Once we’re in the apartment, I dump our bags in the middle of the floor and take my gun from my waistband, making sure the space is clear. It takes me all of five seconds. The place is a studio apartment, and for a moment I wonder where we’re going to sleep. Maybe the chick who lives here is staying somewhere else at Elliot‘s request. I make a mental note to call him and find out what the deal is, but first, I need to chill for a minute, regroup. It all happened so quickly last night, the harried phone call telling us to get out, the frantic packing of the few things truly valuable to us. We don’t have much, because we’ve never had much, but we have a couple bags full of cash, plenty of credit cards in false names, and most importantly, we have each other. After I’m satisfied nobody is lurking in the closet or the bathroom, the only two places a person could reasonably hide, I tuck my gun back into my jeans and automatically reach for Julz. She’s gained a few pounds, looks much healthier now. There was a time when I was terrified she was going to fade away into nothing, into skin and bone. But she’s back. My Juliette is back, more beautiful than ever.
“I’m gonna pass out if I don’t take some layers off,” she says, pulling back from me and gesturing to her long sleeves and jeans. I’m the same, so hot I feel like my skull could explode. It was freezing cold when we left Colorado in the dead of the night, but New York is the polar opposite, muggy and still. I take another step back and take my hoodie off, watching as Juliette shimmies out of her jeans. A moment later, she’s wearing nothing except a sheer pair of panties and a gauzy, ivory-colored bra that leaves very, very little to my imagination.
Just watching her undress makes my cock hard, my eyes taking in every inch of her body as I shift slightly on my feet. She grabs a shirt from her bag and shakes it out, going to put it over her head. At the last minute I catch her wrist, a devious smile spreading across my face. She looks at my hand around her wrist, and then up at my face. I can already see her nipples peaking to hard points through her gauzy white bra, and my mouth waters in anticipation.
“Jason,” she cautions, but her tone is playful. Daring, almost.
“Juliette,” I reply. My dick is as hard as a rock, and all I want to do is sink it into her soft, wet pussy.
I tug on her wrist, pulling her closer so her straining tits are pressed up against my chest. I lean down and dart my tongue out, feeling her squirm as I lick over the thin material covering her nipple. I straighten again, sucking at the sensitive flesh at her neck as she writhes against my grip.
“We’re in somebody’s house,” she protests weakly. I ignore her, running one of my hands down her hip and into her sheer panties, my fingers finding her hard nub. “She’s not coming back until tonight,” I murmur, swirling my finger against her clit as I take her mouth with mine and kiss her roughly. She moans against my lips, and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to throw her against the couch and fuck her into oblivion.
I push further into her panties, my fingers finding her already wet for me. Un-fucking-believable. My dick is begging for release, especially with the new knowledge that Juliette is dripping wet and ready for me. I’m about to slide my fingers into her wetness when she pulls her wrist away and reaches for the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and over my head. Sweat glistens on my chest as she peels the cotton away from my skin—this city is as hot as a fucking furnace—but instead of trying to avoid it, she slides her hand down the middle of my slick chest as I slow-thrust two fingers into her soaking pussy.
She throws her head back, groaning my name. Jesus Christ. I’ll never get sick of hearing that on her mouth, of worshipping her body. I’m always careful with her, after everything that’s happened, never let myself go unless she begs me for it first. I like to fuck her hard and fast and brutal, but she has to ask for it first. Those are our rules. It doesn’t work any other way. In the beginning, after we’d first arrived in Colorado, I couldn’t even touch her, knowing all the things that had happened. The horrible, unspeakable things my father had done to her, all the ways he’d broken and scarred her, body and soul. It took us a long time to know each other again, to be able to trust. It took me a long time to trust myself around her, knowing the kind of man my father was. His dark legacy haunts me, but now, I finally feel like we’re starting to move away from the past and create something new, something that belongs only to us.
“Couch,” she says, the need in her voice irresistible. “Sit. Now.”
I slide my fingers from her and undo my jeans, using my free hand to pull my gun from my waistband and toss it on the small coffee table next to the couch. I do as I’m told, taking a step back and sitting on the couch, my dick straining against my boxers. I take it in my palm and coat it with her wetness, pumping with my hand a few times. Even that motion makes me want to come right now, but I know that this is only going to get better. Hotter. Wetter.
“Close your eyes,” Juliette says. Oh, fuck. I make sure the gun’s in easy reach and the front door in my line of sight, and then I allow my eyes to close. For a few seconds there’s nothing, and I wonder what she’s doing.
And then her sweet fucking mouth is on my dick.
Fuuuuuuuck.