Leave the Night On Pt. 04

I snort at her silly joke. "He has a child, my dears. A child. A human being he's responsible for shaping so she can be an active member of this society. And I love kids, but I never had to be wholly responsible for one. I only look after them from 8 am to 2 pm. Plus, I'm an asshole! I curse a lot. I moan too loudly during sex. I'm stubborn and arrogant. I'm not a mother. What right do I have to barge into Hannah's life just because I can't get her father out of my mind? It's not simple. I'm in love with him, yes. He might like me, too, but ultimately, his love life is not his priority."

"So... you're what?" Cami prods. "Afraid of being a stepmom?"

"No!" I erupt. "I'm afraid of creating a mess in that family! I'm afraid of disrupting Hannah's upbringing when she's already been through her parents' divorce, her grandfather's death and her teacher dating her father will be the shit hitting the fan."

"You said Hannah likes you," Lil states, softly.

"She's also said she's in love with him," Cami blurts, because she won't let it slide. "Out loud."

I ignore my most obnoxious friend. "She likes Miss Jones. Her teacher," I return to Lil.

"Pearl."

Lil and I both start at my actual name leaving Camille's lips. I give her a weary frowned look. "What?"

Cami is all business. "Lil's argument still stands. You shouldn't be worrying about these things. Don't get me wrong here. I think it's incredible that you do. I'm certain Julian loves this empathetic side of you, but at the end of the day, that's his decision," she says, sounding every bit the Freud-y scholar she is. "If he lets you into his life, I'm sure he will do so having considered all these factors about his child. Put yourself out there and let him choose." Cami finishes her argument with a pointed arch of a blond eyebrow. "I mean, considering what I've seen when you two are together...I'd say he only looks that gooey when you're around him."

"You've barely seen him twice," I deadpan.

She grins, ever the smartass. "Just once is enough for observing eyes such as mine. I do study human behavior, you know."

"And human thoughts," Lil inserts.

I stare at my friends, at Cami and Lil, and for a moment I remember that Melanie lives here too. I feel a sting of guilt for forgetting about her. These two, though, they are here. They are always here for me. And they are right. "I'll talk to him," I say. "About everything. I promise."

"Are you going to tell him?" Lil asks.

"About his mother accosting me in the school's parking lot to say I'm unsuitable for her son?" I give her a wide-eyed dubious look. "I will not."

She shrugs. "Seems wise."

"I have an idea," Lil declares, green eyes shining with excitement.

"Share!" Cami presses her.

"Instead of going to his place next Friday," She says, eyes on me. "Invite him over. Ask him to have dinner with us!"

"You're kidding?" It's half a question, half sarcasm.

"Lil, you're a genius!" Cami says before jumping off her stool. Suddenly, I'm sandwiched between my two best friends and a cat.

Just as quickly as she hugged us, Cami pulls away. "Wait!" She announces, holding an expectant finger in the air. "Ask him for dinner this Friday because next Friday is mine."

"Oh, right. There's that," Lil says, remembering something.

"You darlings are hereby invited to our annual pre-holiday dinner," Cami proclaims. "I'm off to my dear old Paris in a week and that means we're having dinner next Friday." She makes a dramatic pause and flips her hair back. "Yes, Pearly, that means no dick for you. Next Friday is mine. You can live without him for a night, can't you?"

"For you I can," I say, looping an arm around each one of my girlfriends' necks, forcing them into another group hug. "I love you guys."

***

"JULIAN? YOU HOME?"

I set the takeout bag and the bottle of my favorite Merlot on the kitchen isle, looking around the seemingly empty house.

"Hellooo?!" I call again.

No answer.

It's Wednesday, an irregular night for our dinner dates. It is only by a very lucky convenience that I'm here tonight. As it happens, it's Karen's boyfriend's birthday and she's invited Hannah to join their celebration over pizza. With the house all to himself, Julian called me earlier today asking me over for what he called a naughty sleepover. So, obviously, here I am, fucking relived to know I'm not the only one craving more time together. The way things are progressing, two nights a week aren't enough to tamp down my hunger for him.

The house is eerily quiet, almost another world without Julian's bare feet dancing about on the hardwood floors or the clatter of spoons stirring pots here and there. His truck keys are on the isle, though, along with his wallet and his phone indicating he's around.

"Hello?!" I sneak a peek around the bend that leads into the hallway, calling out like that girl in horror movies who's about to be the first to die. "Anyooooone!"

"In here!" Comes his voice from the direction of his bedroom.

"I've brought food!" I yell back, entering the hallway.

"Come here!" he volleys.

Following his echoing voice, I come to a paralyzed stop by his bathroom's wide-open door.

He's in the shower.

The scene is my every dream come to technicolor reality. If someone were to make a movie out of my most secretive wet fantasies this would be it.

Julian is facing the white-titled-wall, gifting me with a privileged view of his back; An infiniteness of sun goldened skin glisteningly wet, capturing the bathroom's white lights. His head is tipped back, the water descending the valley of his spine down his ass and thighs.

The beauty of his masculinity is in the contrasting aspects of him. He has the body of a dancer. Strong and graceful. Lean and wiry. The muscles are taut, firm yet delicate and I can delineate every single shift and the stretching that pulls against tendons as he lifts an arm to rub a hand over his nape. The configuration of his shoulder blades changes, the broadness of his shoulders revealing itself as every muscle, big and small, is incited into action by the movements of arms working soap over his chest.

He's the most beautiful thing I've ever fucking seen.

I'm dying to touch him.

Leisurely, he turns, realigning his full front, offering me yet another sight that's going to haunt me into my wet, most delicious dreams. His coffee colored eyes fly open and, as soon as he registers me standing by his door, his mouth splits into pure smugness translated into smile. "Hi, My Pearl," he drawls.

"Hey," I manage to mumble.

"You're staring," he says, unable or unwilling to hide how much he likes my ogling.

"You're naked," I retort, bluntly. Dumbly, even. "It begs to be stared at."

He likes hearing this because it tugs on a corner of his mouth. He stills under the falling water, looking right at me, watching me leering. He's so comfortable, so at ease to the point of enjoyment while I catalog every soft line and sharp curve, committing it to memory.

"I thought you weren't here yet," I say, my voice cracking slightly.

That perpetual tiny smile broadens in his face. "I had an emergency call," he explains.

"What happened?"

"My neighbor's heifer."

My arrogant left-eyebrow rises all on its own. "Let me guess: you had to stick your arm inside a cow."

Again, my chest inflates, squeezing my heart when he lets out a tiny chuckle. "The calf was in the wrong position. All topsy-turvy. I had to get him right and get him out before he died and killed his mother too."

While he talks, water is pooling in the hollow of his collarbones, creating ever-spilling fountains from each I could drink until I drown.

I clear my throat. With Herculean effort, I move my gaze up to his. "Did you save them both?"

"Yes."

"Good." My attention slips off his eyes again.

His hair, a black so beautiful it shines blue like the feathers on a blackbird's wings, is oily dark now it's wet. Slicked back, it relinquishes more space to the lines of his handsome face. From the moment I first saw him, the contrasting sharpness of the bones with the soft rounded quality of his features has fascinated me.

Deliberately, I let my gaze wander over him. And down. He is a work of art of a man. The lines of his body are perfectly sculpted. His skin is smooth, on the lighter side of tanned, and the absence of chest hair accentuates the definition of his pectorals, the narrowing path of muscle that vees down to his groin.

It is borderline magical to watch his arousal manifesting. His erection growing, twitching then progressively hardening, standing up near his navel. I'm hypnotized by it.

"Tell me what you're thinking." His voice is gravelly uttering a sharp command.

He knows my thoughts very well.

We're both revisiting the same memory. That day our roles were reversed; I was the one wet and he was the one watching.

"I can't think," I confess, unable to tear my eyes from his hardening dick. "My head is full of this scene. No space for thoughts".

"You are welcome to join me."

"That'd be like stepping into a black hole. I'd never get out."

"It might be fun, though."

I swallow so hard my gulp is audible. "I'll get sucked in."

"In my opinion, getting sucked is never a bad thing," he says this with his typical cheekiness.

"I shouldn't," I murmur, weakly.

"Oh, My Pearl, you don't want to miss out on all of this." His hand travels down his abdomen, his mouth stuck between a smirk and a full-on laughter. "You'll be sorry if you don't join me. Believe me. I know."

It takes me a few seconds to speak up. I'm too busy being awed by the fact his hand is full of himself. His hands that are divinely beautiful, calloused andbig.

"Do you? I enquire, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to contain my pounding heart.

Suddenly, his eyes darken, becoming intense. "I'm always thinking of you touching yourself in here." His fist moves, down, up. His own caress lends his voice a deep throated sound. "I should've joined you that day."

"Why didn't you?" It's almost a whimper.

"I would've lost myself in you," he says, fist working his shaft slowly.

I would've lost myself in you.

I pretend to be unaffected. "Stop wiggling this thing. You won't tempt me."

"I think I can," he says with that crisp smugness he wears as a second skin.

I betray myself by being attracted to the rolling rhythm of his wrist pumping his dick. I'm enthralled by the head disappearing inside his hand as he works it up his shaft, and appearing again as he brings his hand down his length.

Yes, he's right. He sure can tempt me. I feel the slick, hot moisture that seeps out of me and pools on my underwear. It's so much, embarrassment latches its talons to my neck. I'm painfully aware of the seam of my jeans right in between my legs, chafing the wet puff of my clit.

"Get in here with me, My Pearl," he orders.

I hold Julian's gaze wondering if he's aware of how dominant he sounds. It turns me on so hard, I can't move. I don't move. My breathing is out of pace. Julian sees how I tremble with every exhale because I'm powerless to remove my eyes from him. His invitation is simple enough, and yet...it feels enormous. There will be no stepping back after this. I just know it.

When I don't respond to him, he arches one charcoal black eyebrow, dropping his dick from his hand. "You either get in here of your own volition or I will go get you, My Pearl."

I cock my head, lick my lips lasciviously slowly. "That a threat?"

"I have shower fetishes because of you," he says. "You have a moral responsibility with my sexual fantasies now."

I shrug, nonchalantly. "You can jerk it off."

"Or you can suck me off," he retorts, putting one foot ahead, out of the shower box. His stance is beautiful, muscles locked in anticipation, eyes blazing. He looks menacing. Dangerous even. I want him all over me. "Get. In. Here." His voice is barely audible.

I part my lips ever so slowly so the single word is shaped like a pout. "No."

A flash of a wicked grin is all I register before he lunches for me. I have a second in which reflex fails me. I'm halfway into twisting away from him when he tackles me, grabs me by my middle and throws me over his wet shoulder.

I yelp, banging my fists against his wet back. "Julian!"

"Let's get you wet, My Pearl!" He's already laughing as he sets me down under the shower spray, clothes and all.

"Agh!" I shriek through a laugh. "You... asshole!"

I get immediately drenched to the soundtrack of his laughter. Both my wrists are secured by one of his hands and pinned over my head. My body writhes, weakly protesting against his strength, unconvincingly trying to get free.

Julian is out of breath, guffawing himself hoarse. I love it when he's like this because his eyes disappear behind the soft folds of his squeezed eyelids. Under the water, his wet eyelashes agglomerate in little spikes. His mouth is wide open and joyous, howling his explosive happiness.

When he reopens his eyes and fixes them on me, I can see my whole world inside that shiny blackness. Everything I yearn for but won't admit to. Every feeling I'm trying to shove down my stomach.

"I'm going to kill you," I say through a smile that's cracking my face in half. "I'm going to suffocate you in between my thighs!"

"Oh fuck, I love it when you get all pissy." His words are spoken inches from my mouth. His naked body glues itself to mine, trapping me against him and the wall. His erection is a throbbing presence between us. "Call me an asshole again. It turns me on like crazy."

"Asshole," I laugh the word out. "Asshole!"

I'm laughing so hard I can't seem to stop even to kiss him. So, his mouth finds purchase on the skin of my neck, my shoulders. I feel his teeth against my skin, the smile he can't shake off.

I thread my fingers through strands of wet hair and hold his mouth to mine. His smile is in his kiss, too. The fun he's having is in his sounds. His lips slide to my cheek, my throat. He sucks, drinking off me, kissing, biting, leaving marks.

My hand glides between us to cup him. His mouth releases mine and his eyes roll back inside his skull. His teeth bite down on his bottom lip until it goes pale, bloodless. "I want to feel you," he growls, tipping his forehead against mine. "I want to have you naked and wet right here so I can fuck you the way I fantasize about every time I take a goddamn shower because you put those images in my head."

I give him one gentle squeeze. "So, fuck me," I say, daringly.

My soggy clothes are heavy, clinging to my skin, weighing me down. He finds the hem of my t-shirt and bunches the drenched fabric up my torso and off my head. Next, he moves to my jeans; frantic fingers working to undo my button, my zippers. He's rough, desperate as he battles the wet fabric down my legs.

When I'm finally in my underwear he takes a step back to inspect me. My lingerie is black enticing lace selected just for him. "I wore it for you," I confess.

His expression wavers, all the fun being replaced by lust. He comes over me like an uncontainable force. We both groan out the pleasure of being together like this, skin to skin, and my mind can't work past Julian's tongue exploring my mouth, his teeth drawing pain from lips, his sounds being swallowed down my throat, his hands roaming my wet body.

And I'm horny, I'm dizzy, I'm elated, I'm going crazy.

I'm in his thrall, taking all of him.

Still, I want more. So much more.

"Let me make it up to you," I say, panting. "For my little show that day."

His dark eyebrows rise. "How?"

My eyes never leave his as I slide down to my knees, my back up against the wall. Julian's eyes briefly widen with surprise before clouding darkly with desire. "Like this," I whisper, laying my hands over his thighs, feeling their hard strength. The hairs are sparse and thin, softly tickling my palms, but the smoothness is the overwhelming sensation.

My lips slide over the water on the skin under his belly button. My hands can't get enough of how easy it is to touch him like this, like he's a stream flowing endlessly, endlessly, and I'm drowning in it. I kiss his hip bone, skimming teeth over it until he shudders under my touch.

"Pearl..." I don't know if my name is a pleading or a warning,

I nuzzle the patch of dark hair mounding the base of his dick, taking his scent in and moving down to where he's hard and waiting for me. "You have the most perfect dick," I mutter, wrapping my palm around him, grabbing him by the base.

Julian makes a sound, like air being sucked through teeth, and I glide my hand up his length, holding it in a grip that's steadier than I feel. I press my thumb to the slit, running it back and forth, smearing the pre-cum there. My mouth waters and I can almost taste the metallic saltiness. His blood is singing under my touch and I get drunk on this sudden notion that I have him under my power.

The mushroom shaped head is pinkish and purplish, swelled and glistening. I press a gentle kiss there that's not enough to savor the succulence of it. My ears fill up with the thumping of my own heart and the unrhythmic noises of Julian's deep exhalations. His hand twists in my hair, but he doesn't pull or force me, he simply steadies me, winding my wet curls around a first.

I kiss him further, going down to the base. My free hand moves to cup him and the weight of his balls sits perfectly in my palm. I let my tongue out to trace the engorged pulsing veins that cross the length of him in twisting, intersecting lines. I create a wet path, readying him, lubricating the way for my mouth. It's mesmerizing how it is. How hard, yet soft. How strong and yet fragile.

"Fuck, Pearl..."

"Hmm?" I hum, distractedly.

"You're driving me crazy, baby," he breathes.

So, I quit the teasing.

"Shit!"

My lips stretch around the head and I suck lightly, tongue swirling. He loves it when I do this as he proves with the hiss that escapes his lips and the push of his hips towards my mouth. His response emboldens mine and I tighten my mouth on him. I taste the salt as I work my tongue in dizzying circling patterns and focus on that spot like there's nothing in the world I love more. And right now, there isn't.

Taking his whole length in, I pump once, and the foreskin glides so effortlessly under my lips that I do it again. Julian's hands slide down to my face, fingers slipping under my jaw, into my hair. My nails scrape the sides of his ass and his hips buckle and arch off the wall. I don't think he's aware of how he starts thrusting into my mouth.

And my name starts slipping between his sounds.

Fuck

Goddamn, Pearl

Make me come, My Pearl

The water is pouring down on me, washing out any sense of shame or inhibition. I want to make him come. I want to make him come and I want to wear it on my skin like a mark. My determination is in the bob of my head along his dick, and the sliding of his fingertips into my hair. Together, we find a rhythm he loves. His hands guide me, his hips bring him deep enough to choke.

My name leaving his lips is a chant invoking his own release. Pearl. Pearl. Pearl.

The first thriving pulse reverberates through us both. His hands become fists in my hair. The deep noise that he roars is the only warning I get before he comes undone, filling up my mouth.

His fits dissolve into tender hands that cradle my head. I sense him wanting to retreat, but I put my hands over his and keep them there. My cheeks hollow, but I can't take it all. It's too much. Some of his essence trickles down the corner of my mouth and down my chin.

The space is dominated by a sense of quietness without his grunts of pleasure, without my name on his lips. There's only the ragged sound of his breathing and the water falling over us.