Page 88 of Ella Gets the D
I took a break from the nightlife when I left for London last year because I’m sick of being the center of attention. Who I’m dating. Who I slept with. I didn’t expect to come back and fall for my sister’s best friend, but the more we got to know each other, the more I wanted to be around her and her kids.
We turn our heads toward the laughter from across the room at the start of “O.P.P.,” and I do a double take as Morgan raps the lyrics like she’s at a cypher. My sister. In couture. The guy she’s with peers down at her with fixed intrigue. His hands clench at his sides before he draws her to his front. It’s good to see my sister let loose, but I don’t want regret to be waiting for her in the morning.
My eyes shift to Ella, who knocks me breathless. I’ve seen her dance around the house and on camera countless times. But not in an almost backless dress that’s inching up her thighs, and not face down ass up, waving her cheeks like a flag.
“Forget I said anything. With that ass, I’d adopt her kids.” Antonio stands next to me and zeroes in on Erica twerking on her friends.
When exactly I left my barstool remains a mystery. My booty-bouncing housemate has my undivided attention, with every ounce of blood in my body headed straight for my dick. Ella isn’t the only one on the dance floor, but she’s the only woman I want to devour.
I’m halfway to her when Antonio shouts, “Good chat!” She’s so focused on throwing it back that it doesn’t register I’m behind her until her back presses against my bulge. Tension eases at the circles I rub into her hips before moving us to the beat.
“Hey.” The innocence in her voice is a front for the temptress who summoned me without so much as a glance. As a single mom with a demanding job, Ella doesn’t get many chances to let loose, and I cherish these moments that don’t require a device and high-speed internet.
With heels on, she’s a few inches taller than me. I don’t respond. I let my actions speak louder than my words by turning her to face me and draping her arms around my neck. The song is too fast to slow dance to, but I don’t care.
She swallows and takes in the calm that masks the beast I’m ready to unleash.
I make a mental note to ask Antonio to escort Morgan to her car and take Ella’s face in my hands. She releases a sharp breath when my thumb grazes her bottom lip. In the middle of a crowd oblivious to the connection pulling us together, I do what I’ve wanted to do since we danced under the stars Memorial Day weekend. I kiss her and whisper in her ear, “Let’s go home.”
Chapter 33
Ella
My text to Morgan on the ride home is the last contact we have with the outside world.
Home.
The shiver that four-letter word sent down my spine required one of those “Slippery when wet” signs above my vagina. Of all the days to not wear panties.
That word should terrify me, but it doesn’t. Julian’s townhouse feels like home with Jackson and Haile. Withhim. The memories we’ve made have so much love that I no longer question it. I embrace it with open arms instead of criticizing the perfect timeline that never existed.
Cool air presses to my skin when Julian opens my door. His firm grip is a reminder of the way he held me in place tonight. He hasn’t said a word since we left the bar, but based on the way his eyes sweep over my body, I’m in for a long night.
He anchors his hand to my back as we walk the short distance from his car to the door off the kitchen. His fingers shuffle over the keypad. At the click, he guides me with soft pressure from his hand that never leaves my back. Memories linger around everyedge of the counter as he removes my jacket to hang in the foyer with his. The absence of his touch and my lightheadedness from the tension that explodes between us hardens my nipples.
The soft steps of Julian’s bare feet and the heat radiating from the entryway alert me to his presence. He didn’t mince words when he said, “Let me have you,” on the field today. The man is here to collect.
Part of me wants to sprint around the side of the island and make a run for it. The hunger in his eyes is suffocating, but running is pointless. Between his rugby reflexes and the way he’s monitoring my movement, I don’t stand a chance.
Why would I run anyway? I’ve done enough of that, and I can’t suppress my feelings for him. I’m over fighting it and questioning why I deserve someone to treat me right.
So I take the first step toward him and smile when he closes the distance.
We stand in each other’s arms, our heads pressed together and our eyes closed. I bury my face against his throat and inhale into his protective embrace.
“You look beautiful tonight, sweetheart.” The softness in his tone is as tender as the forehead kiss that follows. “You’re always beautiful to me.” Another kiss.
His fingers slide over my shoulders, removing the straps of my dress in the process. Gentle eyes study my face and move down the swell of my breasts. He cups my bare cleavage and massages my nipples, releasing my hiss at the burst of pleasure. I tip my head back with a moan.
“Let me take care of you,” he says before his mouth covers a sensitive peak. My knees buckle at the flicker of his tongue.
“Julian.”
My breath is ragged when he takes the other nipple into his mouth. There’s no trace of restraint when he comes up for air and lifts me around his waist. Thick lips crush mine as hedeepens our kiss. He takes the stairs two at a time, his fingers digging into my flesh.
Not only can the man kiss, he can climb steps with me in his arms and his eyes closed.
My heart kicks up speed when we cross the threshold to the bedroom. The small nightlight next to the former location of Haile’s bed bathes the oversized duvet in a soft glow. Julian eases me to the center of the bed. His exploration of my thighs is a slow procession toward the swell of my hips.
