Chasing Him - Kat T. Masen Page 0,34
he senses my frustration and smiles. “A little impatient, aren’t we?”
I squirm again and blurt out, “You’re killing me.”
The smirk on his face widens, but he doesn’t move an inch.
“I’m not kidding, and this is fucking unfair!”
He still doesn’t move an inch. I mean seriously, I’m a bomb ready to explode, one button, that’s all I am asking for here. There’s no change, and that bomb warns me it’s time to take matters into my own hands.
I pull my arms down and firmly grip his head, forcing his mouth between my legs, and the second his lips touch my sensitive spot, I let out the loudest groan, clutching his hair as my body threatens to give straight away.
A little longer, distract yourself. Quick, look around you!
Shampoo.
Soap.
Rainbows.
Rainbow showers.
Pee.
OMG, Eric!
Eww, gross.
A let out a huge relief as the thought of Eric is like a splash of cold water. I enjoy Julian devouring me, watching his tongue flick the tip of my clit. It’s insanely hot watching him at my command, and I’m lapping up the attention until I feel a finger slide within me, and I know I have zero control.
Game over.
The water is stifling hot now. My body tenses as my chest rises and falls, and I warn him only seconds before I’m seeing fucking fireworks. I feel myself contract, and the pleasure consumes all of me, gulping a whole heap of water as my dry mouth screams in ecstasy. He moves his body up, satisfied with himself, and suggests we hop out. My clothes lie wet in a heap on the bathroom floor, but I don’t care. I’m here with him.
We are entwined within each other as we lay contently in bed. My head is resting on his chest as I attempt to listen to his heartbeat. It’s strong, and I want to ask it if it beats for me.
“You’re too quiet,” he says, kissing the lobe of my ear.
“I’m thinking.”
“Wait. Stop the press. Adriana thinks quietly?”
I punch him in the chest.
“A little lower,” he instructs.
I punch him in the stomach.
“Lower,” he grumbles.
My hands move lower, accidentally grazing his hard-on. I’m no longer shy. I’ve become extremely comfortable with his body. With a tight grip, I begin to talk. “So, I have a question.”
He rolls his eyes and moves, so he is on top of me. “I haven’t fucked you. So, the question and answer portion are on hiatus until I’ve been inside you, you got me?”
I smile back, and he doesn’t pussyfoot around with foreplay, entering me whole as I sink beneath him. Every thrust, every push, he whispers how much he needs me, and I return the sentiment. Consumed with raw passion, I beg him not to stop, never to stop being inside me.
We lose all sense of time, clinging to each other, desperate for the intimate connection both of us crave. With our bodies in perfect sync, I beg him to come inside me, demand he explode around me, and when he does, I follow shortly after, collapsing beneath him as I’m short of breath.
He pulls me back into him, and I wrap his arms so tightly around me, ignoring our sweaty bodies.
“Can we stay like this?” I murmur.
He lets out a short laugh. “Change of heart from last night?”
I sink into him deeper, wanting him to protect me and not let me go. “I was a bitch. I felt so guilty, you know? It was our house. What if he was watching me?”
“You think he’s watching you?”
“I don’t know what to think. It just didn’t feel right, and I should’ve been more honest about my feelings rather than hurting you.”
“I agree, Adriana. I need to know what you’re thinking. You need to let me know when you’re uncomfortable.”
I smile in his arms. “So, about my question,” I ask again. “And I hear that eye rolling.”
He pulls me in deeper and places his hand on my breast in a non-sexual move.
“How do you feel about coming out to Charlie and Lex?”
Julian remains silent.
I give him a minute.
“Okay, I don’t like silence,” I complain.
“Adriana, it’s called a thought process.”
“Oh, bullcrap, you’re fabricating your thoughts. What was the first thing you thought?”
“First thing? I’m not ready. Like the first time you eat spaghetti after vomiting it.”
“What?” I laugh out loud.
“When I was five, I puked up spaghetti all over my bed. Couldn’t touch the stuff till I was sixteen, and even then, it was with fear and trepidation.”
My body moves up and down, laughing uncontrollably at his story. “Oh,