Chapter 9: Your Shirt Smells Like Me This Morning, Sweetie II
Jules didn't answer. She let her mouth speak instead. Slowly, she tugged Aria's shirt up over her shoulders, revealing pale, sensitive skin that flushed under her touch.
Her lips and tongue descended, exploring the delicate curves of Aria's chest. She traced, swirled, and sucked over each jewels, alternating between soft, teasing circles and firmer, insistent pulls that made Aria arch toward her.
Aria gasped, a sharp, raw sound escaping her throat. "Ah! Jules — oh God — yes…" Her fingers tangled in Jules' hair, clutching for stability, her hips pressing involuntarily into Jules' mouth with every motion.
Jules lifted her gaze for a fraction of a second, blue eyes dark, hungry, drinking in Aria's reaction before returning to her task. She moved with precision, her fingers slipping deeper, exploring and pumping, while her other hand held Aria steady, pressing her thighs against her own body.
"Jules, I — God, I'm gonna — again —" Aria moaned, voice cracking between sobs and gasps. "I can't stop…"
Jules hummed softly against her, the sound vibrating through Aria's chest. She loved this — the way Aria melted under her touch, the way her body surrendered completely, raw and alive. Her lips and tongue continued their ministrations, marking and teasing, every gasp and cry a chorus she could lose herself in.
Aria's body writhed beneath her, every nerve ending alight. She could no longer hold her voice back; broken fragments of Jules' name spilled from her lips in desperate gasps.
Her toes dug into the cool countertop, her head arched back, dark strands of hair plastered to the damp skin along her neck and shoulders. Each deliberate press and glide of Jules' fingers sent waves of fire spiraling through her core, making her chest rise and fall with ragged, desperate breaths.
Every movement stretched and pulsed through her body, leaving her suspended between sharp, aching need and molten release.
And then — as though the world had tilted and given way — her body collapsed, utterly spent, shaking with the echo of release. Her breaths came ragged and hot, her chest rising and falling in rapid waves, eyes closing against the overwhelming sensation of having been taken apart and held together all at once.
Jules leaned back for a moment, letting Aria sink fully against the counter, her own hands lingering possessively on Aria's thighs, still warm from the friction and the tension. She brushed damp hair from Aria's forehead, murmuring softly, "You okay?"
Aria could only nod, her voice ragged and broken. "I… I'm… yeah… oh God… yeah…"
Jules gave a dark, satisfied smile, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to Aria's lips. "Good. That's good," she murmured.
Aria's back arched like a taut string, arms moving almost uncontrollably as if they didn't remember how to hold on. Her lashes rested heavy over her flushed cheeks, her mouth parting in a low, shaky whimper. And then… silence.
She slipped away, lost in the edges of her own sensations.
Jules didn't panic. She had memorized every curve of Aria's body, every pulse and tremor, every threshold. She knew when Aria had simply surrendered too fully to the waves, when pleasure carried her into another world.
"Hey," Jules whispered, her voice soft and grounding. She slowed her movements to gentle, deliberate glides, letting Aria feel the touch without pressure, a moment of clarity pulling her back to the room. Her lips brushed Aria's temple, a feather - light kiss tracing the warmth of her skin.
Jules' free hand lifted to cradle Aria's face, pushing damp strands of hair away. She kissed her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, murmuring small, quiet reassurances.
After a long moment, Aria stirred.
Her lashes lifted slowly, revealing eyes still hazy with the aftermath of pleasure, blinking as though waking from a dream.
The deep flush across her cheeks intensified when she realized Jules' gaze was tender, patient, unhurried. Her lips curved into a soft, bashful smile.
"Still here?" Aria's voice came out hoarse, fragile, barely more than a breath.
"Always," Jules replied, fingers brushing along Aria's back in long, steady strokes. The word carried the weight of promise, quiet but unshakable.
Aria's throat moved, as if she wanted to speak, but the words refused to form. Her lips trembled slightly before she leaned forward, brushing a careful, soft kiss across Jules' mouth.
At first, it was tentative, almost shy — sweet, a wordless "thank you" shaped in motion. Jules' eyes softened immediately, and she melted into the kiss, letting Aria set the pace, letting her return fully from the edges of herself.
Then Aria's hands, shaky at first, found Jules's shoulders, gripping and pulling her closer. Their kiss deepened without hesitation. What began as tender curiosity turned urgent and hungry. Aria's tongue traced Jules's lips, tasting, claiming, anchoring herself in something warm, something real, something impossibly solid.
A flush spread across Aria's face, heat creeping up to the tips of her ears. She broke the kiss just long enough to draw a ragged breath, eyes glassy, lips swollen.
"Jules…" she whispered, voice thick and ragged, full of longing. "I — I want more."
Jules felt the words like a spark igniting fire through her veins. She could feel Aria pressing into her, not from weakness, but from raw need — need that wasn't dulled or sated, only intensified by every past moment of closeness between them.
Jules cupped Aria's face gently, lifting her gaze. "Are you sure? You just —"
"I don't care," Aria cut her off, pressing her mouth to Jules' again, messy and insistent. "Please… don't stop."
Her honesty struck Jules to her core. The girl who had been dazed, trembling moments ago now looked up at her with wide, desperate eyes, pupils blown, breath unsteady. She wanted more. She wanted all of it. And Jules couldn't resist.
Jules returned the kiss fiercely, tilting her head to deepen it, swallowing every soft moan that slipped from Aria's lips. Her hands roamed freely, tracing the curve of Aria's waist, sliding down to her thighs, pulling her impossibly close until there was no space left between them.
Aria's moan vibrated against Jules' mouth, raw and unguarded. When they finally parted to breathe, Aria pressed her forehead against Jules' shoulder, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow gasps. Each breath drew in Jules' scent like it was the only thing binding her to reality.
"You're — so… intense," Jules murmured, her own voice husky, fingers tangling in Aria's hair. "You drive me crazy."
Aria's lips curved in a weak, breathless smile. "I just… want you… all of you," she whispered, pressing herself closer. "Please… don't ever stop."
Jules chuckled, a low, teasing sound that vibrated against Aria's skin, and kissed her again, harder this time, letting there need between them speak for itself.
They stayed pressed together, bodies molded as if they had always been meant to fit this way. Their hearts hammered in sync, a shared rhythm that drowned out the world beyond the kitchen. The faint scent of coffee and syrup still lingered in the air, but neither noticed — or cared.
Because in this fragile, golden morning light, streaming across countertops and bare skin, they had only each other. And somehow, that wasn't enough.
Aria's fingers traced lazy, deliberate circles along the curve of Jules' spine, pulling her slightly closer. The sunlight caught the soft glow of sweat on Jules' skin, highlighting every curve, every angle, turning her into something alive and sacred.
Jules looked down at her, eyes dark and molten with promise. "You know," she murmured, voice low and teasing, "your shirt smells like me this morning, sweetie."
Aria's lips curled into a slow, mischievous smile, but there was something deeper in her gaze, something tender and raw. "I'm not mad about that," she said softly, leaning closer.
Jules reached up and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Aria's ear. Her fingers lingered on her cheek, light as a feather but sending electric sparks straight through Aria. "And you," Jules whispered, voice rough with need, "you smell like everything I want right now."
The kitchen was quiet except for their breathing — shallow, uneven, hearts racing just a little faster than normal. Aria pressed closer, her palm resting against the warmth of Jules' bare skin. The contact was immediate, intimate, a spark that shot straight through her body.
"I can't stop thinking about your lips," Aria breathed, voice low and husky, quivering with need. "The way you kissed me… like I was the only thing in the world."
Jules' lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. She leaned closer, letting her warm breath ghost over Aria's skin, sending a shiver down her spine. "Because you are," Jules said softly, brushing her nose against Aria's. "Right now… you're mine."
Aria's eyes fluttered closed as heat pooled and spread, her body responding instinctively. "I want that. I want you," she whispered, voice raw with longing.
Jules cupped her face in both hands, thumbs tracing along her cheekbones, eyes locked on hers with that magnetic, impossible - to - resist intensity. "Then don't wait," she said, pressing her mouth to Aria's again, slower, deeper — each kiss a silent promise.
Their hands roamed freely, discovering, claiming, igniting fire wherever skin met skin. Clothes fell away, scattered and forgotten, as they melted together without hesitation, without doubt. Every moan, every gasp, every whispered name became part of the rhythm they shared.
Time stretched thin around them, the golden morning bleeding into afternoon as the world outside faded. Only their laughter, their moans, and the brush of fingers against bare skin remained, echoing in the warmth of the sheets.
And in that room — wrapped in Jules' arms, skin to skin, heart to heart — Aria let herself finally breathe, let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she could be exactly who she was meant to be, entirely, unreservedly, here with Jules.
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She was taken apart with reverent hands,
pleasure unspooling until language gave up.
The body crossed a threshold the mind could not follow,
and silence arrived like a second breath.
When she returned, she came back wanting more —
not from hunger, but recognition.
Morning learned her shape, fabric kept the truth,
and the world felt smaller, not because it vanished,
but because she had finally been held.