Page 61 of Hard Rock Muse
Then there was no more talking as clothes went flying and our mouths fused together.
Being with Julian was like nothing else. It was almost like the high I got from being on stage. I gave all of myself to the audience, and they gave themselves to me.
But with this, it was Julian and I coming together, sharing our bodies with each other, both giving and both taking.
He broke our kiss to attack my neck, no doubt leaving marks in his passion. He massaged my naked breasts with his hands, thumbs playing with my nipples. I writhed at the sensation as it went straight to my core.
I ran my hands from his shoulders, to his chest, to his torso. I wriggled down on the mattress until I could trace that tempting V of his hips. Then I went lower, until my fingers brushed a warm, hard length.
I wrapped my hand around him and he hissed with pleasure. I stroked once, twice, exploring the shape of him, the girth. He grunted with each stroke up and down, the wetness of his weeping head slicking up my hand.
My insides ached with every pulse and twitch of his cock, remembering the feel of him moving inside me, filling me, stretching me.
My desire for him spiked with a sudden need.
“Fuck me,” I gasped out loud. “Do it now.”
Julian growled. With no warning, he pushed two fingers into me, slippery and wet.
“Is this where you need me?” he rumbled low in his throat.
“Yes,” I groaned, bucking against his hand.
He increased the pace, adding a third finger, shoving in and out, until I was panting and squirming. He pulled out, making me moan, desperate for him. He grabbed my hips and in one smooth motion, turned me over on my stomach.
“On your knees.”
My inner walls clenched and throbbed at the order. I obeyed, tilting my hips until I was ass up, pulling a pillow to fit under my stomach.
He darted up to his nightstand and grabbed a foil packet, quickly rolling on protection. Then he was immediately on me, draped over my back. He sunk his teeth into the skin at the nape of my neck, making me gasp. He used his knees to nudge my thighs apart, baring me to him.
The head of his cock pressed against my entrance. He used his cock to draw a line up and down between my folds, teasing me.
I panted heavily and rotated my hips, pressing back to urge him on.
“Please,” I pleaded.
“Say it again,” he demanded.
“Fuck me!”
He thrusted forward. I whined, a long keening sound, then moaned loudly. He did it again, then again, in and out, a continuous push and pull.
My whole body began to quake as I squeezed and fluttered around him, milking his cock. His flared head scraped against the most perfect spot, sending sparks of pleasure across my vision.
“Oh god…” I whimpered, thrashing my head back and forth.
He used the flat of his palm to smack the curve of my ass. I gasped sharply at the echo of skin slapping skin, heat flooding my system. I always loved it when he did that. He hadn’t forgotten. He knew exactly how to play my body, as easily as he played his piano.
He pulled out and stayed there, nestled between my folds. My inner walls fluttered around nothing, feeling desolate and empty. I wiggled my hips, needy and wanton.
“Don’t stop,” I begged.
“Touch yourself.”
I brought a hand to my clit, rubbing furiously. He put just the tip in, giving me short, shallow thrusts.
“Julian…!” I cried out, feeling desperate and so, so close.
