Page 140 of Only With You

Neither one of us says anything as I lower her until her warm, wet cunt glides against my length.

I stifle a groan, clenching my jaw when she slowly rocks her hips forward. “Julianna.”

It’s meant to come out as a warning, but it sounds more like a desperate plea for more.

A haughty smirk tips her lips because she knows she’s going to get her way.

“Fucking brat,” I grunt, pinning her against the wall and pulling back, fisting my cock to align myself at her entrance. “I won’t be gentle,” I warn her as I tease her clit with my tip and then drag it down to where she wants it the most.

“I know,” she whimpers, dropping her back, and her breasts softly bounce.

My dick throbs at the sight, and I thrust hard inside of her.

I think I made a mistake.

It seemed right at that moment. No, it wasn’t just right, it was something I was completely and entirely sure of. But now as I stand in front of the counter, staring at an empty bowl, I think I got ahead of myself.

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, I brush my fingers along my chain, hoping that my galloping heartbeat and the tension that’s taken a hold of my chest will disappear. But when it doesn’t, I grip the counter until my knuckles turn white and let my head hang between my shoulders.

I thought the overwhelming sensation when I came was due to how intense I’d fucked Julianna. I thought that’s what it was, but after our shower, I still felt it. But it escalated when she started unpacking all her things.

I know I’m the one who invited her, pretty much forced her to come, and gave her no choice, but now that she’s finally here, in my safe space, with all her things, I don’t know what to think.

Drumming my anxious fingers along the counter, I blow out a weary breath and stand up straight.

What would Reid say about this?

He’d probably analyse the situation and say that I need to open up. I’m sure he’d say that I need to express myself, and not lock up whatever I’m feeling in the box I have buried deep in my brain because I’m uncomfortable.

During one of our sessions, he said I’ve suppressed my emotions after I opened up about Mum.

It’s not that I want to…I just need to box it all up, because sometimes it’s too much, and it makes me lose control of my feelings. It makes me lose control of myself and I don’t want to experience that again.

I don’t want to think of the what-ifs or the hypotheticals of my pathetic life because it happened; there’s no going back.

Sure, there’s a…bitterfeeling about how the two people I wanted most in my life didn’t want me. Sometimes, it feels more than bitter, but I try not to mull over it because it’s pointless.

Just like what I’m feeling is pointless and ridiculous. I asked her to stay, I wanted her to be here, and despite my heart feeling close to imploding, I won’t change my mind.

Pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose, I grab what I came to the kitchen for. While Julianna finished getting ready, I cleaned up the bed, and came downstairs for Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal and vanilla ice cream.

It’s my comfort snack.

The guys still aren’t here and I’m glad because I don’t need their inquisition. The last thing I want or need is to be bombarded with questions. I get that not too long ago I wanted nothing to do with her, but I can’t be arsed about how I felt for her in the past, because now all I’m focusing on is how I feel about her now.

The thought makes my heart race again, and before I slip back into my bedroom, I get my emotions under wraps.

When I step inside, I pause at the doorway as the sound of my own voice assaults me and I see Julianna holding my sheet music. I meant to put it up, but she happened, and became all I couldn’t stop thinking about.

She pivots to look at me, setting the paper down back down on my desk. “I wasn’t snooping. It fell when I set my stuff down, but did you compose that?”

I’ve never talked to anyone about my music, but as I stride toward her and hand her a bowl, I nod.

“Yeah, I wrote that, but I’m still working on it.”

Her eyebrows arch, not in shock but with reverence. “If you’re up for it, I’d love to hear it. When it’s done, but that is if you want, of course. No pressure.”

“You want to hear it?”

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