“Lay on your stomach,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Legs together.”
My heart raced faster and my breath kept getting caught in my throat. She moved instantly, rolling over gracefully. She stretched out flat, head turned, eyes closed, her legs together.
I watched, paralyzed, as Julian stood up, stripped off his boxers letting his dick spring free, jutting out from his body with insistence. He was magnificent. My body reacted traitorously, a flush of yearning rose up my body at the sight of him, as memories of how good he felt flooded my system.
He climbed onto the bed, straddling her legs, gliding a hand over her ass. He hovered over her, planting his hands on either side of her shoulders. Then lowered his hips, letting the heavy length of his dick slide between her cheeks, teasing her. He bit gently at the back of her neck, his teeth scraping her skin there.
She moaned, a low, throaty sound that seemed to pull the air out of the room. She pushed her hips back against him, seeking friction.
“Patience,” he said against her ear, but his own restraint was visibly snapping. He shifted his hips, aligning himself with her pussy, and with one slow, smooth thrust, he pushed inside her. I saw her fingers claw into the pillows, her back bowed further in the air as he filled her. Julian groaned and his head dropped forward, and he didn't stop until his pelvis was flush against her ass.
Then he began to move. Long, slow, deep strokes where he’d pull almost all the way out, then plunge back in, grinding his hips against her at the bottom of every thrust. The rhythm was hypnotic, a slow torture that built tension like a tightening wire.
“Juliannnn,” she whined and moaned, her voice choked with ecstasy.
“Mmph, you feeltoogood,” he growled with a strained voice. “Toogood.”
That caught me off guard. Julian was a quiet lover. Barely even grunted or groaned, let alone expressing his pleasure with words.
He picked up his pace, alternating between slow, grinding circles and fast, punishing thrusts. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, a wet, rhythmic,thwack-thwack-thwack, that drowned out my own exploding heartbeat. I watched the muscles in his back ripple and flex with every movement, glistening with a sheen of sweat. He was a machine, driving into her with a primal intensity that made the bed frame creak and rock.
She was unraveling beneath him. Wailing out with every deep stroke, her body trembling uncontrollably. The way he took her, even from behind? It was possession. Claiming.
“Bend your knees,” he ordered suddenly.
She struggled to comply, bringing her legs up so her feet were in the air, her knees bent at a ninety-degree angle behind his back. The position changed the angle of her hips, opening her up.
Julian sat back on his heels for a moment, reached behind his back and grabbed her ankles, pulling them toward him, using her legs as an anchor. I was shook.
He slammed back into her, at an angle I was sure was impossibly deep.
“Oh My—Julian!Yeeees!” Alyssa cried out, her voice shaking.
He used the leverage of her legs to piston into her, relentlessly. The bed was shaking violently, the headboard slamming against the wall with thuds. They were lost in it.
“I’m…comiiing,” she sobbed, her hands gripping the sheets so hard the corner of the bottom sheet slipped off the mattress. “Yes…Yes…YES….Yeeeeeees…Ohhhhhhhhh!”
He let go of her legs and slowed down, as her body went rigid, then she let out a sound that was gasping and sobbing, as the orgasm tore through her. Her legs shook.
“Fuuuuuu—” he hit his peak and let out a guttural roar, his body seizing as his climax took him.
They lay there tangled together, heaving. Slowly, the tension drained out of Julian’s shoulders and he carefully pulled out of her.
No condom. In all the time I had been with him, he never went without protection. It was a strict rule with him, yet there he was giving it to herraw?
My heart sank.
He turned her spent body onto her side and pulled her into his arms, kissing her face, her forehead, her lips, mumbling soft words I couldn't catch. She was still trembling, small aftershocks rippling through her.
“I’ll get you a washcloth,” he told her, brushing a stray hair away from her forehead. “Want water?”
She could only nod.
He climbed off the bed and grabbed a bottle of water off a shelf, handing it to her. Then he disappeared into the bathroom. I could hear the toilet flush and the faucet run. He returned with a washcloth and sat on the edge of the bed. She was still catching her breath and had not opened the water yet, so he lifted her head, twisted off the cap and helped her sip. She drank greedily, her hand resting on his thigh. When she was done, he set the bottle down, and gently wiped her down with atenderness that brought tears to my eyes. He touched her as if she were made of spun glass, not the woman he’d just ravaged within an inch of being comatose.
He cut off the lamp and pulled the heavy duvet up, cocooning them. She immediately rolled into him, burying her face in his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.
“I love you,” he said softly.
