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His words send a jolt of tantalizing delight across my nerves. My core throbs, aching for contact, and I can already feel my arousal beginning to pool between my thighs.
Without a word, I pull myself up and position myself above him. Julian latches onto my hips as I align his cock with my entrance. Like a man crazed with need, he slams me down onto him in one hard motion, drawing a euphoric cry from me.
“Ah,” Julian groans as I stretch around him, adjusting. He fills me so deeply in this position, already pressing against my g-spot without the need to thrust. It’s an exquisite feeling, almost electric, and I have to take a moment to steady myself.
Julian waits patiently, letting me catch my breath despite how frantic he was just seconds ago. His fingers dance across my thighs as he slowly begins to rock his hips beneath me.
“Enjoying yourself”? He teases.
Instead of words, my answer comes in the form of a moan, my body responding to the delicious friction. I mirror his pace, lifting myself up and down, grinding forward and back, finding the pattern that draws the best reactions from him.
I lean down for another kiss, sliding my fingers into his hair and tugging gently. This kiss speaks of need, of a thirst only he can quench. His hands cup my ass possessively as he nips at my lower lip, making me feel equally desired, and the thought only makes me want more of him.
“Have I ever told you that you're beautiful?” I ask, my fingers tracing the patterns of ink as I press myself back up.
I'm not sure if the flush on Julian's cheeks is from my words or his arousal, but I revel in it, finding myself growing dizzy with the intense sensation of riding him like this.
Julian's hands are deliberate as they rove over my body, appreciating every inch of skin they can reach. “You've got it backwards,” he murmurs, his voice strained with his own pleasure.
Suddenly, Julian increases the pace, guiding me to thrust down on him with urgency. His movements are confident, dominant even in this position, and yet there's a tenderness in his control; a protective quality that makes me feel safe and cherished even as our passions spiral higher.
My breaths come shorter as my heart rate skyrockets, my arousal peaking. I can feel myself beginning to come undone around him, my body pulsing as the muscles of my core tighten, desperate for the impending release.
Julian's jaw clenches as my thighs squeeze his hips, and then it hits—an explosion of fire that burns white hot through every fiber of my being. An all-consuming heat, an unbridled ecstasy that carries Julian to his own orgasm. He fills me with warmth, spilling inside of me and leaking down my thighs, and time seems to stretch and bend around us, the outside world fading to nothing as we’re stripped down to pure feeling.
And then, as the world sharpens again in the aftermath, Julian eases me down beside him on the bed. His movements are slow, almost reverent as he gathers me against his side. I curl into him, my head resting against his chest where I can hear the steady beat of his heart—a reassuring rhythm that anchors me.
His arm wraps securely around me, his hand stroking my back in a gentle rhythm that soothes and expresses the depth of his feeling. In this quiet afterglow, I feel safe, cared for, loved. The warmth of his body is a balm, healing the splintered edges of my heart that has been hurt so many times before.
Here, with Julian, I find a sanctuary not just from the world but from my own swirling thoughts and fears.
All at once, I am overwhelmed by a sense of completeness. I am home.
Then, the sharp ring of Julian’s phone cuts through the tranquility, painfully pulling us back to reality, to the world that exists outside of our little sanctuary. Julian’s body tenses beside me, and with an irritated sigh, he rolls out of bed, searching for his phone in his jeans. He takes one glance at the caller ID before rejecting the call.
Tossing the phone onto the nightstand, he makes his way back to me. His arm slides effortlessly beneath my head, wrapping around me, pulling me close as if to physically hold the outside world at bay.
Just as his lips brush mine with an almost painful gentleness, his phone rings again. The persistence of a second call feels ominous, and a serious pall settles over us. I can sense Julian's reluctance as he pulls away, his expression shifting from annoyance to concern.
“I’m sorry angel, I need to take this,” he murmurs, kissing my forehead quickly before slipping out of bed. He grabs the phone and steps into the hallway, leaving the bedroom door slightly ajar behind him.
From the bed, I can hear the muffled tones of his voice but can't make out the words. My heart starts to race, each unintelligible murmur from the hallway amplifying my anxiety. The warm cocoon of the bed no longer feels comforting; it feels isolating as I strain to hear any clue, any word that might explain what’s happening.
“Julian?” I call out tentatively after a minute that feels like an eternity. There’s no response, and the one-sided conversation in the hallway continues—a bad sign. I sit up in the bed, drawing the blanket close around me and hugging my knees to my chest.
Finally, after several long, heart-pounding minutes, Julian reappears in the doorway. His face is grave, the easy relaxation that had defined our afternoon completely erased. He looks at me, and I can read the apology in his eyes before he even speaks.
“We need to go back,” he says, his voice steady but his eyes revealing the seriousness of whatever news he just received. “It’s urgent.”
The finality in his tone leaves no room for questions, not yet. I nod, pushing the blanket back and swinging my legs out of bed, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the room. Whatever bubble we had been in has burst, the real world rushing in, demanding our attention.
“Aria?” I ask. “Is she?—”
“Aria’s fine,” Julian’s response is quick, a dismissal, but I’m relieved all the same. I barely know the girl, but I would lose it if something happened to her. And Julian… he’d never forgive himself.
As I hurriedly dress, my mind races with other possibilities, each more worrying than the last. Julian is on his phone again, speaking in quick, clipped tones as he coordinates what I assume are our rapid departure arrangements.
As we pack up our few belongings and prepare to leave the cabin, disappointment and anxiety battle each other for control in my mind.
