Page 34 of The Story of You

When he slides himself down my cock in one swift motion, it takes all my restraint to keep from crying out. I’m careful not to bite through my lip. It’s only just healed from the last time I bit through it.

That went over like a train wreck.

Julius is loud while he fucks himself on my cock. I suffer quietly, which only turns me on more. God, fuck. He knows how much I like a challenge. This is fucking challenging. Every slide, every squeeze, even his hot breath in my ear. None of it helps the orgasm that wants to pour forth. My nuts tighten and ache at the same time. The high of sex quickens my pulse. I’m too hot, his dick isn’t far enough in me, and I scrabble to hang onto him while not making a sound.

“Come with me, amore,” he whispers.

I don’t think, just obey. All I have to do is let go. I freeze, the paralysis of pleasure holding me midair, back arching off the bed until I stutter a long moan. My come fills him, and his spurts from his cock like a white-chocolate fountain.FuckI wanna taste him, but Sirs give you their come when they decide to. God, just the thought that he decides that has my softening member itching to rise again, but even my refractory period’s not that miraculous.

He falls on top of me and then rolls us to the side, burying his head into my neck. “You know I’d do anything to protect you, don’t you?” His voice is desperate.

“Juli?”

His strong ballerina-lifting hands dig into my arms. “You know … please tell me you know.”

“I know, Juli. Iknow. Now would you ease off? I love your marks, but Silas will murder you.” Dad won’t murder him. It will tear Silas apart. I think I’m getting a sense of why. Something happened when I was little. It’s as if he really is a mother harpy. We’re bonded in some other way, and I don’t know if there’s a name for it.

He sighs and relaxes. “Okay.”

Must have been my comment about going to battle for me stirring thoughts. “My ballerina knight.” I wink. “I love you, baby.”

“Love you too, amore.” We kiss. “Now, no more book today. I’m taking you out.”

“Are you sure we should do that?” I’m beginning to think I should just stay at the house. Our museum date did not go over so well.

“You promised me you would wear a parka.”

I laugh. “That was a joke. It’s almost June.” I wore the longest maxi dress I have—I’ve been living in them—and I paired it with wedges.Wedges!Wedges are cute at best, not sexy. “What are you thinking?”

“If it’s fair to tell you to put sweats on. I’m not sure I care.”

“It’s too hot for sweats. I think I have a pair of board shorts.”

“Your ass is gonna look good in those too.” He exhales a long breath. “I have to get used to how much people adore you.”

“Same. Just as many people are looking at your ass.”

We clean up and dress and make our way downstairs where people have gathered. Something is happening in the yard, and Silas is staring out the kitchen doors at the commotion. He looks like an eagle surveying his spread of land. Jarvis is next to him, his ears perked, ready for his master’s command. While Julius packs us food in a basket, I slide up to him and circle my arms around his torso. Last I read, Darry was gone. The emptiness has burrowed its way into me. Young Silas must have been scared.

His strong arms find me in a familiar motion, clipping me to his side. “Dad?”

“Supplies for the greenhouse. Wyatt had them delivered.” I feel his eyes raking over me as I stare at the ruckus. “Board shorts?”

“We’re going to the beach. I’m preventing violence.” I’m exaggerating. Julius won’t harm anyone, but hmmm … he would drag me back to the house caveman style, which would be hot. Maybe I’ll strip down to the speedo I’ve got on underneath when I want to come home.

“Why don’t I smell sunscreen?”

“We haven’t gotten that far. We’ve got a giant bottle of the non-toxic stuff.”

He nods and kisses the top of my head. “Okay.”

I don’t want to let him go yet so I don’t, sensing he needs me. It’s always been this way between us, but they weren’t things I noted, they merely were. I see them now; lots of little things I used to take for granted.

“This is a lot of ruckus for canned tomatoes,” he murmurs.

“I’m sorry. I can call it off.” This was my idea.

“No, I’m just … ignore me, Eaglet. I’m thinking of tiny Italian monsters.”