Page 89 of Ella Gets the D
“No penetration.” A tender kiss connects with my inner thigh as he removes my heels. He cups my sex, careful not to enter me with his fingers but with enough pressure to edge me closer to an orgasm.
I’ve never wanted to yodel in my life, but the way my legs part readies the tremor in my vocal chords. An unsteady shout charges out of my throat and catches us both off guard.
“Don’t judge me; it’s been awhile,” I say, like my breathlessness isn’t a sign.
“No worries, baby.” A trace of laughter is in his voice. “I got you.” Julian’s mouth dips down to coax mine into a kiss.
“Why are you still dressed?” My tongue traces the outline of his lips.
He pulls back with a groan. “You ready for me?”
“Please.” He might’ve humped half of DC, but I have eight years on him. Not that I’ve been super active. Okay, I’ve only slept with two people, the first being a high school boyfriend who turned out to be an ass. Charles needs no explanation.
The point is, I can handle Julian. At least, that’s what I tell myself—until he’s head-to-toe naked.
You miss a lot of details when you don’t see a person in their full glory. Julian’s wide chest and broad shoulders draped in muscles are no secret. Neither are the hard lines in his abdomen that trail down to his sculpted thighs. What squeezes the airfrom my chest is the rod between his legs and the hardware glinting in the moonlight.
A metal barbell impales the head of his penis from top to bottom. It looks angry against the engorged flesh and has me second-guessing whether or not I’ll tear up my coochie rubbing on that thing.
“When—?” I sit up and scrub a hand over my face. Apparently, I forget how to breathe and process thoughts when I see a dick with a spike through it.
Julian’s laugh is strong enough to vibrate his six-pack. His length bobs in response, the edge of the silver ball hovering just below his belly button.
“Got it a few years ago. What’s the matter?” He gives himself a tug. “Scared?”
He can kindly go fuck himself and let me know how it goes. Julian thinks I’m playing, but I need a pep talk. Possibly a numbing cream.
“How come—”
“You didn’t see it the night we met?” His lips curl. “Airport security screenings are evasive enough without alerting them to my dick.”
And what a dick it is.
He strolls the rest of the way over and settles between my legs. The bottom of his piercing skims over my clit in a lazy thrust.Oh, this is nice.
“Stay put, baby.” His words are a murmur on my lips. “We’ll break the law if I poke you.”
Laughter bubbles between us. Adultery is still a Class 4 misdemeanor in Virginia, and penetrative sex earns me a scarlet letter until my divorce is final. Unless I want to roll the dice in court with a judge who might side with Charles and rule that his dick inside another woman was simply exercise.
I melt into the duvet and run my fingers up the forearms on either side of my face. I smile at the man who’s watching me like I’m enough and reach for his neck to capture his lips. He curls into me, igniting a passion that takes my breath away.
We succumb to our desires under the moon’s radiance filtering in through the window.
“You did not!”
My head falls back in a roar of laughter. Tears flow at the image of Julian hopping over a balcony and splitting his pants to evade another social event.
He grimaces with a deep chuckle. “A security guard tackled me on the back lawn. He thought I was there to crash the party.” His laugh is full. “I had on a tux, El.”
“Poor baby.” My teasing laughter becomes a shriek at his grab. “Stop! I’m ticklish!”
Julian’s fingers wiggle over my body in an assault that ends with a hand to my chin to take my mouth. I moan and wrap my arms around his athletic frame tangled in bedsheets.
We slept together. Not sexually, but in each other’s arms. Last night, I had more orgasms than I could count, and without sexual intercourse. Julian put the power drill between his legs to good use, sliding it back and forth over my clit until it cried out for release. Between the toys he used on every inch of my body and me making him nut with my hand, we both got a happy ending and a good night’s sleep.
Dog barks mix with neighbors greeting each other outside the bay window. It’s the perfect Sunday morning to stay under the covers.
The tips of our fingers thread our hands together as we lose time laughing, talking about our lives, and staying present in themoment. We already know a lot about each other, but we use every opportunity to dig below the surface.
