Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Rosie

I coaxedJulian with everything I had. I wrapped my legs even tighter around his waist and ground against him, out of control. I was going insane with the need to feel him inside me. But he wouldn’t give it. I knew that. He’d meant what he said. So, I’d take what I was given, just as he told me to. And right now, I needed to feel him on my pussy – cunt – teasing my sweet spot the way he’d teased the rest of me.

I was naked and exposed, but it felt secondary to lust. My shyness was lost to the craziness as he brushed some stray hair from my face. He was still in his suit, composed over me. Such a contrast, it made me want him even more.

“Please,” I said. “Play with my cunt, Julian.”

It felt so strange to say that word, but he loved it. It made him smile.

I could have cried out in relief when he moved to my side and trailed his fingers down my stomach. My nipples were still bullet hard as I gripped the headboard, my legs spreading naturally as his hand kept on moving. I wondered if he’d go straight to my clit and have me coming in a flash – because I would do – but of course he didn’t. He pressed a finger on either side of my pussy lips and eased them open. Nakedness felt like nothing compared to the exposure I felt with my pussy spread for his stare.

“You have a such a pretty cunt,” he said. “Your slit is so wet. It would be so good to slide my fingers inside you.”

He pressed, just a touch, and I groaned, my pussy burning up.

“Do it,” I said, but he shook his head, a glint of a tease in his eyes.

“Like I said, you’re a long way off that, yet. This is all about your pleasure.”

I cried out as he pressed the base of his thumb hard against my clit. It sent off a spark that zipped right the way up to my nipples. I couldn’t stop myself squirming. A few circles of my own fingers and I’d be done for, over the edge in an instant. I knew he could do the same, but he didn’t. He kept the pressure on. Still and steady.

“Legs up,” he told me, and I raised them to my chest, letting my knees fall wide. I was lost to the shyness of everything now. I didn’t care how exposed I was. I knew he’d be able to see my asshole, and the wetness of my pussy, practically dripping.

He positioned himself between my legs, with his face up close between my thighs. When he pressed his thumb right back on my clit, I had to moan again. I could have tossed and turned, and squirmed against him, hypersensitive – and I would have done, if I wasn’t so desperate to do as he told me. I wanted to please him as much as he wanted to please me.

His tongue swept up between my pussy lips, lapping at me, but staying just clear of my clit. Every nerve ending in me was alight. I had to grip the headboard, my toes curling.

He did it over and over until I was panting, with my head turned to the side.

“PLEASE!” I said. “PLEASE!”

“Gently,” he said, and blew a breath on me, right there.

Fuck. I wasn’t sure whether I could stand it.

When the tip of Julian’s tongue finally touched my sweet spot, I cried out loud. When he circled me in tiny motions I was burning like the sun.

“That’s it,” he said, then circled some more, slowly. So fucking slowly. I cried out again when he pulled away enough to kiss the inside of my thigh.

“PLEASE! I need to come!”

“Feels nice to be strung so tightly on the edge, doesn’t it? I could keep you here like this all night long. It would be heaven.”

Even the thought made me squirm some more.

“Please, Julian! Please!”

I was delirious when he worked his tongue around my clit again. This time it was faster. I was bucking against him when he began to suck, blown to smithereens, because I had no idea how good clit play could be when it built up like this. I was making sounds I didn’t recognise, murmuring words that made no sense, and nothing mattered but the way his mouth felt on me. I reached the heights of a peak I didn’t know existed, pressing my heels to the bed to lift myself, pushing back against his mouth, and there was nothing but pleasure. Waves of pleasure on top of pleasure, until I was a panting wreck with ringing ears, and my pulse thudding in my temples.

I came more intensely than I’d have ever thought possible. My fumbles by myself at night had never come close.

I was still panting for breath as he raised himself onto his elbows, his lips glistening wet.

I didn’t have any holdups about kissing him when he climbed back on top of me. I loved every taste. Even though I knew nothing about sex in practice, my body knew what it needed to be doing. I felt the ridge of Julian’s cock through his trousers and made sure I worked it up and down my pussy – slit. He wanted it, too. His cock wanted to be inside me.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, but I wanted to tempt him. I wanted him to make me his.

I kept working myself against him, and he closed his eyes.

“Quite the little temptress,” he said, and I loved the way he breathed as he said it. I’d love to play with him, just like he’d played with me, but it seems he had other plans.

My tits were a whole other level of sensitive as he sucked on my nipples. My skin was damp with sweat as he made his way back down my body. My clit was still sparking, so tender that it made me flinch as he lapped at me, just once. He didn’t linger there, just kept on going down. He yanked me down the bed and pushed my legs up high, and I got a fresh bout of nerves, post orgasm. I knew he was staring at my asshole. My face must have been like beetroot, wondering if I was clean.

“Have you ever imagined how it would feel to take a cock in your ass?” he asked me.

“Yes. Plenty of times. Especially when I’m hearing it in audio,” I said.

“Really? And what else have you imagined? What do you think about when you play with your clit?” He kissed me, in my dirtiest spot. A hot kiss that felt so weird. “How about this?”

He kept probing, pushing the tip of his tongue against my ass. It made me whimper, too embarrassed to look at him.

He spotted that.

“I want your eyes on me,” he said. “You have nothing to be self-conscious about here. I want to know every single part of you. I love filthy secrets.” His laugh was dirty. “I love filthy everything.”

I didn’t doubt that. I wanted to taste it all with him. Everything he knew. Everything he could give. Everything he could show me.

“You haven’t answered my question.” He was staring up at me from between my legs, grinning over the hair of my pussy. “I asked you what you thought about when you played with your cunt at night.”

“You,” I said. “I think about you.”

“What about me? Do you imagine that I’m fucking you?”

His words had my clit tingling all over again.

“Yes,” I said, “I imagine that it’s your fingers playing with my cunt.”

He grinned at that. His eyes full of lust as he dropped back to my asshole and pushed his tongue inside and I squirmed for him, it felt so weirdly nice.

I couldn’t believe I had the man upstairs’ tongue digging into my asshole. He was the man from my fantasies, and here he was. It was a dream come to life, a high unknown to the lows of my past. I seriously could have pinched myself, but I didn’t want to waken from such a filthy dream.

He kissed and licked and probed my ass until I was building to a peak for a second time. His experience was so obvious when he read my body like a novel. As though I was the material of his profession, and he was the lecturer, right here with me. He brushed my clit as I began to rise again – a gentle tune. A skilled one.

The next orgasm came quickly. A harsh spike that had me wailing like a needy bitch. All it did was make him smile.

He played, and played, and played, until I was a sweaty, tingling wreck, still clutching at the headboard. My fingers were sore by the time he finally relented and laid at my side, lips puffy from all the pleasure he’d been giving me.

I considered trying to loosen his tie for a second time, but he didn’t give me the chance to. He got up from the bed and held out a hand. I took it and got to my feet, my legs aching.

“I think you need a drink,” he said, and he was right about that. My throat was parched. “Wouldn’t want you to get cold,” he said as we passed his wardrobe. He took a shirt off a hanger. “I’d prefer you naked, of course, but I’m not sure the temperature would be that kind. The heating isn’t exactly up to par in this place.”

It was another hint as to the past he’d arrived from.

“Thanks,” I said, and slipped his shirt over my head. I loved the way it smelt of his fabric softener.

He was straight through to the kitchen.

“Tea, coffee, water, orange juice, cordial?” He smirked at me. “Whisky?”

I laughed. “Orange juice, please. Then who knows? Maybe a whisky to follow.”

“Adventurous, are you?”

“Sometimes.”

I was bouncing on the bubble of fantasy, my body still possessed by the dirty attention I’d received at the hands of a man like Julian. A man I’d never have expected to have met, let alone have sex with.

I prayed that would happen soon.

I wanted more than anything to have sex with Julian. I wanted his cock to be the one inside me for the very first time.

He handed over my orange juice and got one for himself. We stood in silence, both of us sipping, not quite sure what to say. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. It never was.

I opted for humour, nodding my head towards his suit.

“Do you ever take that off?”

He laughed, looking down at his glass. “Occasionally. Luckily, I have more than one.”

“I know,” I said. “I saw them.”

“I don’t do much variety these days.”

I looked him dead on. “How come?”

It was a precursor to a much deeper set of questions, and he knew it.

“My past is quite a murky area. I don’t think you want to go there. I certainly don’t.”

He was wrong, though. I did want to go there. I wanted to know Julian as well as he knew every part of my body.

My confidence was definitely growing, possibly an orgasm high.

“How come you ended up here?” I asked him. “Seriously.”

“As I said, I have a very murky past.”

I took his wrist as he made to walk past me.

“You just licked my ass, Julian. You can tell me a few of your secrets, don’t you think?”

His eyes were still so dark as they sparkled.

“Is this a bartering service? You’ve licked my ass, so tell me why you fucked your family over and destroyed their lives?”

Ouch. His words knocked me back. I let go of his wrist.

“There you go,” he said. “Not all that pleasant, is it?”

I followed him into the living room, sitting next to him on the sofa. He placed his orange juice on the coffee table, but took a whisky bottle from down the side. He swigged a shot back before offering it to me. I shook my head.

“I’m still married, Rosie. On paper, anyway. I have, had, a family, back in Oxford.”

The thought was surprisingly weird, like it punched me. I felt bizarrely jealous.

“You’re married?”

“Indeed, yes. My wedding ring is in the bedside drawer. I’m surprised you haven’t found it yet, considering you managed to locate the stash of filth in my wardrobe.”

The heat bloomed on my face.

“No. I haven’t looked in your bedside drawer.”

“Ah, ok,” he told me. “Well, as I said. You’d find my wedding ring in there if you did.”

Sometimes it’s the weirdest questions that come into your head.

“What’s her name?”

“Sorry?”

“Your wife. What’s her name?”

He half shrugged. “Katreya.”

“How old is she?”

He didn’t hesitate in answering this time.

“Forty-seven. There are just shy of two years between us. We got married when she was twenty-one.”

I got another pang. There were twenty-nine years between us. Me and his wife.

“Want some more of my history?” Julian asked, with a scoff. Not malicious. “My daughter, Grace, is twenty-five years old, and my son, Ryan, is twenty-two. Ryan still lives at home with Katreya. Or he did the last time I saw him.”

That pang hit even harder. Two kids, both older than me. It put things into perspective.

“I have a granddaughter, too,” he continued, to slam it home further. “Emily is two. She’s a little sweetheart.”

He watched me watching him before he continued.

“How are you feeling now? Do you want me to keep going?”

“I don’t know.”

He laughed in sad humour.

“This is quite a downturn in conversation, isn’t it? We should be flying high.”

I had to laugh at that. “Maybe I should have some of that whisky.”

He flashed me a grin as he handed the bottle over. I’d only been half serious, but I took a tiny gulp anyway. It was horrible. I pulled a face.

“Not much of a drinker?” he asked and I shook my head, handing him the bottle back.

“No. My mum was when I was younger. Kind of put me off.”

“I can imagine. I hid my addiction for many years. I used to bury my whisky in my desk drawer, behind a load of curriculum paperwork. Nasty.”

Addiction.

“Yes, I’m an alcoholic,” Julian said, reading my eyes. “Sometimes I fool myself that I’m over it, other times I’m not so deluded. I’ve heard many opinions as to the cause, whether it’s some kind of repressed trauma, or a genetic predisposition. An illness. An effect the substance has on the body. Escapism.” He paused. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t make any difference. I’m an alcoholic.”

I felt like I was looking straight into his soul, but I didn’t see weakness there. I saw honesty.

My next question was so stupid I should’ve cringed.

“Have you tried to give it up?”

He didn’t look at me like I was an idiot for asking.

“Yes. Many times. Not least at the points when I had Katreya screaming and crying in my face, blaming everything in the world on the fact that I’d been downing shots. Some of it likely true, of course, but it becomes an easy scapegoat. She found it a lot easier to point fingers at my drinking problems than she ever did to try a little bit of self-reflection as to her own part in our difficulties. As I said, I’m sure a lot of her arguments were very true, but not every single one of them. Still, that’s no longer a relevant concern.”

I plucked up the confidence to keep digging.

“Is that why you split up? Is that why your family broke down? Because of the drinking?”

“We didn’t split up, and that isn’t what broke the family down,” he said. “I packed up and moved away because I was cast aside and disowned, and rightly so.”

Again, I was surprised at his honesty.

“Say it.” He laughed a sad laugh. “Ask the question. I know you want to ask it. The infamous three letter word. Why. Keep on digging, Rosie.”

“Ok, cool. So, why did you pack up and move away? Why were you disowned?”

His eyes bored deep into mine.

“Because of the pictures you saw in the wardrobe drawer. Addiction to alcohol isn’t the only one I have. I’m addicted to sex, too.”

I reeled at that, struggling to comprehend it. My mind was whirring, and he nodded as he saw.

“The girl in the photos is one of my daughter’s friends. Her name is Maisie. She was the first girl I fucked outside of my marriage. She was nineteen years old.”

I didn’t know what to say, just listened as he kept on talking.

“The shock and the thrill of fucking her kept my urges at bay for a considerable amount of time after that. I’d say maybe six months. The next girl was Serena. A friend of Grace’s from gym class. Grace was doing gym right the way up until university. Her friend Serena was very… flexible.”

My skin was still prickling with want for him, despite his words. If he was trying to shock me into revulsion, it wouldn’t work. I was far too caught up in him.

“Serena opened up a new perspective for me,” he said. “I began to notice the flirtatious glances I was getting during my lectures. A lot of girls like professors. It gave me an unfair advantage when it came to fucking them.”

I reached back over for the whisky, braving another shot, despite the fact it tasted gross.

“I have fucked an awful lot of girls,” Julian said. “It was only a matter of time before Katreya found out. Secrets can’t stay hidden for ever.”

“A lot of guys cheat,” I said, as a ridiculous attempt at playing it down.

“I’m an adulterer. I committed to my wife in holy matrimony, and that deserves the honour I promised her.”

“So, you cheated on her? Just like that? Because your daughter had a hot friend? And then what? You became addicted to it?”

“That’s one angle,” he said. “In truth, I should have left my wife a lot sooner. She would have said the same if she hadn’t felt so betrayed. I once overheard her talking to friends about it in our living room, when she thought I was downing whisky upstairs in the office. She was laughing about it. About how it would never have lasted if she hadn’t been pregnant so young. She called me a filthy pervert and said she’d not been finding me attractive for a long, long time. It shouldn’t have surprised me. We were only fucking as a token gesture very occasionally at that point.”

“That must have hurt.”

“It did, yes. But on the hurt scale, I think Katreya’s hurt surpasses mine. I don’t think she’ll be sending me a sorry card.” He stared at the window. “If she knew where to send one, that is.”

“She doesn’t know where you are?”

He shook his head. “No. Nobody does. And they wouldn’t want to.”

I pulled my legs up under me on the sofa, feeling shit for digging.

“Like I told you,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d want to go there.”

In some ways I wished I hadn’t. I could have been cocooned in his arms, riding high on bliss.

His eyes met mine again.

“Katreya was cheating before I was, actually. A guy at Grace’s gym club when she was fourteen. An ex-Olympian. I don’t blame her, in all fairness. He was quite an athlete.”

He put his whisky bottle back down on the floor, opting for the orange juice from the coffee table instead.

“There is a reason divorce rates are so high,” he said. “Katreya and I got married under the tension of a positive pregnancy test, and our relationship ended in the shambles of a dead, sexless co-habitation. That with the addition of my role as a sex-addicted alcoholic, who has a craving for barely legal girls.”

I stared mute. Unsure what the hell to say.

He smirked at that, pointing over at the door.

“I’ll understand if you would prefer to stay at Trisha’s. Don’t worry, either way. I’ll still help you resolve the Scottie situation. Just make sure you don’t go back to the apartment.”

“No!” I said, right off the mark. “I want to stay here.”

“Even though you’ve just had my seedy mouth all over you? I’m not a good man, as you now well know.”

He was trying to put me off, but it wouldn’t work. His conscience could eat him up all he wanted, but it wouldn’t push me away. I was already in deep with him, a sex addict alcoholic or not. There was something brewing in me to match his honesty. My own tales wanted to show their faces and get a hearing from someone who was interested enough to listen. Not like the token school counsellors I’d had when I was thirteen, pretending they gave a shit in in my lunch hour for six weeks running – the allotted time. I couldn’t talk to Mum because she always took anything I ever wanted to say personally. She’d blame herself and cry over everything possible, and I’d feel like I’d hurt her. So, I kept it to myself. It was easier that way. Or so I thought until I was right here with Julian.

It put the state of my own hidden soul into perspective. I wanted someone who I could be myself with. Who I could speak the truth with. I didn’t want to move from Julian’s apartment. Ever. All I wanted was to be at his side.

At his side and in his bed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I told him, and took my own orange juice, downing it in one. “I’ll stay here as long as you’ll have me.”

“Really? As long as I’ll have you? That’s quite a statement, Rosie.”

“Really,” I said. “I feel safer here than I’ve ever felt in my life.”

He took a cigarette from a pack on the coffee table. “That’s an even greater statement.”

“I don’t care,” I told him. “It’s true. We can both do honesty. You’ve given me some of yours, so how about I give you some of mine?”

He didn’t flinch or look away. He met my eyes with a calmness that soothed my soul, giving me a glimpse of true, unbiased companionship for once in my life.

“I’m all ears,” he said.