Chapter Forty-One

Julia

I THOUGHT I KNEW WHAT an orgasm felt like, but all those times I've made myself come with my fingers were just a small taste of reality. Euphoria rushes through my body, sweeping me away for a hundred miles, sending me spinning and spinning, and all I can do is allow the overwhelming sensations to crash over me, my throat ringing with my cries of pleasure. 

I'm flooded with warmth as Giles pumps into me for the last time. I soak in his wild groan, his frantic breathing, and the way he all but collapses onto me, utterly spent.

We've gone completely still, but he's still inside of me. I don't want him to ever pull out.

He props up on his elbows and stares at me, eyes trailing over my hairline and lips before settling over my eyes. "You're so beautiful. I don't know how I kept my hands off of you for this long."

"You didn't," I remind him.

He grins. "I've thought about that night in the game room every day since. I've taken longer showers because of it, handling the painful hard-on you gave me every time I thought of it. But Julia? I might need extra showers every day to handle my thoughts of tonight." He buries his face into the side of my neck and inhales. "God, that felt so good. I've never come so hard."

His words please me and I'm relieved to hear him say he enjoyed it as much as I did. It's like I've been given a spoonful of ecstasy and he holds the rest of the bottle. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I tug his lower body even closer, his still lingering erection sliding farther in. 

"I want more." 

He laughs, pulling his head up to kiss me. "I do, too, little leopard. But I'm going to need a minute. Or twenty."

I try not to frown and instead busy myself by running my fingers through his hair. I've always known he was handsome, but something about us lying on each other naked after reaching a blissful state together, makes me notice it in different ways. 

"We've crossed the line, all right," I say, softly.

He runs a hand down the side of my body, tracing my curves and rounding my breasts. "I never want to go back." 

We have sex again, oblivious to the hoards of people in the house. Not caring if the music and chatter from outside the room are enough to mask the sounds of our lovemaking. 

He's intuitive, reading my body and my moans to gauge where to touch me and how fast to go. I can tell he's being gentle with me, and I'm secretly glad because it's like I'm bursting at the seams from the way he fills me. Even still, his passion can't be contained and every stroke, every move is highly charged with need, ablaze with desire. 

He radiates how badly he wants me in the smallest ways and takes me so passionately it's hard for me to catch my breath. When he makes me come again, it's just as vibrant and euphoric as the first time. The second orgasm leaves me with an even bigger appetite for more. And I realize this is only the beginning of us exploring each other's bodies. That I've only discovered the tip of the iceberg of the delirium we can experience together.

I wake up to our naked bodies tangled between the sheets. It's impossible to hold back the stupid grin that comes over my face when I look at his sleeping face and think about last night.

After he wakes up, he takes me in the shower for a long time. The water running cold as our bodies continue to wind and grind against each other. He holds me up in his arms and my back slides up and down the slick shower wall with his thrusts. I bite down on my lip to keep my moans low, even while he's driving me out of control. I've never felt so good in my life, I've never craved anyone, or anything, more than the way I crave him, even while he's buried deep in me.

His thrusts grow desperate when I say, between whimpers, that I'll be late for work. And soon, I'm forced to bury my face into his neck to muffle the long cry of pleasure as I'm plunged into my second orgasm of the morning. Or is it afternoon now?

When we are out of the shower, he insists on drying me, taking care to drag the towel over each inch of my body, kissing some places as he goes. I have to pry myself out of his arms long enough to get dressed and slip out of the room. 

It's not until I shut his door behind me that I realize I've got to walk down the hall to my room in last night's clothes. I've done it in my pajamas every morning for what seems like forever. But somehow this morning is different. My body feels strange in even stranger ways. I can still feel him inside of me, which doesn't make sense since I'm also achingly empty and sore between my legs.

I never want to go back.

His words chime in my ear during my entire walk to work. A smile creeps over my lips even as I try to remain, to the outside world, perfectly unaffected.