by Virna DePaul
“Thank you. But you haven’t heard the reason yet.” She sighs and then takes a deep breath. “I was attending college on a music scholarship, focusing on guitar and singing. I loved it. I never wanted to graduate. I had friends, and my professors liked me, and my grades were good. Great, even. I was at the top of my class. But then I met the professor that didn’t like me. The professor that everyone revered. Put on a pedestal. He came on to me. I refused him. He basically told me I sucked. That I’d never be more than a hack. Only I didn’t listen to him.”
I stroke her hand. “Good. I’m glad you didn’t.”
She shakes her head and smiles sadly. “One night, I went to a party at a frat house. No big deal, right? This frat was notorious for its parties, and I’d never had the balls to go to one. But this time I wanted to do it.”
My mind whirls with scenarios, hoping against hope they don’t come true. Was she assaulted? Raped? The thought makes me sick inside.
“I didn’t get it at first, why everyone was being so cold to me. So mean. But I figured it out soon enough. Someone had spread a rumor that I’d come on to Professor Macintosh. That I wanted to have sex with him in exchange for a passing grade. Because I was just an untalented hack otherwise. For the next several weeks, I became somewhat of a target. If you can picture the jock that knocked books out of the nerd’s hands in high school? Well, it wasn’t too terribly different from that, only it was more mental than physical bullying, and we were in college, for God’s sake. My grades started to suffer. I fell into a depression so bad I started skipping classes. Started missing work until my boss let me go. I no longer had a way to pay for my living expenses, which weren’t covered by my scholarship, and if my grades continued to fall, I wouldn’t even have the scholarship to rely on for much longer. I can’t believe it now…what I did…but I just gave up. Packed up all my things. Quit school. I was depressed for a long time and when I finally started to come out of it…” She shrugs. “I regretted quitting school, but what could I do? I was too proud to go back. Too proud, can you believe it? I gave up my dream for something so stupid and I…”
She’s shaking, her face twisted with disgust. Not disgust for her asshole professor or the college kids who’d treated her poorly, but disgust at herself.
I grip her hand tighter. “You were young, Julia. Filled with self-doubt. You were upset—”
She returns her gaze to me, sadness and shame in her face. “I cared too much about what other people thought. Isn’t that laughable? Because as grateful as I am to Mr. Cooper for giving me a job, I’ve spent the last five years working in a grocery store, going nowhere, doing nothing, being no one.”
“Stop it,” I snap. “You are someone. You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met and I don’t want to hear you talk like that about yourself. When you’re ready, you’ll go back.”
She shakes her head. “That time in my life has passed. It would be silly to go back now.”
“It would be silly if you didn’t go back—” I begin, but she ignores me.
“I just wanted to tell you about what happened—what I did—because you shouldn’t be embarrassed by being sick. If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s me.”
I’m touched. My chest contracts, and I know that I’m very close to falling in love with this woman. “You’re a better person than anyone I’ve ever known,” I tell her.
For the next hour, I hold her and very little is spoken between us. It’s as if we’ve both bared our souls and have nothing left to give but the comfort of our bodies touching.
“I should go and let you get some rest,” she finally says and pulls away.
I want to ask her to stay and sleep with me, just sleep, but she looks tired, and I don’t want to crowd her. So I simply push back her hair, kiss her forehead tenderly, and say, “Thank you. For being here with me. For sharing what you did.”
She blushes a little and gives me a hug. Then a kiss. Then another. We’re both breathless by the time she breaks away and actually makes it out the door.
When I hear her car pull away from my driveway, I lean back into the pillows and sigh.
How could I ever have thought I’d be able to resist a woman like Julia Rominger?
—
I’m back at work the following Monday. Although I’m still tired and I have to take things easy, I’m able to meet with clients and talk with Lucian about what I missed while I was ill. I also make sure to keep texting with Julia, who has been adorably relentless in checking up on me.
I know now that avoiding her will never, ever work, and it’s an amazing feeling.
Monday turns to Tuesday and Tuesday to Wednesday, and although Julia and I talk often and meet for lunch and two dinners, I can feel the slight distance she’s put between us. At first I wonder if seeing me sick has made her think differently about me. But then I remember how hard it was for her to tell me how she’d quit school, and I realize she’s still embarrassed. And maybe afraid that I’ll have lost respect for her, after all.
Foolish girl. I have the utmost respect for her. And I’m determined to help her regain the confidence to pursue her dreams. I’m equally determined to get our relationship back on track. We’ve kissed and made out plenty over the past week, but whenever things should have progressed to the bedroom, she’s pulled away and made an excuse about being tired or needing to be somewhere. I wonder if she thinks she’s doing the right thing, letting me get back my strength before demanding too much of me, and the thought pleases me even as it annoys me. I don’t want to be coddled or treated like an invalid. What I do want is to taste her. Touch her. It’s been too damn long, and—
When my cellphone rings and I see the caller is Julia, my annoyance is instantly replaced with joy. There’s no denying it—I’m gone for Julia Rominger, and I don’t care if the whole fucking world knows at this point.
“I was just thinking about you,” I say when I pick up.
“Really?” she asks, her tone pleased. “How do you feel about seeing me? I got off work early today and I was thinking I could make you dinner.”
“Where are you now?”
“At home,” she says, and I immediately picture her out of her work clothes, fresh out of the shower. The mental image has me instantly hard and yearning for her. I stand and lock my office door before sitting down again.
“What are you wearing?”
Silence. Then the barely-there puffs of her quickened breathing. “Um…I…I just got out of my uniform and was about to take a shower.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, Julia,” I say, deliberately adding an edge of command to my voice. In the past, Julia’s enjoyed it when I took charge, when I threw her off guard, and that’s exactly what I plan to do now.
I want her so consumed by passion that she can’t possibly worry about my health, or her past, or any other damn thing besides when and how I’m going to get her off.
“I’m in a robe,” she finally says. She takes another deep breath, like she’s gathering her courage. Then, in a throaty voice that sends a burst of electricity through my body, she says, “And I’m naked underneath it.”
I close my eyes with a sigh. Then my hand rises to the top of my white button-down and my fingers begin popping buttons. “I wish I was there with you.” I finish popping the buttons of my shirt and toss it to the floor. I caress my bare chest with one hand. “Tell me what you see when you look at yourself. Are your nipples hard? Are you flushed and hot?”
She makes a sound. “My nipples have been hard since you started talking to me.”
I groan. “Fuck, Julia. Keep talking to me.”
“My breasts feel heavy, like I need you to touch them. Cup them and play with them. I wish your fingers were here, stroking my nipples until they’re aching. All day, my nipples have been swollen because I keep imagining you touching me.” She’s panting now. “I can’t get anything done because I want you so much.”
“And I feel the same way. My cock gets hard whenever I th
ink of you. I have to stop myself from getting one off every time I so much as think your name.”
We’re both breathing heavily now. I imagine her scent, her warmth, her smile. My cock is swollen against my pants. I unbuckle my belt and unzip my trousers; my cock strains against my boxers.
“I want to touch you. But since I can’t, I want you to do it for me,” I tell her.
“Right now?”
“Right now, Julia.” My hand roams past my belly button to flirt with the lining of my trousers. “Are you touching yourself?”
“Um…”
“Are you? Or were you just looking at your beautiful body in the mirror? Tell me. I don’t like fakers.”
She lets out a laugh. “Fine. I have been touching myself. My nipples and my pussy.”
“Imagine me there, my body hovering above yours.”
“Okay. I am.”
“Now imagine my cock brushing your clit, so close to thrusting inside of you.”
She gasps. “Wow. This is getting very graphic.” She sounds excited, though, and it only makes me more excited as well.
But I have to make sure: “Does that bother you? Because we don’t have to do this.” Please tell me you want to do it. Please. I need this right now. I need you.
“No, no. I want to.” She breathes heavily. “What are you going to do next?”
“I’m about to enter you.” I push my boxers down slightly, just enough so that I can take hold of my hard cock. My fingers wrap around the base, and I stumble on my own breath. “I’m above you, shaking with anticipation. I want to feel myself inside of you, but I’m waiting for permission.”
Julia’s silent as I begin to stroke my dick with a slow rhythm. Although I’m tempted to squeeze and stroke myself into oblivion, I force myself to keep things leisurely. I want this to last.
“Julia?” I question. “Are you still there?”
“Yes.” She swallows audibly. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to tell me to fuck you.”
“Yes, please.” Her voice is breathy.
I thumb the slit at the tip of my cock, leaking pre-cum. “But since I’m not there, I want you to close your eyes. Press one of your fingers against yourself. Imagine me there as you push a finger inside of your tight cunt, imagining that it’s my breath hot against your neck as I sink into you, all the way until I’m filling you to the hilt.”
She moans through the phone, and it turns me on beyond belief. My cock hardens even more. My fist pumps up and down my manhood, and my dick is threatening to erupt at any moment. Just thinking about her fingering herself, her pussy wet and pink, her entire body flushed, sends my mind into a tailspin.
“How does it feel, Julia? How does it feel to have me deep inside you? How do you want to be fucked?”
“How do you want to fuck me?” she counters.
“I want to fuck you hard.” I choke on my breath as I fight an impending eruption. “I want to turn you over. I want you to crawl on all four as I fuck your tight pussy from behind with my fingers curled in your hair.”
“Yes!”
“I’m deep,” I groan. “Too deep. I want to come inside your hot pussy.”
“Make me come. Oh my God, Bastian, I’m so close.”
“I want you to come around my cock.” I increase the speed and intensity of my strokes so that I start with the base and slip over the head with each pump. In my imagination, I can feel every ridge of her pussy. I can feel her warmth and her depth, and as her breathing escalates, I can feel her tightening around my cock.
All of a sudden her voice is muffled, but I can still hear her cry out in ecstasy as she climaxes. I can see her leaning backward as she fucks herself, her breasts rising and falling with each breath. Does her pussy get even wetter as she comes? Just the very thought of that sends me over the edge as I stroke myself to completion, shooting my seed all over my heaving abs.
I throw my head back and fight to catch my breath as I come down from one impossible high. From my phone, I hear rustling and then her heavy breathing on the other end.
“I’m sorry,” I say after a few moments. “I can’t make dinner tonight, Julia. I have a meeting. But you can bet, the next time I see you, I’m going to feast, not on food, but on your body.”
“Sounds perfect to me,” she says softly.
Chapter 21
Bastian
A few hours later, I’m sitting in my meeting, doing my damndest to listen to Lucian as he goes over investment opportunities for a client. Ever since I got off the phone with Julia, I’ve been fighting this burning need to see her. Touch her.
Once again, it concerns me just how needy she makes me, and I’m resolved to get through this business meeting and the rest of the night the way I would have pre-Julia.
For the next half hour, I manage to keep my mind on business. At one point, Lucian tells me that the client, a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model, will be referring a few of her model friends—two whose names I recognize and whose previous layouts I recall being very impressed with—to RichCo. Deliberately, I try conjuring images of past SI models in my head, ruthlessly comparing Julia to them, if only to try and garner some perspective about my runaway feelings. But my brain has a hard time even picturing the models. As always, the mere thought of Julia has me enthralled. How pretty she is. How smart and wholesome and genuinely kind. How funny. Next to all that is her—real and multidimensional—the 2D fantasies of swimsuit models pale in comparison.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I need to give in already. The truth is, I am firmly entrenched in a post-Julia world, and I just need to grow the fuck up and revel in it instead of trying to question my feelings for her all the time.
I told her I wouldn’t see her tonight, but I can’t help myself. I want to see Julia. I need to see her, so as soon as my meeting with Lucian is over, I get into my car and drive straight to her place.
After knocking on her door, I wait. No response. I turn the knob, and to my surprise, it’s unlocked.
I need to talk to her about leaving her door unlocked, I think, but I can’t complain. I shut the door quietly—and lock it—making my way to her bedroom. A light is on in the kitchen, and I see a shadow rush down the hallway. The shadow soon transforms into a big black cat—Samson.
I let out a soft laugh. “Hey, boy. It’s just me.” I scratch the cat behind his ears before continuing on to Julia’s room.
I walk into her room quietly, not wanting to startle her. Some light shines through from the streetlamps below, which allows me to see Julia fast asleep in her bed. She’s sprawled on her stomach, the comforter clutched in her hand. I almost don’t want to wake her up, she looks so peaceful.
But I remember the phone sex from earlier, and I can’t resist. I touch her forehead, and then after I rub her shoulder, she moans and wakes up. Her eyelashes flutter.
“Bastian?” Her voice is croaky with sleep. “What are you doing here?”
I sit down on the bed, and she stretches and sits up with a yawn. “I needed to see you,” I reply.
It takes her a few more moments to wake up, and I wait. But it’s a struggle. I need her so badly that I can feel it in my bones.
“Wait, how did you get inside?” she asks me in confusion.
“You left your front door unlocked. Which we will discuss—later.”
“Oh, are we—?”
I cut off her reply with a kiss. She tastes like mint, and I delve my tongue between her lips to taste more of her. The phone sex was amazing, but this is what I truly needed: her, with me, beside me. Underneath me. She lets out a moan that only turns me on more. I’ve been hard all evening, thinking about her.
“I thought you said you had a meeting.” She tilts her head back to give me better access to kiss her neck.
“I did. I didn’t hear a damn thing in it because I needed to see you.” I sound like I’m accusing her of something, and I guess in a way, I am. She’s completely upset my life since I first saw her working. Hadn
’t my life been just fine before she’d come barreling into it?
“Bastian…” She sighs as she runs her fingers through my hair.
I lick and taste her skin, loving the warmth permeating from her. Soon, we sink into the bed, and I press my hips against hers. She moans my name. I kiss her harder as I push my cock against the place I’ve been dreaming about for hours today.
We don’t waste any time. It’s as if we’ve been starving for each other for years. We strip out of our clothes, and then we’re naked, kissing and touching. I suck her nipples, and she runs her fingers down my chest. I’m on fire for her, and I’m half afraid I’ll combust before we get to the main act. When has any woman gotten under my skin like this?
I part her legs and touch her pussy, finding her wet already. She parts her legs farther to give me better access. I slick a finger through her folds, but I need to be inside her. I need to feel her around me.
I mutter an apology when I get up and begin to rifle through my wallet for a condom. I hear her laugh huskily, and no doubt she’s remembering when she held on to my wallet and found the condoms in there. I growl as I climb back on top of her, sheathing my cock in the latex before pressing the tip against her core.
“Are you laughing at me?” I slowly inch inside her, and I close my eyes at the feeling.
“No, I would never laugh at you. Oh God, why are you going so slow?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh.
I enter her inch by inch until I’m completely inside her, just like I told her to imagine I was when we talked on the phone. She lets out a mewling cry when I don’t move. Clutching at my forearms, she tries to buck her hips to get me to move.
“Bastian…”
I suck at her neck before saying, “Tell me again, Julia. How do you want me to fuck you?”
“Hard,” she says without any hesitation. Not this time. “Hard and fast.”
I chuckle, but then the chuckle turns into a groan when I pull out and slam back inside her. She squeals, her nails digging into my arms. I thrust in relentless strokes, our bodies slapping together. The headboard squeaks, but it just provides a harmony to the melody of our groans and curses as we climb higher and higher.