Owning Beauty (Taking Beauty Trilogy 3)

“I did what I had to do Julian. I made that little cunt from Nowhere, USA into the poster child for gold-diggers everywhere, and you should be kissing my damn feet. I should have been the one fucking you in that Vegas hotel room! When are you going to open your goddamned eyes and see that you already have the perfect woman right in front of you? Look at me Julian. Notice me for once in your goddamned life! I’m the only one who can make you happy!”

When I didn’t advance on her—when I didn’t demand anything more—Tessa looked confused. Much the same way she always had, I let my face go slack and slipped my hands into my pockets. Cool. Calm. Collected. I saw it so clearly now… The wideness of her eyes, the way she hesitated.

“I think that’s enough,” I said evenly, jerking my head toward the bedroom door as Liz stepped out, phone still in hand as she kept it trained on Tessa.

Tessa swallowed, staring, and it was several moments before she could look at me again. There seemed to be words trying to claw their way out of her throat, but all of them died before they passed her lips. She stuttered and started before lapsing into silence, and in that silence, I could practically hear the gears turn in her head. I watched with no small amount of glee as she searched desperately for some way to spin this. When she came up with nothing—when she realized how well and truly fucked she was—that was when I smiled.

“Tessa… You’re fired.”

Elizabeth

It worked. Holy shit. I couldn’t believe it worked!

The whole time Julian and I were planning it, I thought for sure our plot was too simple—that Tessa would weasel her way out of it somehow. She seemed to have such intricate designs that I was certain she’d find a way to be one step ahead.

But no. It worked. Tessa had, indeed, let something vital slip. And we’d got it all on camera, practically catching her red-handed… but instead of feeling victorious, I almost felt sorry for her.

Once Tessa walked out of Julian’s flat, head low and sporting a thousand-yard stare, I stopped recording and stowed my phone in my pocket. Julian enveloped me in a gentle embrace, and I rested my head against his broad chest. I could feel his heart beating just as fast as mine was.

He let out a low breath. “Well. Now that’s over…”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I was riding quite the high from closing this chapter of our lives, and hopefully starting a brand new one. “It is,” I agreed, slipping my hands up along his sides and under his t-shirt, exploring the pathways of his muscles. Pressing my lips to his neck, I grazed my fingertips along his contours and planes, making a measured study of them as if I was reading Braille.

Julian snickered. “Awful handsy, aren’t we, Ms. Lawson?” he said as he looked down at me. His face was lit up with his usual mischievous grin, and despite how much I had told myself I hated it, I couldn’t help but want to press my lips against it.

“That’s Mrs. Bastille to you, sir,” I said, fighting back a giggle as I leaned up for a kiss. It was a chaste one, all things considered, but we both still lingered far longer than was strictly necessary. “And don’t you forget it.”

“I think I can manage to remember,” he said, lightly pressing his fingers into the small of my back. “Think you can manage to tell me what’s got you all giddy?”

I returned his grin. “You were hot back there. All aggressive and domineering.”

“Ah, you liked that, did you?” Julian asked, Eskimo kissing me in the sweetest of ways. Maybe that should have cooled me down some, the gesture being so antithetical to what had turned me on in the first place, but somehow it only seemed to get me hotter. I guessed I liked him both ways: hard and gentle; fire and ice.

I said, “Maybe.” And then I pulled him onto the couch.

Julian slid his hands up along my back, making a shudder race through me. I couldn’t help but delight in the way his hands felt, even the roughness of the calluses from hours spent playing his guitar. Everything about him was cast in a soft glow of affection that I just couldn’t find fault with, especially when I needed his touch so badly.

“Julian,” I cooed as I pressed my chest against his, the thin fabric of the oversized t-shirt I had borrowed from his closet doing little to hold back the stiff peaks of my breasts. He seemed rather appreciative of this, really, reaching up to cup them. He didn’t miss a beat with letting his thumbs make those peaks even stiffer.

I let out a moan as I started to undress him, starting with his shirt. I tossed it aside as though its very existence offended me, my fingers finding his tattoos the way they always did. I didn’t think that I would ever tire of feeling his body, especially knowing that I had it all to myself. Julian Bastille was mine, after all. I took a moment to let that sink in, coursing my tongue along his neck as I did so.

“I never thought I’d meet a girl so eager to have a go as you are, love,” Julian said, grinning and writhing beneath me as I bit at his throat. “It’s a bit of a turn-on, I’m not going to lie.”

“Let’s just call it making up for lost time,” I said as I ground against him, making sure he knew that only a shirt and a pair of panties lay between him and the rest of me. “I don’t plan on wasting any more of it.”

That elicited a playful growl. “Neither do I.” When I dug my knees into the spurs of his hips, he took the hint and pulled his shirt off my body, letting the fabric drag on my skin so he could take his time unwrapping me. I lifted my arms to help him, but kept him captive, tight between my thighs. I wasn’t about to let him slip away again.

“Can you say it again?” I asked him, lifting up just a little so he could get my panties down.

“What’s that?” Julian asked me, working on his jeans next.

“What you said back in our hotel room.” I lifted up again, helping rid him of the last barrier between us. His cock fit perfectly into my slit and I sawed against it, lightly brushing against his piercing with each movement. He groaned.

“I rather think I said a lot of things…”

“True.” I began grinding again, this time skin-on-skin, and giggled as Julian’s eyes fluttered shut. He tried to buck up into me, but I wouldn’t let him. Not yet. “I’m talking about one thing in particular, though.”

If he hadn’t been hard before, he certainly was now. He’d filled so much, he was almost fit to burst. Opening one eye, he regarded me. “Were you planning on making me guess, love? Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s not much blood left in my brain, and…”

I moaned as he took hold of my hips, trying to bring me down once more on his cock. I supposed I could let him off the hook. “I want you to say you’re my husband.”

“That?” Julian grinned. “Why didn’t you say so?” And then he sat up, took one of my breasts in his hand, and swirled the nipple with his tongue.

I threw my head back, moaning at the attention, realizing that even when he was on his back, Julian was completely in control. This was going to be a theme with us, I was sure of it. There was no use in fighting it. Not when it was so much sweeter to just give in.

As he bit my nipple, nipping and sucking until it was hard and puffy, I aligned us properly and slid down, hard, onto his cock. The way he breached me was often the best part—that sacred moment when the two of us interlocked. Julian must have agreed with my assessment, because a wet, hungry growl went skipping through his throat, out his lips, and teased my poor nipple into an even more heightened state of agitation. He tried to make it better with a kiss. It didn’t work.

And I only knew of one thing that would.

Clinging to the nape of his neck while the nails of my other hand embedded in his shoulder, I started to rock, sliding back and forth along Julian’s length. This was the first time I’d commanded our movements myself, but it didn’t last long. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one eager to “have a go.” He started thrusting up to meet me, like he wanted to see just how deeply he could bury himself with every stroke.

“Relax,” I urged him, wriggling

as both his hands made swift contact with my ass. The shock of sensation made me moan. “Let me do the work.”

I adored the gleam in his eyes when he replied, “Not a chance.” And then I enjoyed the way he sucked his lower lip into his mouth, a measure of his concentration as he used his grip to pull me back and forth along him, settling us into heated rhythm.