Fifteen
Monroe
BLEND: The process of combining two or more grape varieties to form a single wine
“I would askyou who that old guy on the wall is, but I’m much more interested in getting your clothes off.”
Charles Dickens stares on impassively while Julien pants underneath me, lying stretched out on my couch as I straddle his thighs. My shirt’s already pushed up over my bra, and I’ve managed to get his belt undone, but we’re going to need to find something with a greater surface area if we want to take this further.
“Do you want to go to my—”
“That’s a nice carpet,” he interrupts, jerking his chin at the fuzzy rug on the floor. “It would look nicer with you on it.”
I shriek as he somehow smoothly manoeuvres us both onto the floor, capturing my mouth with his as his body presses mine into the ground. My thighs part to let him rest between them.
It’s still not a great position for getting our clothes off, but there’s a primal urgency to being on the floor like this that stops me from suggesting my bedroom again.
Julien’s mouth travels from my lips to my neck, teasing me with soft, barely-there brushes of contact interrupted by quick grazes of his teeth that have me digging my heels into his ass and clawing at the back of his shirt. He doesn’t pick up the pace, doesn’t do anything more than let his lips wander closer to my collarbone. I start to squirm, gasping and panting as the pressure inside me builds.
I’ve never heard of a neckgasm before, but Julien Valois might be about to make that a thing.
“Please,” I beg, not even sure what I’m asking for. “Please.”
I feel him smile against my skin. It’s a dangerous smile.
“Please, what?Qu’est-ce que tu veux, chérie?”
What do you want?
“I...I...”
He keeps nipping at the delicate skin stretched taut over my collarbones and then presses a kiss to the hollow at the base of my throat. His mouth is hot and hungry. It’s making me dizzy.
“Qu’est-ce que tu veux?”
The question rumbles against me, through me, the sound of it scattering across my skin.
“I want...I just want to let go.”
The answer emerges from some hidden room I don’t remember giving him the key for. He’s unlocked it all the same. I cling to him even as I ask for my freedom. It’s nothimthat I want to let go of; it’s everything that’s working to pull me away.
“I want to let go of it all. I just want this. Just this.” My chest is heaving beneath him as he moves his lips to my ear, teasing with faint touches and warm breath until he suddenly nips at my earlobe and then starts to suck. My body jerks on the carpet.
“Make me forget,” I beg. “Make me forget everything else.”
I almost cry out at the loss of contact when he shifts himself backwards until he’s resting on his knees. He grabs me under my arms and pulls me up just long enough to strip my shirt and bra off with deft hands before he’s slamming me back onto the carpet again. He makes quick work of my jeans, and in a matter of seconds I’m totally naked, completely exposed to him on my living room floor.
He pulls his shirt over his head, and the stretch and flex of his muscles is hypnotic. I didn’t know I had a thing for chest hair until the first time I saw him naked, but I totally do.
“Spread your legs wider,” he orders, and my knees snap away from each other of their own volition before I can think to feel embarrassed. It’s hard to feel anything other than awestruck as he takes the sight of me in. I’m so wet I know he must be able to see it. I watch him run a thumb along his bottom lip, something dark and hot like embers slipping into his eyes.
He places his hands on my knees, somehow making even that feel erotic as he strokes and caresses while forcing them farther apart. He rubs the outsides of my thighs before moving back up over my knees and down my shins. I shiver.
Neckgasms. Leg-gasms. Is there anything not within this man’s power?
He lowers himself down on the carpet. I whimper in anticipation when he starts to kiss my stomach.
“Only this,” he murmurs. “Only me.”
