties off that foot, then does the same for the left until I'm naked except for my boots.
"Turn around." His voice is low but commanding, and I obey, my heart pounding, my pussy pulsing. "Bend over the bed."
Oh my god. I glance over my shoulder at him. What is he going to do? I flash back to the conversation we had in his office, when he said that if he told me to bend over his desk for a spanking he knew I'd do it. I'd known it too. But now? Here? My stomach churns with nerves, but I'd be lying if I said there wasn't desire and curiosity deep down too.
"Are you going to…" I ask, my voice trailing off, unable to even say the word out loud.
"Am I going to what, Lia?" His voice is low but teasing. He's going to make me say it, just like he always did in college.
"Spank me?" I mutter, my cheeks growing bright red.
"Do you want me to?"
"I don't know." Except every part of me tingles when I think about it. And I've thought about it lots since we visited the sex shop in college.
"I am going to Lia," he says. "But not right now. Right now? I'm going to fuck you just like this, bent over the bed, with your legs spread and your pussy so wet and ready for me."
I gulp, my breath coming quickly at his dirty sexy words, spoken low and so matter-of-factly it makes my head spin.
I look back at him once more to see him pushing his jeans down, then stripping off his underwear. His cock is huge and hard. I know how it would feel if I touched it, smooth skin over rock hardness. He grins when he sees me looking at it, at him. He takes a step closer to me, and I feel his hand on my lower back, holding me in place. God.
"Spread your legs wider, Lia," he whispers.
I do, the cool air in the room caressing my pussy lips. With my high heels and the top half of my body on the bed, I'm completely exposed and open. I'm sure he can see how wet I am; my pussy must be glistening, even in the dim light from the lamp by the bed.
; He touches me lightly between my legs. I sigh, weak with desire, my head falling down onto the bed. His fingers move deftly but like a whisper, flitting over my folds, teasing my clit, until I'm a writhing mess. I want him so badly it hurts.
"Julian," I moan finally.
"What do you want, Lia?" He always asks. He always makes me say it. And it always turns me on so much that he does.
"I want you, Julian."
"What exactly do you want?" I can hear the teasing in his voice again.
"I want you," I repeat breathlessly.
He plunges one finger deeply inside me.
"Ohhh," I cry out.
"Tell me what you want me to do, Lia." Now his voice is commanding again, the teasing gone.
I take a deep breath. "I want you to fuck me, Julian," I murmur.
As though he's been waiting just for me to say that he's inside me in an instant, filling my wet pussy, stretching it with his huge cock. I feel his hands on my hips, one on each side, pulling me back to meet him as he rocks forward, slamming inside me over and over. It's hard and fast, and I push back against him, trying to keep up with his need.
Without missing a beat he reaches one hand around to play with my clit, keeping up the intense pace while torturing my sensitive bud, teasing it, moving it in tight circles until my pussy squeezes around him hard as my orgasm grows.
"Fuck," mutters Julian, "you feel so fucking amazing, Lia."
But his voice seems so far away, like it's coming to me through layers of gauze, because my body is growing tighter and tighter as the orgasm builds, higher and higher until, suddenly, it crashes down on me. I cry out as my body shudders, my pussy clenching hard around Julian's cock, over and over again as waves of ecstasy pass through me.
"I fucking love when you come and I'm inside you," Julian growls, fucking me even harder than he was before. With each thrust he pulls my hips back toward him and holds me there, impaled, for a long moment. I can feel his cock throbbing inside me, can feel him coming too. He pulls out, then thrusts in again, holding me in place once more as he curses, moans, then collapses onto my back.
I'm catching my breath, half on the bed and half off, connected, still, to Julian. Our breathing slows, in sync, and he strokes the soft inside of my arm just below the elbow.
"Lia," he whispers, kissing my temple. It sounds like a poem. Or a prayer.
He pulls out of me slowly, then lifts me up gently and places me on the bed, my head on the pillow. After handing me a towel to clean up, he lies down too, holding me from behind. He feels so warm and big and safe. So Julian. I snuggle into his arms and close my eyes.
"You want something to drink? Or eat?" Julian asks. I don't know how much time has passed. I don't know anything right now except I haven't felt this comfortable in a long time. Maybe since college, in Julian's bed.
"We should order a pizza," I say.
Julian laughs into my hair. "Lia, I have enough food from this fancy grocery down the street store to feed our entire office, even after the merger."
"You do? Why?"
"Because you were coming over."
Oh my god. He planned this ahead of time? He went out to a gourmet grocery store and bought food? I feel flustered and flattered, and more than a little bit in love. "I should probably be insulted that you think I eat that much," I giggle. "But you just fucked me so good I can't possibly be angry at you right now."
"Jesus, Lia, you never used to have such a dirty mouth on you."
"You're a bad influence. And a great teacher." I wiggle my hips so my butt wriggles against him.
He groans and shifts, and I feel him hardening against me. Already. "Like I said," he murmurs, "there's so much more I want to teach you. But. I better feed you before the next round. You're going to need your energy."
"I'm feeling very energetic tonight," I respond, but I grin up at him as he takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen. Naked.
"Sit." Julian gestures to a stool at the marble island, and I sit down, watching as he opens the fridge and starts taking things out and placing them on the surface before me.
Pub cheese and rosemary crackers for dipping. Two different types of olives. Fresh crusty bread and Irish butter. Chocolate covered strawberries. I pick up a plastic container and examine it. "Artisan beef jerky?" I ask. "What's artisan about it?"
He laughs. "I have no idea. They probably just dumped some bagged jerky from the gas station into that container and slapped on the artisan label. Here." He hands me a glass of white wine.
It's delicious and crisp, and I smile. "Seriously, Julian, why did you buy so freaking much?"
Holy crap. I think Julian's blushing! Julian, who is never, ever embarrassed by anything ever. He shrugs and looks so much like a teenager on a first date that I have to fight down the urge to laugh. "I wanted to impress you," he says simply.
My mouth falls open. I know I'm gaping, but I can't help it. "You? Wanted to impress someone?"
He frowns. "Yes. Is that really such a strange notion?"
"Uh, yeah! You're such a… you're so… Julian," I finally say, like his name explains everything.
"You can't define something using the word you're trying to define."
I roll my eyes. "You know what I mean." I open the tray of chocolate covered strawberries and bite the top off one, the chocolate breaking around my lips. "Mmm," I murmur. I'm in a state of bliss. Amazing sex. Delicious wine. Chocolate. It's sheer perfection. Julian is sheer perfection.
But he's not happy with my answer. "I don't know what you mean," he says.
"You're just.. OK," I respond. "In college? You literally—and I'm using literally literally—had girls throwing themselves at you."
He laughs now, the sound so rich and warm. "You think they actually threw themselves at me?"
I nod, biting into another strawberry.
He shrugs, then smirks. "Fine. Maybe once or twice." His wink? Makes me giddy inside.
"See? You admit it. They did, Julian. You always get what you want. Without trying. It's like everything comes so easy to you."
He looks like he's going to speak, then hesitates. I get the feeling he wants to say something but changed his mind. Before I know it he grabs me, kissing the chocolate off my lips.
"Mmm," I murmur, melting into him.
His phone buzzing interrupts us, and he grabs it to turn it off, but when he sees the number he answers it, his voice curt. "Mark. I hope it's important."
He listens for a second, then says, "Let's talk over the phone. I'm occupied."
A silence.
"Fuck you, man." But it's a good natured, though annoyed, response.
Another silence.
"Fine. You have ten minutes." He mouths sorry to me.
Shivering slightly, I go into the bedroom and pick up his button-down shirt from the floor, hurrying into it and pulling it closed in front. When I wander back into the kitchen, which opens up to the huge living room and picture windows, he's still talking. I settle onto the couch to wait for him to finish.
Finally he hangs up, then comes over and sinks down onto the couch next to me. His face is creased with worry.
"Is everything all right?" I ask quietly.
Gently, he pulls me toward him and kisses my hair. "It is now."
"Julian!" I roll my eyes at his cheesy line. "Seriously. I mean the phone call. What's up?"
"At risk of ruining the mood, we need to talk about work."
"Mood ruined."
"What if I tell you I switched to an office with real walls? Soundproof?"
I giggle, but only for a second. This is serious, and I need to know what's happening. "Just tell me what's going on, Julian!"
"Come here." He grabs my bare legs and pulls them up onto his lap, running his fingers up to my knee, then back down to my ankles, where he idly swirls them around my ankle bone. "That was my contact Mark at the police department," he finally says. "Things are fucked up, Lia. He thinks Randolph Meyer was involved in the deaths of the tw
o people from Hope International."
“I knew it! That's exactly what I thought."
"You've got good instincts, Lia. But you need to stay far away from this story. I'll give you something else to work on tomorrow. This story is done for now."
"OK."
"I mean it, Lia. You wouldn't have graduated half a year early if you didn't have that drive. I know how that is. But this is dangerous. Promise me you'll stay away from anything Randolph Meyer related."
"I promise. Anyway, as you are well aware, he's been ignoring both of us for days now. He clearly doesn't want to talk to me. So you've got nothing to worry about."
"I don't trust that asshole," he says.
I want our good mood back, so I take his hand and bring it to my mouth. I bend down the fingers of his hand so only his index finger is extended, then bring it to my lips. With just the tip of my tongue I lick it, slowly, keeping my eyes trained on his the whole time. His upper lip twitches; his jaw tightens. When I gently suck his finger into my mouth he curses, and I know exactly what he's thinking about.
Swinging my legs off him I slid off the couch and kneel between his legs. "I know what you want, Julian," I whisper.
"What's that, Lia?" He puts his hands behind his head and grins at me, but I can tell underneath his casual demeanor he's filled with desire hotter than lava.
"You want my mouth wrapped around your cock," I say simply.
"God, Lia," he hisses. "I love when you talk dirty to me."
"Like I said. You taught me that."
He growls, and I bend down, the tip of my tongue circling the swollen head of his penis. I move my mouth lower and lick up from the base of his cock, looking directly into his eyes and holding his gaze as I lick my lips to get them wet, then suck his entire length into my mouth. It's so deep I almost gag, but I focus on relaxing and keep him deep for a few seconds, moving my tongue gently over his skin while I keep him lodged far back in my throat. Then I run my lips back up to the tip, letting his dick out of my mouth with a pop. Next I lick his balls, lapping at them with my tongue, relishing the groans that escape from his mouth, his head thrown back against the couch. This feeling—of him being completely focused on me, of me being able to make him feel so good—is addictive.