Julia

So much for feeling like a badass.

Now I feel stupid, being self-conscious about wearing Spanx. But I can’t stand the thought of Bastian seeing me like that, so, lights off it is. Anyway, it’s kind of sexy, not seeing the other person but going by touch, sound, and taste.

He switches off the overhead light, plunging us into darkness. His curtains block out the streetlamps outside, so I can only just make him out in the dark. He helps me unzip my dress, laughing a little when the zipper gets stuck, and I help him unbutton his shirt. It’s awkward and there’s a lot of fumbling, but he can’t stop kissing me at the same time. When I’m in my underwear, I shuck off my Spanx before he notices I’m wearing them, tossing them to parts unknown.

Clad only in my bra, I help him strip out of his pants and down to his boxers. He takes me by the wrist. We tumble onto his bed. His sheets are silky and probably expensive, and I inhale deeply. They smell just like him. That turns me on almost as much as Bastian kissing me.

I perch on top of him, his cock rubbing against me. We both groan. His mouth travels downward, kissing me between my breasts. He shoves my bra straps down and pulls the cups away, not bothering to unhook the bra. I don’t mind. His mouth is too hot, too devastating, and he licks my nipples until I’m moving against him.

His hands wander, too, and when he realizes I’m bare from the waist down, he swears. His fingers delve between my legs, feeling my wetness and stroking through my folds. I shudder. I’m so ready, and he’s barely touched me. I rock against him, trying to find friction.

“Keep that up and we’ll be over before we’ve started,” he mutters in my ear.

I rock against him harder. His hands grip my hips, trying to still me.

“I need you inside me.” I’ve never said those words before, but the darkness makes me brave. And it’s true: I need him filling me, stretching me to the brim.

I help him out of his boxers and he rifles around in his drawer, looking for a condom. He swears when he can’t find one. I can’t help it—I giggle.

“What are you laughing about?” he growls. I can just make out the sheen of the foil packet in the light peeking through the edges of the curtains.

“I’m laughing at you. Now are you going to keep growling, or are you going to fuck me?”

Who is this person, I think, and what did she do with awkward Julia?

“Oh, I’m going to fuck you. Until you come all over my cock.” His words stroke against my skin; I shiver and tremble, heat blossoming through me.

He rolls the condom onto his cock, and I scoot up a little. I can feel him against my entrance, hard and hot. Taking him in my hand, I slowly guide him inside me, feeling a slight pinch. He’s so big, it’s almost unbearable—but in the best possible way. His hands are on my hips, letting me set the pace. Inch by inch, he fills me, until he’s completely inside.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. His fingers dig into my hips.

He’s leaned back into the pillows, and I place my hands on his shoulders for balance. Then I gingerly rock up, and then back again. Back and forth, his cock filling me. It feels almost like he’s growing harder and longer inside of me, and it sends a thrill down to my toes.

I’m going slowly, and I know it’s driving Bastian crazy. His hands are gripping me tighter and tighter, like he’s trying to remain still. I close my eyes. Cupping my breasts, I tweak my nipples, and it sends a burst of warmth straight to my sex.

“Are you touching yourself?” he growls.

I nod, moving faster now. I need more—more of everything. More of him inside me, more friction, more movement.

He covers my hands with his, playing with my breasts. He rolls each nipple between his fingers before pinching them. The bite of pain makes me moan out loud. Now I’m riding him, clutching at his shoulders.

“I’m so close, Bastian, so close.”

At that, his control snaps. He takes hold of me and starts fucking me so relentlessly that it’s as if I lose myself completely. All I know is Bastian: his hands, his mouth, his cock. He thrusts inside of me, and the noise of flesh against flesh only adds to how erotic this moment is.

Sweat drips down my body. I reach down and stroke my clit. Pleasure screams along every nerve as I touch myself. I can feel his cock brush against my fingers.

It’s too much. I can’t last a second longer.

“Come for me, Julia,” he says.

I do. My orgasm explodes within me, and I arch backward. I scream. I’m shaking and trembling and he’s still fucking me, milking every contraction. His cock still sheathed inside of me, it prolongs the pleasure until I’m drunk with it. I then feel him swear and he’s coming, too, and I don’t know how long I’m coming. It feels like eternity.

Remaining inside of me, Bastian pulls me down for a furious kiss. It’s messy and there’s teeth and tongue, but I kiss him just as hard. His hands cup my ass, still thrusting slowly inside of me, like he can’t stop himself. It sends little thrills of pleasure up my spine, extending what was already an explosive orgasm.

Eventually, I collapse against him. I’m exhausted, sore, and so well-pleasured I can’t even think straight. Bastian gently lifts me off of him, leaving to dispose of the condom before returning. He kisses me again, his fingers dancing through my throbbing sex.

“I wonder,” he says thoughtfully, “how many times can I make you come tonight?” His fingers slide through my wetness, brushing my oversensitive clit just barely. “Three times? Four? More than that?”

I want to tell him I’m too tired, but as he dips one finger inside of me, I realize that my body is his. I can’t say no; I don’t want to say no. So I kiss him and he fucks me with his fingers until I’m coming a second time, then a third, and then it all melts together into a dream of pure ecstasy.

I don’t know how much time passes. I can see a tiny bit of light peeking through the curtains, so I assume that dawn is near, but otherwise a week, a month, an eternity could have passed and I wouldn’t have noticed.

Curled next to Bastian with my head on his shoulder, I dance my fingers lightly across his chest as he strokes my arm. We’re quiet, just listening to each other breathe. After I came more times than I thought was possible, we both dozed off. Now we’re awake, but it’s a soft kind of awake, where we don’t have to be doing anything but lie next to each other.

It’s a lovely feeling, I have to admit.

Bastian curls a strand of my hair around his index finger. “Can I ask you something?” His voice rumbles, and I can feel the vibration in my hand that still lies on his chest.

“Go for it.” I’m not particularly awake for some in-depth conversation, but he can try if he wants.

“You’re so freaking talented. Forget that you obviously have skill with motorcycles; I can could tell from how you talked about music that it’s your passion. Why would you drop out of college and get a job handing out samples at a grocery store? I can’t figure it out.”

I stiffen. Out of all of the questions I expected, this one was not on the list. I realize that on the surface it doesn’t make sense. I had everything, didn’t I? A scholarship to attend college to earn my degree in musical composition, focusing specifically on guitar and singing. A part-time job waitressing to pay for living expenses not covered by the scholarship. I’d been so busy, but I’d loved college—the classes, my peers, even the dorm rooms—until I’d had to deal with him.

Professor Elliot Macintosh.

Professor and chair of the composition department. Award-winning musician whose works have been described as “brilliant” and “ravishing” and “potent.” The same professor who, after I refused to sleep with him, used the terms “pedestrian,” “unoriginal,” and “tepid” to describe my own musical talent. It had stung. I’d taken those words in, until I’d been suffocating with self-doubt. Yet I hadn’t given in to his bullying. At least, not until I’d heard the rumors that I’d attempted to exchange sex for a passing grade in his class…

I was shunned and treated like a leper. My fellow students. My other professors. They looked at me differently. Sneered at me, not always behind my back. Quite simply, I folded under the pressure. Filled with righteous anger, I quit school, telling myself I’d go back eventually. That I just needed a break first. Time to get my head on straight. Then my mom had gotten sick and I had more practical things to think about.

I mean, what was I really going to do with a music degree? Did I really think I had what it took to be a star?

Now, five years later, I’m still working at a grocery store handing out samples and for all I know, will be until I die.

My thoughts right now, though, are more along the lines of not telling Bastian any of this. What would he think of me being such a coward?

Turning away from him, I mutter into the darkness, “I just didn’t want to be in school anymore, okay? There’s nothing else to tell.”

Bastian goes quiet, and I want to believe he’s given up. Then he turns toward me, saying thoughtfully, “You work at a place like Cooper’s for years, as loyal as any employee, but decide to quit college just like that? I don’t understand.”

I don’t understand it, either. How did my life end up like this? I was supposed to graduate and become a professional musician, maybe record albums and go on tour.

“I was young and dumb,” I say shortly. “Now, are you going to keep grilling me?”

He laughs a little, stroking my arm again. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just so curious about you. You’re the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met.”

At that, I flip over to face him. I can just make out his expression in the darkness. “I’m the most interesting woman you’ve ever met? You’ve must have met a lot of really boring women.”

“Maybe. But there’s something about you…” He links our hands together, and I shiver a little. “You’re different,” he says, as if he’s confused by this realization.

I squeeze his hand. “I could’ve told you that. But now that you’ve decided to make this ‘ask uncomfortable questions’ hour, I have one for you.”

He waits, clearly unaware of what I have in mind.

“What’s up with the dick pics online?”

He coughs suddenly, and I pat him on the back. Then he sighs, long and loud.

“You found those, did you?” he asks, resigned.

“Yep, and I was at a coffee shop, so you can imagine how everyone there thought I was a creep. You don’t seem like a naked photos kind of guy.” I know I’m pressing, but in this case? Tit for tat.

“I’m not. But I used to be not a nice guy.” I can see him wince. “My lawyers are still sending cease and desist letters to sites hosting the photos, but I guess they just keep popping up.”

I think of the photos, how sexy and intense Bastian looked. Not to mention how nice his cock looked.

I reach down, lightly massaging him through the sheet. “I’m just glad the photos didn’t lie,” I say in a low voice.

He lets me fondle him for five more seconds before he growls and flips me onto my back, then kisses me until I gasp and surrender.