by Sarah Bailey
The corner of Julian’s mouth quirked up, and his eyes glimmered with amusement. “Actually, Ms. Stevens, I’m quite a good cook.”
“You cook?” I asked, sounding astonished.
“Why does that surprise you?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t think you’d have the time. And you seem to eat out a lot.”
“I make time for the things I enjoy,” he said matter-of-factly. “I have an old friend who went to chef’s school in Paris. He taught me how to make a mean soufflé, and an exquisite omelette. Among other things.” His eyes crinkled slightly at the corners as he studied me. “Another benefit to you sticking around ‘til the morning, Ms. Stevens. Now let’s eat,” he said, grabbing two plates from a set of 19th century French cabinets, and laying them out on the table.
As we settled down to eat, I noticed another Charline von Heyl on the wall, the same artist he had up in his office. “Pink Vendetta,” I said, pointing to the painting.
He looked up at me mid-bite, his fork suspended in the air. “Quite right,” he said, sounding slightly taken aback.
“You must really enjoy von Heyl’s work. I noticed you also had ‘Lacuno Lotto’ up in your office.”
Julian’s eyes glinted with a strange light. “Yes, you mentioned that earlier. I like how her work is so dynamic and darkly, almost ferociously sensual, even while, or I should say, especially while, she uses bright, happy colors and festive themes.”
“Ferociously sensual,” I repeated, giving him a long, evaluative look. “I’m starting to detect a psychological pattern, Mr. McGregor. Or should I say, I preoccupation.”
Julian got a sly glimmer in eye, and did his best imitation of a deeply worried look. “Oh dear, Dr. Stevens. This preoccupation of mine. How do you intend to treat it?”
“Well of course, you’ll need to undergo hours and hours of therapy. Your condition is quite serious.”
Julian’s expression became wicked. “Yes, you’re quite right, Dr. Stevens. I’ll be needing hours and hours of sex therapy from you to rid me of this . . . preoccupation. I suggest our sessions be lengthy and intensive, and that we explore all of my sexual fantasies and preoccupations fully.”
I felt my cheeks flush slightly, and took another bite of my Coq au vin. “Well played, Mr. McGregor. Well played.”
“The funny thing is, you remind me of ‘Lacuna Lotto.’”
I looked at him, confused, waiting for him to explain himself.
“The woman’s lips in the painting. Her dark, enigmatic smile. The first time you smirked at me, the first time I saw your lower lip quiver, it somehow reminded me of ‘Lacuna Lotto.’”
I chuckled slightly. “You think I’m dark and enigmatic?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, “but also light and festive at the same time.” Then his eyes darkened with desire and he said, “In other words, you’re my fantasy girl. You push all of my buttons. You’re the whole package.”
Feeling self-conscious, I pushed around the food on my plate, separating the chicken from the onions and the carrots. When I looked up, Julian was still staring at me. He cocked his head to the side and said, “It’s funny how you divide up your food.”
I shrugged my shoulders and dug my fork into a carrot. “I’ve done it since I was a kid.”
“I noticed you doing it at lunch the other day as well. Dividing up all the parts of your cobb salad.”
I gave him a funny look, wondering where he was going with all of this. “I also noticed everything is perfectly in its place on your desk at work.”
I scowled at him slightly. “When were you at my desk? I’ve never invited you over.”
“I walk by there all the time, Sarah. I wasn’t snooping. Well, maybe I had to peek my head in a bit,” he added, sounding amused with himself.
“So what’s your point?” I asked, my words coming out sounding sharper than I intended.
“You like to compartmentalize things, don’t you? Carrots and chicken, separate. Paper clips and pens, separate. Work and play, separate. Sex and love, separate.”
“What’s wrong with having work and play separate? Mixing the two gets messy.”
“Yes,” he said, “but I’ve already agreed to do my best to stay out of your hair at work. That’s not the part I’m worried about.”
“Then what are you worried about?” I asked, though I already knew what he was going to say.
“Sex and love, Sarah.”
“I loved Rob,” I said. “And I had sex with him.”
“Yes, but I bet he didn’t blow you away in bed. If you’d had love and passion with him, you would have been running for the hills.”
I felt myself tense up. Though Julian was hitting a nerve, I put on my best skeptical face and stared him down. “What are you trying to say, Julian?”
He leaned forward and grabbed my hand. “I’m saying you’re so scared of being utterly, completely consumed by someone, and the way you defend yourself against that is by always keeping a part of yourself out of reach. With Rob, you gave him your commitment and devotion, but you didn’t let him sweep you off your feet.”
I continued to stare him down, but I could feel myself starting to tremble with fear.
“I watched the video of your so-called freak out closely, Sarah. You thought Rob was mocking you by laughing when you lost it. I don’t think that’s what it was about. I think he was so happy that you finally totally and truly lost it over him. He finally saw your passion.”
I sat back in my chair, totally floored by what Julian was saying to me.
“I overheard that guy at the bar saying Rob wants you back. I bet it’s because he saw you were capable of letting down your defenses.”
I looked at Julian with a touch of resentment, realizing he’d been standing behind me at the bar for a long time before making his presence known. “I don’t want Rob back, so none of this matters,” I said.
Julian grabbed me by the wrist, and I looked up at him sharply, surprised. “It does matter, Sarah. Because I realized something else. You were able to finally show your passion to Rob, because you knew it was over. He’d crossed the line, and you were done. It’s easy for you to let go of your defenses when you know that right after you can run.”
I felt my lower lip start to quiver again, and felt fear creep into my eyes. “Julian, you’re killing me here,” I said. “I can’t take it,” I added getting up. “I can’t deal with this level of scrutiny. It’s too much. Too much for one night. Too much for a lifetime.”
Julian got to his feet, took three swift steps over to me, and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’m not going to let you run, Sarah, do you understand?”
I looked down, still trembling, and avoiding his gaze. “I have to leave,” I said softly, and tried to pull away.
“So I’m right. I’ve gotten a glimpse of your fire, a glimpse of your core, and now you have to run and hide.”
I felt tears spring to my eyes, and tried to shove him away. “Let me go, Julian,” I said fiercely, struggling in his grasp. He held me tightly as I thrashed in his arms, the tears rushing down my cheeks. Still holding me firmly with one arm, he used his free thumb to gently wipe away my tears.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “I’ve got you. You can let it all out. I won’t drop you, Sarah. I won’t let you fall.”
I felt another sob shudder through me, and then I sunk against Julian’s chest, burying myself against him. He stroked my back, and kissed my hair, and held me tight until I’d cried myself out. Finally he swept me up into his arms, carried me to the living room, and cradled me on his lap, his hand rubbing my back in soothing circles.
I peered up at him, finally realizing what he was offering. Not just sex. Not just commitment. But real intimacy. Julian wanted me, the person I was at my core, and he wasn’t going to settle for anything less. If this had any chance of working, I would have to get over my need to hide. Get over my fear of falling without having anyone there to catch me. He’d proven to me tonight that he
thought about me deeply, and would continue to scrutinize me relentlessly, constantly trying to figure out my wants, my needs, the basic things that made me tick. I’d never met a man like him, and likely wouldn’t meet another like him in my lifetime. He was brilliant, beautiful, special. And so devastatingly sexy I could hardly stand it. And he’d given me the most earth shattering orgasm tonight that I’d ever had. He was right. I was scared of falling head over heels, but everything I’d learned about him so far told me he was worth taking the risk.
“Julian, I want to stay,” I said, running my finger along his cheek. “I want to stay the whole night. I want to sleep curled in your arms, and I want to wake up and see you beside me in the morning.” He looked at me softly, and leaned in closer, kissing the tip of my nose, and then brushing his lips against mine. He kissed me long and deeply, our tongues gently exploring each other’s mouths. But then his kiss got rougher, more insistent. I kissed him back more urgently too. Then his hands were in my hair, cupping my face, sliding up my dress.
He pulled back for a moment and said, “I want to see you completely naked.” I suddenly felt self-conscious again and hesitated. He pulled me to my feet, and hitched my dress over my head. My ripped panties were still up along the roadside in the canyons, so I was standing there fully naked, except for my black lace bra. Julian quickly unclipped it, and it fell to the floor with my dress. Then he stood back, and let his eyes rake over every inch of me. When his eyes came to rest on my breasts, I felt my nipples harden in response. “You’re such a feast for the eyes,” he said, his gaze hungry. “I could stand here all night just staring at your amazing curves.” His voice when he spoke was husky, and the sound of it, and the way he was staring at me, made me giddy with desire.
I swiftly bridged the distance between us, and started frantically pulling off his suit jacket, his shirt, his trousers. And this time he let me. When I finally got his boxers off, I took a step back and let my eyes flutter all over his heavenly body. His broad shoulders were roped with muscle, and his abs were firm and rippled too. I followed the perfect v-cut of his chest down to his groin, and when my eyes found his erection I gasped audibly. His cock was magnificent; long, very thick, and with a vein throbbing on the surface because of his erection. Instantly, I was bending before him, his perfect cock in my hands, angling it toward my mouth. The moment my tongue fluttered along his crown, he let out a low growl, then pushed himself deeper into my mouth. And I took all of him, sucking him to the back of my throat, licking my tongue furiously along his length, then taking the base in my fist, and working my lips and tongue tightly over the crown again. His cock started throbbing in my mouth, and I felt something tighten in him, telling me he was close. I started working my tongue faster, but he reached down to still my mouth, and pulled his cock out. I looked up at him in confusion. “I want to come inside you, Sarah,” he said.
I got to my feet, and he pulled me to him, then slid a finger between my legs. He let out a low growl as his finger slid effortlessly inside me. “You’re so fucking wet,” he said. “So fucking wet and ready for me.” He reached down for his suit jacket, and pulled something out of the pocket. A condom.
I smirked at him and said, “You were really sure you had this one in the bag, didn’t you.”
He gave me a crooked smile and said, “cautious optimism,” then lunged for me. He hoisted me into his arms, pulling my legs on either side of him. I wrapped them around his waist, and he made a fierce animalistic sound at the back of his throat. He backed me over to the couch, and sprawled me out in front of him. Never taking his eyes off me, he ripped open the foil packet, and slid the condom onto his big, beautiful cock. I lay there, looking up into his piercing eyes, panting hard in anticipation. He slowly, gingerly leaned over me, then grabbed one of my legs and angled it up. I felt his tip pressing against my sex, and then he leisurely slid inside me, expanding me, filling me, making me moan from the pleasurable ache.
I felt his body shudder, and he made a hissing noise. “God, you’re so fucking tight, Sarah.” Then all self control left him, and he started pumping me, his pace quickening, his stomach flexing. I grabbed onto his ass, pulling him as deep as he could go. He was so big, I could barely take all of him, but I did, every exquisite inch, and when he plunged deep and hard against my wall, I cried out each time, a wavering ecstatic shiver raging through my body, bringing me closer and closer to losing myself completely. But then he slowed down the pace, stroking my sex in a more drawn out rhythm, but still plunging deep, deep inside of me, his eyes flashing with triumph each time I whimpered and whispered his name.
“Julian, I’m so close,” I murmured, looking up at his fierce eyes, his chest glistening with sweat. The eye contact was too much. He must have sensed I was ready to come, because he stopped thrusting, and waited for me to come back down. “Julian,” I pleaded.
“Tell me what you want, Sarah,” he said, his eyes tense. I could tell he had also been close to the edge, but was holding himself back.
“You know what I want,” I said, squirming, then grabbing his buttocks, trying to pull him deeper inside me.
“Say it,” he said. “I want you to say it.”
“Make me come, Julian. I’m out of my mind.”
“You want me to fuck you senseless? Make you lose control?”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“I want to lose control.” Julian’s eyes glimmered with satisfaction, and then he slammed into me, again and again. I rocked my hips against him, trying to pull him deeper still. He drove into me rhythmically, relentlessly, and I felt my core coil, tighten, and tighten more still, until finally it all released in a big explosion, my orgasm like a million fireworks jolting through me, each burst of pleasure more intense that the last. I vaguely heard myself screaming Julian’s name, and then felt a strong tremor run through his body, and he was grunting and growling above me, coming too. My sex clenched around him eagerly, milking every last drop of cum out of his luscious, quivering cock.
I watched his face contort, his eye blaze with wild, savage energy. With one last spasm of his hips, he collapsed on top of me, nuzzling his face in my neck, kissing it, and stroking my hair. “God, Sarah,” he whispered in my ear, making me shiver beneath him. “That was fucking incredible.”
I slid my hands up and down his rippled back, my hands getting slick with his hot sweat. He pulled himself up and stared down at me, his eyes now soft. He kept stroking my hair. I quivered again under his touch, my body responding to him like it never had to any man before him. He knew how to read me perfectly. He knew when to be hard, rough, and take what he wanted, and when to be gentle, caring, reverent. When both of our breathing had slowed to a normal rhythm, he finally pulled out of me, and went to the kitchen to get rid of the condom. Then he came back and swept me up into his arms. “Where are we going?” I asked.
“To bed,” he said. “You need to sleep, baby. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”
I once again felt a twinge of apprehension about sleeping over, but a deal was a deal. I pushed down my fears and let him carry me up the curving walnut stairs, down a long hall, and to his bedroom. He put me down gently on his king sized bed, the black silk sheets feeling cool and smooth underneath me. I looked around. One wall was made of the same blue tinted glass as in the living room, and looked out onto the ocean.
“What an incredible view to wake up to,” I said.
He had moved over to his walk-in closet, but his eyes flicked back to me. “The view is what sold me on the house,” he said. “Every morning I get up and watch the waves crash, and then, if I have time, I grab my board and hit the surf.”
“You’re a surfer?” I asked, my voice full of surprise.
“Why yes, Ms. Stevens. Does that shock you?” he asked, a curious glint in his eye.
I shrugged my shoulders, fluffed a pillow and leaned my elbow on it. “I don’t know. I guess I took you for more of a golf guy. Playing a few holes and then sipping M
erlot on the country club patio.”
Julian let out a long laugh. “No self-respecting born and bred L.A. boy would pick golf over surfing.”
“I surf too.” I said. “I’m pretty good. I could probably kick your ass.” The corner of his mouth quirked up.
“We’ll see about that, Ms. Stevens. This weekend. You’ll spend it here, and I’ll see just how good you are at riding those swells.”
I bit my lip, and shook my head.
“Ah, so you were bluffing,” he said.
I smiled. “No, I’m still ready to show you up, but my friend Lisa is coming to town this weekend. I haven’t seen her in a month, and we’re going to need some time to catch up.”
“Bring her with you on Saturday. I’d love to meet her.”