“Then don’t.” He crashes his mouth to mine like he’s claiming every hidden piece of me, branding me with it.
No gentle exploration. No tentative testing of boundaries. No first-kiss sweetness.
Just heat and hunger and the sharp edge of his teeth catching my lower lip.
His lips move against mine, demanding, devouring, like he’s been starving and I’m the first meal he’s seen in weeks. My body ignites, every nerve ending sparking to life as his tongue traces the seam of my lips.
My lips part on a gasp, and he takes the invitation gladly, tongue sweeping into my mouth with a groan that vibrates through my bones, straight to my throbbing clit. It unlocks something deep inside of me. Something feral and needy that I’ve kept caged my entire life, but not anymore. I kiss him back just as hard, just as desperate, fighting against his restraint on my hands, needing to touch, to cling, to surrender everything I’ve held back.
The carpet burns against my shoulders as he presses closer, his body a furnace above mine.
“Fuck.” He breaks away, panting, then dives back in with another groan—deeper this time, animalistic—as he grinds his thick erection between my legs. Even through our clothes, thefriction sparks heat that coils low in my stomach, tight and insistent. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted?—”
“Julien.”
He releases one of my hands to cup my face, thumb brushing my swollen lips, his touch rough yet reverent. “Say it again.”
“What?”
“My name.” His mouth moves to my jaw, teeth scraping along the line of it. “Say it again. Louder. Let me hear how much you need me.”
“Julien.” Breathless. Desperate. “Please.”
He rewards me by finding a spot below my ear that makes my breath hitch. “Good girl.” He latches onto it, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, his tongue flicking against the sensitised skin, and some distant part of my brain registers that everyone will see it tomorrow.
And I… simply don’t care.
Let them see. Let them know.
I cup the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair, guiding him back to my lips. His kiss tastes like possession now, like ownership, like the fantasies coming fully to life. His free hand finds my thigh, hooking it around his hip, changing the angle so his erection presses exactly where I need him, creating friction against my clit through the annoying layers of fabric.
I whimper into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his growl, my hips bucking up, chasing like I’m the one starving.
“Fuck, you’re responsive.” His voice is gravel and smoke. “You’re wet, aren’t you?”
“Julien, please?—”
“Do you want me to stop?” His forehead drops to mine, both of us panting. “If this is too fast, and I’ll?—”
I kiss him again.
Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. Don’t let me disappear anymore.
His smile against my lips is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever felt. Relief, hunger, and something that feels like victory. Then he shifts, putting me on top of him in one fluid movement, his hands finding the hem of my shirt.
“Off.” The command sends liquid heat straight to my core.
He yanks it over my head, and I attack his belt buckle with trembling fingers, fumbling with the mechanism until he helps me, shoving his jeans down his hips with rough efficiency. My sports bra goes next, flying somewhere across the room.
The cool air hits my fevered skin, pebbling my nipples, but his gaze is worse in the best way, devouring me, dark and possessive, making me feel exposed, wanted, and seen.
“Beautiful.” The word comes out hushed, reverent, gliding over my skin like a caress. Then his mouth finds my breast, and reverence gives way to hunger.
He sucks hard enough to make me cry out, my fingers digging into the back of his head, nails scraping against his scalp. His tongue flicks against my nipple before he bites down gently.
No patience. No slow buildup. Just desperate need and weeks of tension, finally snapping.
He rolls us again, his strength effortless, and works my jeans down my legs. I kick them off along with my soaked underwear, the cotton clinging to my slick skin. Then he digs into his pocket for a condom—thank god one of us is thinking—tearing the foil open with his teeth while his eyes lock on mine, promising devastation.
