Dirty Seduction

I was the happiest girl on the planet as he peaked and exploded. And then he collapsed. His full weight on mine. We lay there, in the glow, with his cock still inside me.

I loved his heat. I loved him.

I whimpered as he finally pulled out and moved down the bed to take a look at me. My pussy was throbbing sore.

“Ow,” I said still wincing, then shuffled enough to see blood on his new white sheets. “Shit, sorry,” I said, but he looked at me with such adoration that it gave me a lurch in my stomach.

There was something else there in his eyes, too…

They were dark and raw as he moved his head between my legs.

“What are you” I began, before insanity piled on top of insanity.

His tongue lapped my used, bleeding pussy in one long sweep.

“More,” he said. “Push down, sweetheart.”

I did what I was told, felt wetness between my thighs, slick, and I knew his cum must be spilling out along with my blood.

And there he was… the filthy man upstairs. I saw the him that must have taken the sordid photos of the girl in the wardrobe. He cleaned up my blood and his cum with his tongue, his stare on mine, and I was open mouthed, lost. Possessed by the dirty sight of him.

“I told you,” he said when he was done. “I’m not the man you think I am.”

But fuck that. I wanted it all along with him. I wanted the filth as much as he did.

With desperate hands I pulled him up, and I kissed him. I didn’t want to be an innocent little girl. I wanted to be dirty. Like him.

We were both gasping by the time he finally broke our messy kiss. He rolled onto his back and took hold of me, hugging me tight to his side.

“My God. This is madness.”

The tension eased to a stillness, with just our breaths sounding out as the reality of the situation really dawned.

Julian, the man upstairs, had taken my virginity… and then he’d cleaned up the mess. With his mouth.

I let my fingers stroke up and down his chest, still processing the fact that I had my saviour’s cum inside me. I was still revelling in the pain of the aftermath. My pussy was so sore that I knew I’d be wincing when I tried to walk.

I don’t know how long we were lying there, but there was peace amidst the craziness. I found I was smiling, laughing a little as he squeezed me tight.

Then I said the stupidest thing ever.

“Wow.”

He laughed along with me. A genuine laugh.

“Wow, indeed.” His eyes were warm on mine, that dirty lust gone. “I think it’s time for those coffees, don’t you? Let’s actually go through with them this time.”

He was so gentle as he helped me up from the bed. I was laughing as I flinched with every step, proud of how sore I felt after taking him. He left me standing just a moment as he took a fresh shirt from his wardrobe and buttoned me up in it. It was lovely, back in the zone of being taken care of.

My thighs were slippery as I padded through to the kitchen with his hand in mine.

“Stay there,” he said before navigating his way through the broken mugs. Still naked, he swept them up and wiped up the coffee, dumping the shards into the bin before grabbing two fresh mugs. He flicked on the kettle all over again. He was watching me as it boiled.

I had never seen true, real romantic love in someone before. Sure, I’d seen guys with my mum, and people hooked up at college, and I’d seen couples heading into the pizza place to grab their takeaways, but nothing so up close and personal as the way Julian looked at me across the kitchen. This was far more like one of my romance novels than anything I’d ever seen in the flesh. I’d sure love my fellow online readers to be able to get their hands on this story. They’d be cheering me on.

He looked at me with a mixture of things I couldn’t untangle. Care, attention, affection… and the force of lust that I was already besotted with.

I’d had a glimpse of another side of him in the bedroom. An addictive one.Content is © by NôvelDrama.Org.

But it was only the beginning.

I wanted to see inside the heart and mind of Julian Lockley with the curiosity of Alice chasing the rabbit. I was already crazy about his strengths. The power of someone who would be willing to kill to keep someone safe. The quiet humility he carried so well. The sharp intelligence of a man who has pondered life over decades. Pondered his own guilt. Accepted his own wrongs. Held himself accountable for his actions.

It would have been so much better if I had the words to sum up just how grateful I was for everything he’d shown and given me already. Shame he was the English professor, not me. I’d have loved to have written him a glowing piece of adoration for everything he was and everything he’d blessed me with. Everything from a place to stay, to muesli in the morning, to coconut conditioner. For showering me with attention, and want, and making me feel like I was really worth something. For saving me from the evil of Scottie.

How could I have words for that? How could I show such a genuine thanks to someone who’s done all those things? More importantly how could I ever let that person go?

I was pondering that while Julian was doing the opposite. His attempt to cling on to his idea of morality must have been niggling him. I could see it in his face.

“I really shouldn’t be doing this to you,” he said. “It’s not acceptable in the slightest. I should be hung, drawn and quartered.”

I sighed. “Do you want to do it?”

“Of course I want to. You are divinity personified.”

“Why not, then? Why fight it?”

He poured our second round of coffees.

“A whole host of reasons. A thirty-year age gap for starters, and a pure innocent girl who deserves better.”

“Change the record,” I said. “You still think I’m all that innocent after that in there?” I rolled my eyes, trying to break through his fresh round of guilt. “Stop giving yourself a hard time every five seconds.”

“Unfortunately, I deserve to give myself a hard time every single second, not every five.”

He handed me my coffee, and I took hold of his arm before he stepped away.

“Why fight fate?”

His eyes were so dark on mine. “Fate? That’s quite a statement.”

“I didn’t think I believed in it, but I do now. Fate sent me a hero out of nowhere.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I’m not a hero, I can assure you. I’m the complete opposite.”

He was wrong. I was staring up at one. He just didn’t want to believe it.

“You’re my hero.”

“I’m very flattered,” he said, trying to brush it off, but I wouldn’t let him. I kept my grip on his arm.

“I mean it, Julian. I’m not joking. You’re a hero.” I laughed. “Better than any romance story I’ve read, and I’ve read a lot of them.”

“Yes, well, that’s probably because I’ve swept you into my own depravity. I shouldn’t take advantage of your gratitude.”

“You aren’t. You’re giving me what I want. If that’s depravity, I’m right there with you.”

“That would make us a very strange pair of soulmates indeed,” he said, and finally smiled.