Page 133 of Only With You

“Where did you get that from?”

“Saint, and don’t worry about it. I promise he’s not going to miss it.” He has enough money to buy hundreds, thousands even. “So where do you want it?”

She thinks for a moment, scanning every corner of my room before she settles on the wall next to my piano.

“There. I think that would be a good spot, but if Saint comes looking for it, I’m pinning the blame on you.” She raises her hands in surrender. “I’m not taking blame for something going missing.”

There’s a touch of agitation in her voice along with dejection. I don’t want to pry, but I don’t like the thought of her being upset.

“Did something hap—” The rest of my words get caught in the back of my throat and my thoughts become nonexistent. My lips part and I can’t find myself able to close them or stop the blood from instantaneously rushing to my dick.

Julianna’s blazer lies neatly on my bed while she stands in nothing but pink lingerie that I recognize from the pictures she sent me and her black heels.

The lacy bra she’s wearing is transparent and tight around her heavy, supple breasts. Her nipples strain against the material and push her tits up, and they look like they’re going to spill out because there’s hardly any fabric covering them. The thin string of her thong sits above her hip bones. The fabric is also lacy and transparent, hardly covering her pussy.

As a perverse image conjures in my head, I have to adjust myself because my dick is painfully hard and throbs impatiently to be let out.

Julianna’s voice draws my attention back up, but it lands again on her chest. Fuck, she’s so hot.

“Since you seem to be so obsessed with me and everything I do, I thought I’d show you what I looked like with this on. Figured this would be better than the pictures.”

She stands there so…innocently, hands tucked behind her back, pushing her breasts out. She tenderly smiles at me like she doesn’tknowwhat she’s doing to me. But the look in her eyes is telling, her pupils are dilated, because she knows exactly what she’s doing. She knows how attractive she is and knows she has me at her mercy.

I can’t be arsed with a comeback, because my eyes are glued on her chest and I’m thinking about all of the inappropriate things I’d love to do to it. I wonder how she’d feel about getting tit-fucked. Goddamn, I need to fuck her now.

Cutting the space between us, I bring my hand over my head and pull my shirt off at the neck, letting it fall somewhere on the floor.

Her heated, lust-filled eyes wander over my chest and stomach, but I don’t give her a chance to roam over it anymore as I snuff any space between us. I pick her up, and she instinctively wraps her legs around me and circles her arms around my shoulders.

I capture her mouth and kiss her like my life depends on it. It’s punishing and I’d feel bad if she hadn’t moaned into my mouth and kissed me back with just as much force as her fingernails dig into my back.

I hiss and I’m certain she grins against my mouth.

Despite how submissive she is, she also likes the fight and I can’t deny how much I enjoy it.

But as much as I like this, I need more, I need to taste her. I set her to her feet and she puffs out breathlessly, staring at me disgruntled, with pouty red and swollen lips.

“Bed,” I order, but she’s not fast enough and my patience is thin, so I push her down and she falls back, breasts bouncing as she does.

She sits up, hands behind her back, bracing her weight on her palms. She peers up at me, cheeks flushed, and hair a little dishevelled. “What was that for?”

“No questions. Spread your legs,” I gruffly demand and kneel on the floor. I unfasten the button and pull my zipper down because my dick feels like it’s suffocating.

She narrows her eyes, but like the obedient girl that she is, she spreads them wide. I lick my lips, spotting the wet lace clinging to her, outlining her cunt.

“Don’t look at me like that.” I slap her pussy hard, and she gasps, jerking up, closing her legs in the process, but I spread them again.

She winces, face twisting in pain, but then shudders, her cheeks redden, and the lace becomes wetter.

“You like that, don’t you?”

Julianna stares at me with indifference and shrugs. “Stop playing games.”

I slap it again, not once this time, but twice. And I stare in awe at how responsive she is because she grows wetter. When I look up, she’s biting her bottom lip and fisting my sheets.

“Stop being a brat,” I grit, but instead of slapping her over the lace, I shove it to the side. Her pussy glistens, and as much as I like to appreciate it and eat the fuck out of her, I focus on the task at hand. I spread her lips apart, spit on her swollen clit, and slap it harder than before.

This time, she doesn’t hold back. Her head draws back, mouth parts in a perfect O, and the most euphoric sound leaves her lips, evoking those colours again.

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