Chapter 9 – Alyssa
Good one, Alyssa. Let the man take you into an empty room and slam you against the wall. What is this? Your third date with him?
It’s like he senses how weak I am. All it takes is the insulation that we can have sex one last time – that he can somehow show me how much he loves me with nothing but his body – and I’m like that same thirsty virgin dumbass all over again. Sure, Julian. Show me what’s what with your dick one last time! God knows it might be the last time I have good sex for the rest of my life. Because I will compare every other man I’m ever with to you.
I should be embarrassed by how ready I am for him. No foreplay. No stimulation until his hand is between my legs, and that’s only to shove my pesky underwear to the side and make sure I’m not wearing any sheer tights beneath my dress. (I’m not.) I barely touch him aside from grabbing onto his shoulders and wrapping my legs around his waist. For God’s sake, what if somebody sees us through the window?
He would probably like that. This man has suggested that he has some exhibitionist tendencies before. What better way to show the world that he loves me than by being caught fucking me?
There are two sides to going at it this quickly. One side says we should do it now before I change my mind. I haven’t been with anyone since that day I walked out of Preston Bradley’s manor. I don’t want to think about what Julian might have done since I told him it was over. He could pine after me all he wants. I know how he is. He probably fucked the first woman he came across, if only to get my taste out of his mouth.
Too bad that’s my taste in his mouth right now.
“Do you want me at all, Lyssa?”
Guess my wet pussy doesn’t broadcast that enough. Because like I said, we’ve had zero foreplay and he’s already going for it, the head of his cock prying apart my slick slit and pushing into my crevice. Julian always penetrates me effortlessly, but it doesn’t stop me from being shocked over how much I want him every time. The man barely whispers the word sex and I’m wetter than I’ve ever been in my life.
“Yes, Julian.” I meet his kiss the moment he enters me, my fingers digging into the back of his head and my body splitting in two for him. “I want you.”
That’s not an admission that we’re getting back together, though. That only means I love having sex with him.
One more for the road… if nothing else…
Shit, I’m such a slut!
Maybe it’s best if I debase myself like this the last time we have sex. Maybe it’s for the best if I kiss him so hard that I black out. Maybe I should concentrate on getting a great orgasm out of this encounter so I can at least treasure that for the rest of my life. God knows I’ve got the front of his shirt unbuttoned so his hard, warm chest presses against me as he completely devours my whole body and attempts to make it his all over again.
This is the trouble I fell into the first time we did. This is how I ended up down that destructive path being Julian Marcus’s girlfriend.
Is this going to be the rest of my life? Trying to move on, only to cross paths with him no matter where I go in world? Knowing looks? Flushed cheeks? Getting cornered in the hallway and asked for a quickie in an empty room? Will he be married? Will I be married? Will we cheat on our future significant others because we can’t keep our hands off each other, even though I’m eternally so pissed off at him that I can’t stand the thought of being his Mrs. Marcus?
Will he knock me up one day and I’ve got to explain that to my husband? I told you. I’m a slut. For him.
All it took was one look, one insinuation that he wanted to bed me, and there I was, legs spread wide open and breasts popping out of my blouse. On his desk! We didn’t even make it to a bed!
Now he says he wants me, and I’ve got my legs wrapped around him at his brother’s wedding!
“Yes, Julian.” I can’t stop the words coming out of my mouth. Every time he thrusts into me, it’s like more words are pulled from my body. “I want you!”
Desperation mounts. Hell, he mounts me. But now I can’t control myself. I’m full of my affections for this man I know I’ll never be able to shake. He could leave me alone forever, but he’ll always be lurking in the corner of my eye and haunting my heart. I guess it’s true. A girl never forgets her first.
Especially if her first is a man like him.
“I want you too.” He kisses me with such ardor that I almost forget I’m on the verge of coming. “I fucking love you, Lyssa. That’s not a lie.”
I’d been waiting for him to say those words ever since I realized he has genuine affection for me. Now that he’s said those words not once, but twice, I’m ready to fully embrace the fantasy that we’re going to be together forever. I don’t only want that sweet fantasy. I need it. I crave it.
I crave him.
He can’t control it, for once. Usually, Julian makes a game out of making me come first, or at least letting us come together. Rarely has he ever come first, unless that was a part of the game. That’s how much control he usually has over himself.
So when I feel him come before I even have the chance? I suppose most women wouldn’t understand why I consider that a sign of his feelings for me. If you can’t understand, that’s fine. But let me say this: Julian would never lose control like this with a woman he didn’t genuinely love. He’s not a member of the amateur club. His ego would never let him succumb to something like that.
“Julian…” I’m pushed over the edge. The realization that he’s telling the truth makes me come with a slow, hot burn that drains him of the last of his seed deep, deep within me. The intimate sensation creates a new bond between us that wasn’t there before I walked out on him.
Still, this doesn’t let him off the hook.
Still… when I press my forehead to his the moment I climb down from my climax, I know that I will never be able to love another man the way I love this one.
“Don’t push me away, my love.”
I give him a sleepy grin. “You’ve still got some groveling to do, Mr. Marcus.”
He slowly slips out of me. So much for my fancy, expensive dress. Good luck to whatever dry cleaner has to get rid of the brand new stain left when he pulls out his cock and releases the wonderful damage he’s done to my (in some ways yet) virginal body.
“I’ve got the whole damn day to grovel to you. This is only the beginning of my third chance at groveling, Lyssa.”
I’m going to hold him to it. We are at a wedding, after all.