Chapter 52

Chapter 52

Poppy

I glance over my shoulder at Julian, a playful curiosity lighting my eyes. "Are you secretly a vampire because a vampire would sleep here?" I say as I look around Julian's room. It's dark, moody, and high-end.

He stifles a laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Oh, it's definitely a good thing. I was obsessed with 'Vampire Diaries' in high school," I confess, a nostalgic smile dancing on my lips.

His smile widens slowly, softening his features with genuine affection. "You know I love you, right?" He says.

"That probably makes you semi-certifiable because crazy only loves crazy," I reply, matching his grin. I never thought it was possible to be in a relationship that was not only healthy but also encouraging. Julian has never once tried to change me or grimaced at my comments.

I turn my gaze back to the room, my heart fluttering in my chest. The room boasts a massive king-sized bed, its fluffy comforter beckoning me with its promise of comfort. I have to anchor myself to the espresso-colored hardwood floor to resist the childish urge to leap into it. A thick, navy knit blanket is casually draped at the foot of the bed, and an artful arrangement of white pillows rests at the head, promising comfort and perhaps a bit of decadence. Suspended above each nightstand, golden round pendant lights cast a soft, ambient glow, their warm light complementing the room's deep hues.

A thick white and grey patterned area rug adds a touch of lightness to the space, its plush texture begging for bare feet. Off to one side, there's a cozy seating area furnished with caramel leather armchairs that look both vintage and impossibly chic, flanking a rustic wood coffee table adorned with a collection of art books and a sleek black vase.

"This is…" I search for impressive words that would make an SAT scorer proud, my eyes roaming over every meticulously chosen detail, "so palatial. It's like walking into a living, breathing magazine."

"Now I'm worried you're falling in love with my room more than you love me," Julian teases, his voice carrying a playful lilt.

"Never," I mock back, twisting and skipping to his side with a lighthearted grace. I cuddle into him, and his arm wraps around me like second nature, a gesture so fluid and familiar that it feels like we've been doing this dance for years. His presence, the warmth of his embrace, instantly grounds me, reminding me that while the room might be stunning, it's Julian who makes it feel like home.

"You can change anything you want," he says, a gentle openness in his tone.

I glance up at him, my curiosity piqued. Strangely, he doesn't care what his house looks like, whereas I can't wait to decorate mine and find my own personal style. That and Andrew had to control every aspect of our appearance.

"You don't care?"

He shrugs a tender seriousness in his gaze. "As long as you're happy."

"But this is your home," I stress.

"This is my house; the people inside of it make it my home. All I care about is my home, Pumpkin." His eye contact tethers my soul to his. "So go ahead and change what you want. I wantyou to be happy here. If you are happy, then I am." His arm pulls me tighter to him, a protective warmth in his embrace. "I want you so happy you never want to leave.You make this place my home."

That's a tidal wave of emotions I wasn't prepared for. Swept off my feet has a new definition after what Julian just declared.

"What if I want to paint the walls pink? You're giving a woman whom you know is a little eccentric free rein. I could turn this place into Barbie's dream house with nothing but pumpkin flavors in the kitchen," I joke, a playful challenge in my voice.

"You can paint the walls pink, Pumpkin," he starts, but a dark lust clouds his eyes, a smoldering intensity taking over. "You'd still be the hottest woman I've seen when I have you pressed up against those pink walls—well, buried deep inside of you."

Hold on, give me a second to reboot because his words just made my brain crash and my heart ignite.

I try to swallow, but my throat is too thick. It's like I accidentally gulped down a chunky knit sweater—itchy wool and all—and now have to resist the urge to cough it up in the least romantic way possible. The shock of his words leaves me fumbling for composure, like a cat trying to recover gracefully after missing a jump.

Julian, you make me a mess in the best way possible.

He nods and slowly steps closer. His hands go to my hips as he begins to guide me back—one step, two, three. My back gently presses against the navy wall, my breath hitching in anticipation.

Oh god! Why does it feel like my puss has a heartbeat of its own? It's frantically racing for Julian's touch.

"Pressed against it," he whispers, his voice a seductive murmur, then he lifts me. I yelp—not the most graceful sound—as my legs wrap around his hips. "Like this, but with me buried deep inside of you," he repeats, his tone dark and promising, sandwiching me between the wall and him. "For scientific purposes, let's test it out. You against the navy walls, just in case we paint them pink. This way, I'll have a comparison." His hardness presses against my core.

He sets me down momentarily, kneeling before me with a reverence that makes me feel like a queen. Slowly, his hands grasp the top of my pants. "I'm going to taste you, Poppy, then I'm going to make love to you against this wall, then on our bed," he instructs with a commanding tenderness.

I nod speech now beyond me.

He peels down my jeans and panties, removing them with careful urgency. His warm hand grabs my ankle, and at this point, my knees tremble as if caught in an earthquake. He lifts my leg, hitching it over his shoulder.

"But what if…" I whisper, a cascade of insecurities threatening to drown my desire.

He seems to know all my fears, raising a brow in a gesture that silences my doubts. "What if you stop worrying and just relax," he suggests, his hot breath caressing my skin, a prelude to the intensity to come. When he presses his mouth against me, I make a sound that's more shock than elegance. It's overwhelming, yet when his tongue slips over me, I reach out, grounding my fingers in his hair, seeking anchorage in the storm of sensations.

Julian kisses my sex with as much passion as he does my mouth, tasting, sucking, licking.

He pulls away with a grin, his lips glistening. "Jesus, you taste like heaven, Pumpkin," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust before he resumes his devoted worship.

At this point, I can no longer stand, overwhelmed by the crescendo of pleasure. I'm about to climax, fully supported by Julian's unwavering strength.

Is it bad that I'm about to come so quickly, or is it a testament to the skill of his tongue?

My vision narrows, sounds escape me, and then as if on cue, I'm enveloped in a burst of light and emotion. As I come crashing back to earth, Julian stands, lifting me in his arms, my back pressed against the wall once more. Then, I feel him, ready and insistent.

When did he get his pants off? I wonder, amazed at his multitasking skills.

With one firm thrust, he's deep within me. "Julian," I gasp, my eyes wide with a mixture of shock and pure desire. It hasn't slipped my notice that he's been pleasuring me first, not allowing me to reciprocate yet. It's as if the foreplay is his version of a therapy lesson for me, slowly erasing and undoing every wrong Andrew etched into my mind.

Julian's every touch, every movement, feels like a symphony playing just for me. It's got me longing to return the favor, to make him come with the same intensity and passion he's given me, making our connection even deeper.

"This is home. You, me deep inside of you. I love you, Poppy, and I'm going to keep you safe," he vows. Then, it's as if a more primal side of him emerges. He moves with a relentless rhythm, each thrust reaching places deep within me, places I hadn't known could hold such intense sensations. All I can do is feel the raw emotions he's conveying without words as he makes love to me with a passion that pins me to the wall.

My hands claw and cling to him, fingers pressing into his skin with a desperation that's sure to leave marks. His lips find my neck, biting gently before sucking the skin, marking me visibly as his.

"You'll come with me," he declares, a command that thrums with the power to sway my body to his will.

He shifts, finding a new angle that changes everything.

And that's it.

The end and the beginning of everything.

We spiral together, caught in a whirlwind of connections that transcends the physical.

Still holding me tight, he gently lowers us both to the floor. He lays me atop him, a gesture that keeps me enveloped in his warmth, still intimately joined with me. Our labored breaths mingle into a melody I wish I could replay on Spotify.

I lay my cheek against his chest, a wave of post-bliss clarity washing over me. "I didn't think it could ever be like this. Loving you is so easy."

Julian closes his eyes, looking utterly peaceful as he says, "That's how love should be. Unforced. Gentle yet passionate, confusing yet so simple."