by Ana Medeiros
“I love looking down at a woman’s body and seeing the anticipation on her.” As he spoke, the smoky quality of his voice became more apparent. “I love covering her with oil, massaging it into her with my hands, feeling the heat of my palms warming her up. Admiring her glowing skin come to life.” Julian didn’t take his eyes away from Alana. “Dripping more oil directly into her, using my fingers to caress her closed entrance, moving in gentle circles to coat her well. Slowly pressing forward, watching her open up to take one of my fingers.”
Immersed in his description, Julian spoke from a place he usually didn’t share with others. “I love watching my finger move in and out of her, feeling her soften under me. She knows that’s me tricking her body to trust me, to let go, and right there and then there’s a bittersweet note in the pleasure she’s feeling. She knows this is where I need her to be so I can take my pleasure. It’s both incredibly selfish and giving. She knows it. I know it. The perfect understanding of human nature.”
He imagined he was doing to Alana what he was describing and a surge of heat started at the pit of his stomach and spread through his torso. “When I pull my finger out and I bring myself to her opening. When I press forward, forcefully, but with no rush. Enough to get inside of her but stopping close to bringing her harm. When she takes me and she starts to feel the burn…that burn, that deep bite that knocks the air out of her lungs and makes her body desperately fight me is beautiful. And it is beautiful because she’s allowing me to do that to her. She’s choosing to be vulnerable with me and that’s pure intimacy.”
Alana remained perfectly still, giving him her full attention.
“When I hold her hips more tightly, encouraging her to give in, to surrender to the pain, there’s nothing beyond her,” Julian continued. “As she embraces it and I feel myself move deeper into her and the tightness is so wonderful it almost makes me lose control, all I can think about and feel is her. When I’m all the way in I don’t move. I savor it. I cherish it. I know she has surrendered to me and I can choose to make that fucking mine, hers, or ours.”
Julian saw Alana lick her bottom lip and, at that point, he was so aroused that the touch of his clothes against his own skin was painful. “The feeling of being in control is unique. Intoxicating. That’s why I love anal sex, Alana. The act, like only a few other things in life, feeds a need in me.”
He waited for her reaction, knowing she was trying to understand what type of person, what type of man he was. Julian stood up and went to her. For the first time since he left Hazel’s house, he realized he no longer felt tense, afraid of his own emotions. In a tender gesture, he lowered his head and kissed her. There was desire in their kiss but more than anything else there was a newfound intimacy.
“Going to take a quick shower. I’ll be back soon,” he said, with a last caressing touch to her cheek.
When Julian got into the shower and felt the hot stream of water hit his body, he wondered what to do. Everything he had seen and heard from Alana since their encounter at the coffee shop confused him. She appeared to be sexually experienced and at the same time disarmingly innocent. He didn’t believe it to be an act, but that innocence hadn’t been there when he had seen her at the club. That had been a raw, commanding, sexual Alana. He felt it in his core. This new side of her brought a nuance of gentleness to that attraction, which caught him off-guard. He had never met anyone like her before.
When Julian returned to the bedroom, wearing only a towel around his waist, he found Alana curled up in the middle of his bed. He stood for a while, watching her sleep. The plush comforter had molded itself to her sleeping body, like a large cocoon, trying to protect her from the outside world. Maybe it was trying to protect her from him, he thought. In only a pair of black leggings and a t-shirt, her colorful socks stood out. Usually in his bed, women were naked. But not Alana. She had rainbows on her socks. That made Julian smile.
Moving carefully, so as not to wake her up, he grabbed a blanket from the closet. Removing the towel from around his waist, Julian lay on his side, beside her. Adjusting the blanket over them, he wrapped an arm around Alana. Feeling the cadence of her breathing against his body, he inhaled deeply. Her proximity was making it impossible for him to ignore his state of arousal. One of the first things he noticed in a woman was her scent, the inimitable element that characterized her to him. Alana didn’t wear perfume. Julian detected the fresh notes of the laundry detergent she used on her clothes and traces of her plain shampoo. His instinct was telling him to wake her up, pull down her leggings, and moving her underwear to the side, bury himself in her. No words. No eye contact. Just her warmth, her scent, her breathing, her heartbeat. But Alana was sleeping so soundly that Julian couldn’t get himself to disturb her. His body relaxed against hers and he remembered the last time he slept beside a female, when the act was about truly caring for someone.
• • •
Julian sat up in the bed, his heart racing. It was dark. For a brief moment he didn’t know where he was and it took him a while to recognize his own bedroom.
He had dreamt about them.
“Who’s Tatia?”
He heard the voice and Julian turned, startled. Narrowing his eyes, he saw the shadow by the window. It was Alana. She was sitting on the floor, facing away from him.
He got out of bed and, on unsteady legs, made his way across the room. Naked, he sunk to his knees beside her. At some point throughout the night she had undressed and now, only wrapped in the blanket he had used earlier to cover them, she was gazing at the city’s night sky. He rested his forehead on the ceiling-to-floor glass and took several steadying deep breaths.
“It’s beautiful,” Alana whispered, still not looking at him. “Do you ever sit here and wonder what’s going on down there?”
Julian followed her gaze. After a few minutes of staring at the tall buildings, the lights coming from them blurred into a swatch of varied shades. Even by the window it was too dim in the bedroom for Alana to see his tears and Julian was thankful for that.
“You were apologizing to someone in your sleep. Tatia. You kept saying her name over and over again.”
Without the ill-fitting, mismatched clothing he had seen her wear, which worked almost as a distraction from the woman in them, Julian could now focus on her. Alana was a classic beauty. And that sad demeanor of hers, which was so hard for him to witness, made her beauty look almost tragic. In that moment he knew Alana felt as lonely as he did.
“Sometimes I can’t sleep either. I have all of these nightmares. I guess it doesn’t get better, huh?” she asked.
“It never does.”
Her eyes were on his arm. “That’s an unusual tattoo. Why a raven?”
He ran his fingertips along the wings of the raven. “It’s a long story…maybe one day I can tell you.” He looked up. “Who are you, Alana?”
She didn’t cower from his intense gaze. “Who is she, Julian?”
The blanket had slipped off her shoulder, exposing her breast, and he moved her hair away from her neck. Slowly, with his eyes following his hand, he caressed her nipple. His touch was light, almost revering. Alana covered his hand with hers and pressed his palm to her breast. Enjoying the softness of it, Julian lowered his head and took her nipple between his lips.
Alana had her hands on his hair and she arched her back against him. Without warning, Julian trapped her nipple between his teeth. He bit hard. She gave a small cry, holding on to him. He moved away from her breast and licked her stomach, continuing past her navel. He took pleasure in unhurriedly indulging in every inch of her that his lips could find. The taste of her arousal on his tongue made him moan. So enthralled by it, he didn’t know how long Alana lay open to him. With his eyes closed, Julian savored her blindly. That only made him more aware of her scent, of her taste.
The sounds of gratification escaping her lips, the way Alana gripped the hair on the back of his head, the undulation of her hips told him she was close. He slid his finger inside
of her and her body readily welcomed it. He wanted Alana to experience as much pleasure as her mind and body would allow her to. He wanted her to lose herself. As her thighs trembled around him, Julian felt her tense up. Alana’s body lifted off the floor with the intensity of her release and he rested his hand over her stomach, holding her tightly.
The dim light coming through the window allowed him to see the desire she still harbored in her eyes. “Say it.” His tone was firm. “Never hold back with me.”
Before she responded, he watched her chest rise and fall, like she was trying to find the courage to speak. “I want you to do to me exactly what you described earlier. I want you to fuck me like that.”
With her slightly parted lips and fast breathing, there was a hint of bashfulness in her voice. He got up and a few minutes later, as he was returning to her, he took in the image of Alana on the floor—naked, sex-tousled hair spread around her, arms resting above her head. Julian didn’t want to ever forget such an image.
“Get on your hands and knees,” he ordered, standing by her. “Face the window.”
He knelt behind her and, moving her hair to the side, he closed his hand on the back of her neck. Up until then, his movements had been sensual and languorous but now Julian wanted to feel Alana submit to him. He squeezed her neck, loving how fragile it was under his fingers. Opening his hand, he massaged it for a while. Her neck was quickly becoming one of his weaknesses.
Alana hadn’t said anything but her body was showing him that she was apprehensive. Julian grabbed the bottle he had gone to find and slowly dripped the oil on her. She jerked, startled by the liquid touching her warm skin. He watched as it trickled down her thighs and the back of her legs. Pressing his fingers hard into her flesh, Julian smeared it all over her body. He spread her open to him and, inserting the neck of the bottle into her opening, poured a large amount inside of her. Alana rested her forehead on the floor and she remained very still, aware of all of his movements.
“You’re beautiful,” Julian said, bringing his lips closer to her ear. “And the sight of you on your hands and knees, ready for me, is beautiful.”
Gradually, without much resistance, Julian’s oiled finger entered her. He moved it around, enjoying how well coated she was. Some of the oil was flowing out of her and Alana was responding to the pleasurable sensation of it. With his finger buried in her, Julian placed his other hand between her outstretched legs. He knew the heightened sexual tension created by the looming act he was preparing her for, joined with the feeling of both of his hands on her, would make Alana come undone. It happened fast and her body bowed with the intensity of it.
Watching her become lost in a wave of pleasure, Julian grabbed the condom he had brought back with the oil and rolled it on. He gripped her hips and brought himself to the small entrance. Julian steadily pressed forward. He didn’t stop until he was deep inside of her.
With her palm pressed against the glass, Alana was now closer to the window and she was panting. He leaned forward, covering her body with his, and he wrapped one of his arms around her. She was too tight. She was lost in the burn.
“Breathe with me, Alana,” he whispered, remaining very still inside of her. “Breathe.”
He inhaled through his nose and exhaled slowly, through his mouth. “With me,” he repeated, feeling her try to match her breathing to his. “That’s it, Alana. With me.”
“I don’t think I can do this.”
For a moment Julian wasn’t sure if she was referring to what was happening between them or something else entirely.
“Can you feel me in you? How hard I am?”
She nodded.
“Let go, Alana.” He wrapped both of his arms around her. “Into my arms, into me.” She continued to steady her breathing and her body gradually softened in his arms. “You’re opening up.” He gasped, closing his eyes. “Feels so fucking good.”
He straightened his back and placed both of his hands on her hips. He looked down and watched as he slid out of her. He pushed forward again and the feeling of her taking all of him made Julian’s whole body shudder.
The rhythm of his thrusts became more demanding, rougher, and her moans louder. Holding on to her he could see by the angle of her back, the way her head dropped between her shoulders, that she was nearing her threshold.
“Stay with me, Alana.” He leaned forward again, wrapping her with his body. Julian placed his hand under her chin and lifted her head up. She made a pleading sound. With their bodies covered in a mix of oil and perspiration, Julian felt his overextended muscles ache with the need for release. He couldn’t hold back any longer.
Straddling her lower body, he planted his feet on the floor, on each side of her knees, and with a couple of powerful thrusts, held her as she swung forward with the force of it. The intensity of Julian’s orgasm made him bear down into her, like he was trying to absorb all of Alana into himself, and his groans of pleasure came deep from within his chest.
Pulling out of her, Julian discarded the condom. He felt shaken. They lay side by side, on top of the blanket she had been using earlier, and he brought his face to the curve of Alana’s neck. His hand was resting on her chest, between her breasts, and she laced her fingers through his. Remembering the terrified expression on her face when he had mentioned Steven Thompson, Julian gathered her closer to him.
Chapter 11
Meredith decided not to attend her last lecture of the day. Walking along South Ellis Avenue, she searched for a cigarette and a lighter inside of her oversized purse. It had been a dreary winter afternoon, without a hint of sunshine, and the cold had showed itself to be tenacious, not wanting to release its grip on the city.
As she held the cigarette between her lips, Meredith scrolled through her text messages. There were a few from friends suggesting drinks at Rainbo Club, her regular hangout, one from her father telling her he wanted her to join him on his upcoming trip to Aspen, and a short text message from a guy she had slept with at a house party the week before, wondering when he would be seeing her again. She chuckled, shaking her head. They both had been drunk and high on weed, which was probably why she didn’t remember much about that evening. Yet, despite the gaps in her memory, Meredith was confident the sex had been bad enough that she didn’t want to give it a second go. She kept promising to herself she would stop indulging in casual sex with men that saw her pleasure as the last item on a long grocery list. She blamed Julian for her dissatisfaction. He had shown her a different world, a hidden world where her body and mind were embraced by his genuine desire to celebrate her sexuality. Being Julian’s lover gave her a glimpse of the woman she could become—confident, fulfilled, strong. Now that she had felt it, the possibility of not reaching that potential made her critical of any sexual experience that was less than what it could or should be. She was still angry with Julian for what happened at The Raven Room but keeping him at bay wouldn’t give her what she wanted. Besides being her sexual game-changer he was the only one who could grant her access to the club.
She dialed Pam’s number and left her a voicemail telling her she had decided to go over for dinner. She wondered what her father would do if he found out his only daughter had gone to an underground sex club with an older man. Meredith always expected to have fun during her university years. The perfect opportunity to drink, experiment with drugs, have plenty of no-strings-attached sex, fall in love, have her heart broken a few times, and break many more hearts in return. That’s what her friends were doing and even though she definitely had her share of it, and enjoyed it, Meredith had outgrown it. Her last ex-boyfriend, a real trustafarian, was still in the picture. He would pop up now and then, visits that led to hours of happy-go-lucky sex. But Meredith knew he wasn’t the type of man who could subdue, or even start to comprehend, the ever-present restlessness she felt within her.
Meredith parked in the driveway of her family home. She hadn’t been over in several months but no matter how long she stayed away, every time she
saw the gardens, now covered by thick layers of snow, she thought of her mother. She had been a talented gardener, spending hours tending to the flowers and trees she loved so much. Meredith missed her. When she was nine years old her mother had died after a long, painful battle with breast cancer and despite the brave face she had put on, losing her when she was entering the age she needed her most, left Meredith struggling to make sense of the world around her. If her mother was still alive she was sure they would be close. Her father would always say she reminded him of her mother and called Meredith a heap of beautiful foolishness.
One of the last memories she had of her mother was when she had showed her the Chagall Windows at the Art Institute of Chicago. At the time the blue cast of the stained glass had made her think she was a mermaid swimming in the ocean. Now, as an adult, when she was having a particularly difficult day, she would buy a ticket to the Art Institute so she could stare at the stained glass for hours. It was her refuge.
She caught herself sitting inside of her dark, cold car. Groaning with frustration, Meredith quickly dried her wet cheeks with the backs of her hands. She wouldn’t get anything out of crying for a mother who had been dead for fourteen years.
As she ran toward the front door, she felt the salt sprinkled on the icy ground dig into the soles of her boots. The only person she had told where she went when she needed to get away had been Julian. He had joked, saying only a wealthy girl like her would think to pay over twenty dollars to stare at stained glass as a way to unwind. At the time that made Meredith think that he must resent people like her, born into comfort. Julian still perceived himself as being one of the have-nots and Meredith wondered if he would ever feel differently.