His villainous eyes follow me as I climb off his lap and walk into the kitchen. While I prepare the focaccia, sprinkling rosemary and thyme over the dough, I see Julian rise from the piano bench. There seems to be some sort of intent in his eyes, but I try not to get my hopes up.
Disappointment washes over me as he pulls open the fridge to retrieve a drink. As he cracks it open and takes a sip, I chew on mybottom lip. My fingers poke divots into the dough. Then I reach for the salt dish and start sprinkling the flakes over the wet dough.
After placing the baking dish in the oven, I turn and move to the sink to rinse my hands. Just after I grab the towel to dry them, he pounces. Taking me by surprise, he pins me against the kitchen counter.
Without a word, he unbuttons his pants, and my heart pounds wildly. Adrenaline and arousal flood my system at the sound of his belt coming undone.
Julian puts space between us as he slips his fingers under the elastic band of my pants and yanks them down. I let out a gasping yelp as he jerks my hips back and prods my core with the blunt head of his cock.
Keeping my moans to a minimum, I grip the counter tightly as he thrusts his way in, pounding his hips against my backside. There’s something so primal about it, him taking me whenever he wants.
He’s not slow or sweet about it. Once he’s inside me, he thrusts hard and quick. His grunts are loud, and my moans grow higher pitched with each crash of his body against mine.
As much as I want to tell him not to stop and how good this feels, I keep my voice as silent as possible. This is his moment. I amhis, and it’s bizarre to me how much that turns me on.
If I didn’t love it so much, this would be a dry, painful experience, but as it so happens, I’m soaked for him, and he can feel it. Ever since we were tested and I got on birth control, we took that leap into condomless sex. It’s been like a whole new world for all of us. No more barriers. Just us.
Burying his hand in my hair, he forces my head down, nearly bending me in half. I surrender to his force, letting him put me where he wants me. Before long, his thrusts start to speed up the way they do right before he comes. It’s a quickie, hot and dirty, and I love it.
But before Julian has a chance to finish, the front doorunlocks, and we both look up to watch Archer walking into the apartment. He’s sweaty and red-faced as he stops in the entryway and stares at us briefly. Then, with a subtle smirk, he nods in appreciation.
Julian doesn’t freeze. His hips keep up their movement. Even when Archer lets the door close behind him and he kicks off his shoes as if he’s just found us playing poker instead of fucking against the countertop.
Without saying a word, he walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge so nonchalantly, it somehow makes this entire thing even hotter. As he snatches out a bottle of water and uncaps the lid, he watches us like this is a spectator sport.
Finally, as he leaves the kitchen, I hear him talking to himself. Heading into Julian’s room, he says, “I fucking love my life.”
The moment Archer disappears around the corner, Julian groans out his release. His cock twitches inside me moments before he rests his forehead against my back. Then, as if nothing happened, he pulls out, letting his cum drip down my leg. After pulling up my pants, he kisses the side of my face and picks up his drink.
Nonchalantly, he leaves the kitchen, heading toward the piano in the corner. I turn around to find the water boiling, so I quickly get back to work on dinner with a new pleased blush to my cheeks. He starts playing the piano again, filling the apartment with beautiful sound. And the next time I turn around to look at Julian, I find him smiling to himself.
Rule #31: Love is worth the risk.
Julian
Sitting in my office, I stare at the screen, reading an emailfrom a VR tech manufacturer trying to sell me on some virtual reality sex experience we could incorporate in the club. For the most part, I’m excited about the idea—sex on the beach in Bali without having to get on a plane—but I don’t like this guy’s attitude. He’s trying too hard to convince me his tech is up to speed, and it’s giving red flags.
“Next,” I mutter as I click the Delete button.
“Knock, knock.”
So lost in my work, I didn’t even spot the person standing in my doorway. Lifting my gaze, I stare at my dad as he leans against the doorframe.
“Oh, hey,” I say as I turn my chair to face him.
“I’m not disturbing you, am I?”
Well, technically yes. I am at work, but I can’t say that to him.
“No, just checking emails. What are you doing here?”
He shoves his hands in his pockets and gives me a casual smirk. “Came to see if my son would like to have lunch with me.”
I clear my throat, ready to make some excuse about how I’m swamped with emails—I have two—or that I’m the only owner on staff right now during our weekend demos downstairs, which really doesn’t matter. We have two floor managers and a full staff to man the club.
Why am I avoiding him? What the hell is wrong with me?
“Yeah, sure,” I say as I stand from my chair.
