Feeling my body on hers, her eager breathing and the desire that makes her skin glisten... this is just fucking perfect. It’s not just lust, or just desire... It’s all those things but it’s also something more. Closeness, comfort. And it feels good. It feels fucking good. But there’s something weird.
It doesn’t feel…complete.
I wasn’t always like this. Fuck, I was never like this. Far from it.
But It doesn’t seem right, or fucking complete…without Ethan.
Julianna is riding me perfectly, going up and down in a flowing motion, my cock defenseless against the tight embrace of her pussy. She comes up until only my tip was inside her and then back down once more; then she sways forward and backwards, my shaft burying itself deep inside her. And then she does it all over again. She goes at me like this and it’s getting unbearable - my muscles burn and my bones seem to rattle anxiously against each other.
I’m going to cum. Hard.
Grabbing her ass cheeks hard, my fingertips over the perfect curve of her crack, I thrust upwards and, as she screams her way to orgasm once more.
That’s it.
I erupt.
I shoot my cum deep inside her.
I cum in buckets. I’m going crazy.
My eyes roll up in my head and I nearly black out.
For a fraction of a second her scream of pleasure dances with the sound of my harsh breathing as I gush inside of her and, just for that one moment, I think of her. And then I think of Ethan Blake.
Ethan fucking Blake.
I pull her close, her head resting against my shoulder as she tries to catch her breath. Still inside of her, I turn my head to the side and lay a kiss on her flushed cheek. As far as I’m concerned, there is no place in the world I’d rather be than right here, holding Julianna in my arms.
She feels the same way as she looks at me.
We’re on the same wavelength as she traces a finger over my abs and looks me in the eyes.
“You missed him too, didn’t you?” she asks.
I sigh. Fuck.
“Yep,” I say. She smiles a sad smile, but there’s determination behind it.
“We’ll get him,” she says. “Don’t worry.”
“How do you know?” I ask. Not even I’m so confident as she is right now.
“Because,” she says with a dirty, nasty, wicked smile that makes my cock twitch harder and gets me hard again. “I’m Julianna fucking Heaton.”
Holy shit. This woman is amazing.
23
Ethan
"We should think of this as brand development." Larry Summers waves his hands excitedly. "And your brand is worth millions." He is a short, petite man, but has the energy of an angry hive of bees. I hired him to help me quiet the negative media buzz. He has a history of helping celebrities turn their lives around, and he has a 100% success rate. I'd say he’s worth the money. How can I go wrong with him? It's an understatement to say that I can use the help. I can't believe how crazy things have gotten with my life. One minute I'm buying a woman 100 long-stemmed roses, and the next, I'm broadcasted as one of the biggest sex scandals of the year.
"There are three general areas that we must focus on—communication, behavior, and physical appearance," he continues. "I'd say you're fine in the appearance department." He eyes me up and down and then continues, "Your Armani suits are sharp and tailored—perfect because that shows you are serious. But perhaps consider wearing a tie that will bring out your eyes, like a nice blue one, or even yellow—yellow is a power color you know."
"Good point. I'll make a quick note of that." I have a note pad out and reach for my pen.
"But we need to make adjustments to your communication. When you find yourself in a conflict zone—like you are so often finding yourself with reporters and other members of the media—listen first! When it's your turn to say something, speak in a calm, level tone. Punching people on National television will never do. That should go without saying."