Bastian

Going to Gary’s Pub usually means a cheap beer and fatty food served with a side of grease, and sometimes a man needs just that type of thing. Sitting down at my usual spot by the bar, I order a pale ale, sipping it as I watch the people around me.

I haven’t seen Julia since last weekend, but I’ve made certain to text her and call her every day since. It’s not like it’s been a burden; I wanted to talk to her. She’s a funny conversationalist, and more often than not, I’m laughing out loud at something she’s texted me. Suddenly, I’m like some teenage boy constantly waiting for his girlfriend to text. Hearing my phone sound sends a bolt of adrenaline straight through me.

I plan to ask Julia out to see a movie tomorrow night, but then I hear a voice—is that Julia herself? Excitement fills me, until I see who she’s with.

My client and thorn in my side, Ryland Masters.

They’re seated close together, and they’re obviously alone. Ryland leans close to her, asking her something. He gives her a plate of nachos, and then to top it all off, he puts his arm around her. Although she shrugs off his arm, she lets him feed her, like they’re some kind of couple.

At this point, I’m seething. Is Julia really out on a date with Ryland Masters? I don’t know if I’m angrier that she’s seeing my client or that she’s seeing someone other than me.

But I know the answer to that question. I can’t stand to see her with any other man.

Why would she agree to go on a date with Ryland unless she liked him? I clench my beer glass so hard the bartender gives me an eyebrow raise. Is she sleeping with him? The thought makes me nauseated. Images of her and Ryland fucking fill my brain, and it only makes me crazier.

I turn back to watch them. I can hear Ryland’s voice, but he’s turned away from me. But from where I’m sitting, he sounds pissed.

That’s it, I think. I’m going over there.

Approaching the pair, I ask in my calmest voice, “Is there a problem here?”

Ryland looks at me with such undisguised disgust that I almost laugh. Julia, though, looks frustrated and, dare I say? Guilty.

I have to talk to her. Now. Alone.

After a quick, sniping exchange with Ryland, I lead Julia into the back. I’m never like this with women—taking them by the wrist and dragging them somewhere—but I need to know what’s going on. Is she cheating on me?

She asked to keep things casual, my mind reminds me helpfully.

I know that. I know I’m being unreasonable. Pushy, bossy—an asshole. That doesn’t stop me, though.

I push her against the wall, and despite my best intentions, I get hard. I can’t help it; whenever I’m with her, I want her. She smells like flowers and I want to lick her from head to toe. Her cheeks are flushed with anger, and God almighty, I want to kiss her as much as I want to shake her.

She won’t answer my questions, though. Instead, she twines her arms around my neck like some seductive vine.

“Julia,” I say in warning, “you’re playing with fire.”

The next words out of her mouth snap my last ounce of control.

“Then I want to get burned,” she whispers.

I kiss her. I capture her mouth, clutching her to me. I tangle my hand in her hair, tipping her head back for more access. It’s a messy kiss, and there’s little finesse in it, but I don’t care. This isn’t about finesse. It’s about control. I want to mark her and make her know that she’s mine.

She doesn’t pull away. Instead she sifts her fingers through my hair, her breath hitching when I bite her shoulder. Sucking the skin, I make sure to leave a mark.

“You’re mine,” I say. “You’re mine, and I want everyone here to know it. I’m going to mark you and claim you and when you leave, everyone will see what I’ve done.” I’m talking crazy, I’m losing my mind, but I don’t care. And when Julia sobs out a moan? It ignites the flames even higher.

Looking around, I notice a supply closet not far from us. I wrench open the door, and luckily for us, it’s unlocked. I flip on the light overhead, which blinks a few times. The closet smells of mildew and bleach, and there’s a mop propped up against one of the shelves. I kick it away, lock the door, and kiss Julia again.

I back her up until her ass hits the shelves. Something falls off onto the floor, but neither of us cares. She’s gasping and moaning, and I rejoice in her surrender. I can’t be sorry for what I said. She’s mine, and she and everyone else is going to know it.

I kiss her between her cleavage, pinching a nipple hard through her shirt and bra. Her head goes back, her lashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks. As my right hand fondles her breast, my left delves downward, not even bothering to unbutton her pants. I find her sex, which is drenched and molten, and she soaks my hand. Cupping her, I stroke her sheath and play with her clit, kissing her and pinching her nipples with my other hand, with harder and harder pressure.

She squeals against my mouth. I shush her. I can feel her trembling, though, and I know she’s close. I want to be inside her when she comes.

I whirl her around. Pushing her torso downward, I’ve positioned her ass against my crotch now. It’s a delectable sight, those rounded globes pushed up against my hardened cock.

Julia rubs her ass against me, and now it’s my turn to groan. She looks over her shoulder at me.

“Fuck me, Bastian,” she whispers.

Who am I to argue with that? She unbuttons her jeans while I unzip mine, and then her panties are down by her ankles. I take my cock from my boxers, stroking it once, twice, just to take the edge off. A drop of fluid rolls down its length. Then I curse. Leaning down to rummage through my pants, I find my wallet and take out the single condom stored in there. Thank God I hadn’t run out!

I roll the condom down my cock and then, parting Julia’s legs, I watch as I feed my cock inside her sheath. She groans, and so I groan along with her. This position makes her feel even tighter than usual. She squeaks when I’m sheathed fully inside of her, my balls brushing her clit. Hands gripping her hips so tightly that I’m probably bruising her, I slowly pull out. I feel every inch of her, and she feels every inch of me.

“Bastian.” She looks at me over her shoulder again.

I slap one of her ass cheeks, and she shudders.

“Patience,” I say as I methodically thrust back inside of her.

I keep the rhythm measured and slow, building up her arousal until she’s gripping the shelf in front of her with clenched hands. Her ass is red from where I spanked it, and I watch as a bead of sweat trails down her back. I can’t help it: I lean down and lick it. She arches against my tongue.

I have to hold her up, she’s so desperate to come. But I won’t let her. Not yet. I want this to last as long as possible because being inside Julia is the closest I’ll ever come to paradise.

She begins to arch and wiggle and then she stands up, pressing my hands against her breasts and leaning against me. This new position only allows for shallow thrusting, but the new angle drives Julia wild. She bucks and gasps and I can feel her beginning to contract around my cock like a vise.

I pinch and roll her nipples between my fingers before trailing my right hand down her front. I part her folds and find her swollen clit and begin rubbing it in time with my fucking her. She leans back against me, breathing harder and harder. I rub her in circles, her wetness soaking my hand.

I thrust one more time—hard and as deep as I can—and she comes. She explodes in my arms, trembling and quivering and moaning so loudly I have to cover her mouth. But her orgasm causes mine, and then we’re coming together. I fill her up, spurt after spurt.

I kiss her neck, her shoulder, her ear. I don’t want to part from her. But I know she’s uncomfortable, so I pull out of her and let her go. She doesn’t move for a few moments, though. She’s still breathing hard, her entire body flushed from the exertion.

I’m sweaty and gasping for air, too. I pull the condom off and shove it into a trash can in the corner before getting dressed. Julia’s watching me now, her eyes wide, and I wince inwardly.

Did I hurt her? I wonder. She seems like she’s in shock, and it worries me. I take her hands and rub her fingers.

“Are you okay?” I ask, kissing her palms.

She just looks at me. Then she laughs, and I can relax. “I can barely move, that’s how I feel.” But she reaches down and pulls up her panties, blushing some more, before getting her jeans back on.

I’m searching around for my shoe, which I guess I kicked off, when Julia clears her throat. I glance up.

She’s not looking at me, and it freaks me out. Is she upset? I couldn’t bear it if I did something she didn’t like. She seemed like she was enjoying it, but did I misread her? Anxiety blossoms in my gut.

“I just wanted to tell you that I didn’t know I was going on a date with Ryland.”

I stare at her. Ryland? Why are we talking about Ryland? That seems like years ago now. Watching Julia, though, I can see she needs to explain.

“He made it sound like a group get-together, when obviously it wasn’t. I told him point blank that if I’d known, I wouldn’t have come. So, no, I didn’t sleep with him.”

When I don’t say anything—mostly because I’m not sure what to say—she asks, “You’re not mad, are you?”

I was mad, I’ll admit. I was crazy with jealousy, because the thought of Julia with anyone else was unbearable. Now I just shake my head and take her into my arms.

“No, I’m not mad. I’m sorry I was mad earlier, though. I had no right to talk to you like that.” I rub her back in soothing circles.

She sighs. “I should’ve explained right then, but you were pissing me off.”

I laugh. “I guess I deserved to be tormented.”

“You think? But believe me, I wasn’t on a date with Ryland. Or, I didn’t want to be. In fact, I was thinking about you the entire time.”

She isn’t looking at me, so I tip her chin up. The sincerity in her expression undoes me.

“Let’s get out of here,” I murmur, kissing her on the forehead.