Julia and Clay + One
A Julia and Clay bonus short story
By Lauren Blakely
Silky hot.
Wet. Warm. Home.
His.
As Clay buried himself deep inside his wife’s beautiful body with her bent
over the bed, writhing and panting and urging him on with her moans— as if he
needed any encouragement to fuck her good — his dirty mind briefly flashed
back to their first time.
This position. In her bar. Bent over a chaise longue in San Francisco.
Here tonight, she was just as alluring to him. She’d parked her hands on
the edge of their king-size bed and offered up herself, beautiful and lush, sexy
and captivating, and nine months pregnant with their baby.
He wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted him to fuck her hard because she
was horny, or because she was hoping it would bring on the labor she’d been
begging to visit her for the last seven days of her pregnancy, since she was a
week past due.
But the reason she wanted it didn’t matter to him. When the woman he
adored demanded he give it to her good, he heeded that call. Gripping her hips,
and rubbing her sweet, swollen clit with his finger, he drove into her.
As she bowed her back she cried out. “Even harder. I’m so close, so
close,” she moaned.
“There’s always more hardness for you, gorgeous,” he growled in her ear.
“I bet you want me to pull your hair too.”
“I do, I do,” she said on a pant.
He grabbed those gorgeous red strands, and twisted them around his fist
as he sank deeper into his wife, taking her the way she wanted, even with that
big, beautiful belly. He fucking loved this woman so much. Loved her sprit,
loved her heart, loved her mind, and loved her dirty soul that wanted sex in
abundance, just like he did.
Getting pregnant hadn’t slowed them down at all. Quite possibly, it had
amped up her already sky-high sex drive. Fine with him. He’d happily take her
whenever she wanted it. Clay Nichols had never been interested in turning
down sex with the love of his life.
Or in missing a chance to spank her. “And how about this? You want this
too?” he asked, smacking her lovely ass. Perhaps a touch lighter than he would if
she weren’t on the cusp of motherhood.
“I love that,” she said, gasping.
“I know you do. You always love it rough,” he said, landing another
whack on the gorgeous flesh in front of him, then soothing it out with his palm.
“So much,” she said, her breathing wildly erratic, signaling she was ready
to fly off the cliff into ecstasy.
“So much it makes you come right now?” he said on a perfectly
coordinated thrust and spank.
She clenched around his dick and screamed his name.
Fucking bliss.
She was one hundred percent bliss to him, and he joined her in the land of
ecstasy. After they came down from their high, he scooped her up onto the bed,
wrapped her in his arms, and spooned her, his arm wedged between her full
breasts and her bigger-than-a-basketball belly.
***
Eight inches.
You’d think eight inches — well, let’s be honest, Clay was more than eight
inches — would be enough to rattle her body into labor.
Julia laughed to herself as she brushed her teeth a little later.
If that were the case, every day of her pregnancy would have sent her into
labor. Call her a horny pregnant woman, or just called her married to the sexiest
man alive. Either way, they hadn’t slowed down during her pregnancy.
Their all-over-each-other-ness had surprised her, but it also hadn’t. Her
love with Clay Nichols had been borne from the physical. It had started in a
ravaging, intense, out-of-this-world, one-night stand. Their chemistry had
staggered them both, and they’d simply had to explore the bounds of their
connection. They’d explored it so far and deep they fell into mad, forever love.
And they’d never been able to keep their hands to themselves.
Still, she couldn’t deny that she’d hoped a good hard fucking would wake
this sleeping baby and start the earthquakes in her body. Past forty weeks, she
felt like an elephant. Not to mention, she was so ready to meet her baby.
They still didn’t know the gender, nor had they agreed on a name for a
girl. They had tossed around a myriad of options for boys, from Alex to Ethan to
Daniel, and even to simple and straightforward names like Tom and Jake.
Finally, they had settled on Ben for a boy, as they both liked the simplicity and
classiness of that name. But when it came to girls’ names? They were oil and
water. Julia preferred names with a certain elegance to them, like Elizabeth or
Charlotte, while her husband favored a more modern flare, like Hayley or Bailey
or Phoebe.
As she spat out her toothpaste, she tested the names again in her head.
Then she doubled over as Baby Nichols administered a whopping kick to
her massive midsection.
She raced back into the bedroom.
Wait.
Make that waddled. “I think it might be happening,” she said, her eyes
wider than saucers, hope blossoming like a massive balloon, as she clasped both
hands on her belly.
Dropping the book he’d been reading, Clay sat up straight in bed. Placed
a hand on her belly. “Should we go to the hospital right now?” he asked, a touch
of nerves in his voice, but also that calm reassurance that she was used to from
her strong, sturdy man.
“Let’s just give it a few minutes to make sure these are real contractions,”
she said, perching on the edge of the bed. She was wearing only a flowy tank top
and underwear.
“I’ll get ready as you time them.” Clay jumped out of bed, pulled on boxer
briefs, jeans and a T-shirt, and grabbed the bag for the hospital.
But ten minutes later, her belly was quiet as a library. Baby Nichols
appeared to be snoozing soundly.
Julia sighed heavily. “Didn’t work,” she said and she settled into bed in
the dark of the night. A breeze drifted into their Greenwich Village apartment,
the same one she’d moved into a few years ago when she showed up and
surprised him, accepting his invitation to move all the way across the country
and start a life with him. It was the best decision she’d ever made. Well, besides
the decision to spend an evening with him after closing time in her bar — that
fateful night ignited this passionate and everlasting love.
“Can you blame the baby?” Clay asked softly, as he rubbed a hand on her
stomach. “Must be nice inside there.”
She swatted him playfully, then fell asleep in his arms.
***
Julia had started maternity leave from Speakeasy two weeks ago, but the
sluggish pace of the final days of her pregnancy sent her back to the bar she
partially owned for an evening to visit with some of her coworkers. She nursed
an ice tea and chatted with her friend Danya, who served up a Long Distance
Lover, one of Julia’s popular drinks, to a new customer.
Julia checked her watch, and saw that it was near ten. Since Clay had a
late dinner with a client, he’d said he’d stop by on his way home so they could
share a cab downtown. As she looked to the door, eager for the familiar sight of
her husband, Danya motioned for her to come closer. “Can you cover for me for
two minutes? The other gal is in the stockroom, and I have to run to the ladies
room,” she said.
“Absolutely. Shoo,” Julia said, grateful to be busy. After hustling behind
the bar, she served a few quick drinks to the remaining customers, loving being
in her element. As she poured a vodka over ice, she heard a voice this still sent
shivers up her spine.
“I’ll have whatever’s on tap.”
She turned around to look in the gorgeous brown eyes of her handsome
husband, as he recited the first words he ever said to her the night she met him
at Cubic Z in San Francisco.
She raised her eyebrows, a nod of recognition to their shared moment at a
bar years ago. Then she gave it back to him, as she poured him a beer from the
tap, just like she did that first night. “When it comes right down to it, a man
should drink what the bartender gives him,” she said, sliding a glass across the
bar.
Then she stopped short, her jaw falling open as she felt something
unmistakeable. “It’s real now. You need to get me to the hospital. My water just
broke.”
***
After seven hours, his wife was sweaty, tired, panting, and still the most
beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He gripped her hand, as the nurse urged her
on. “Almost there,” the nurse said, and with one last triumphant push, the
sweetest sound ever fell on his ears.
The first cries of his newborn baby.
Tears welled up in his eyes, and the nurse pronounced, “It’s a girl.”
Those tears turned to waterworks. He would’ve been happy with a boy or
girl, but there was just something so special to a daddy about a baby girl.
Quickly, the nurse placed the baby in her mother’s arms, and Julia simply
looked radiant as she gazed upon the seven-pound, blue-eyed, beautiful baby
girl who already had a few small wisps of auburn hair from her mother. She was
the most perfect human being he’d ever seen.
Instantly, Clay was head over heels and wrapped around her little finger.
He knew then he’d do anything for her. Amazing, how he’d gone from not even
knowing this perfect little person a few minutes ago, to being madly,
unconditionally, and unequivocally in love with his sweet daughter.
***
Baby Nichols. Sweet princess. Cutest little girl in the world.
They were all true, but yet none of those would suit the precious bundle of
joy that Clay and Julia brought home from the hospital, nameless. Charlotte
simply didn’t seem right anymore to Julia, while Hayley didn’t seem to suit this
darling baby for Clay.
The first day home, Julia settled in on the couch, nursing the baby, as they
once more debated names. Her hair was swept up in a ponytail, and she was
make-up free as she had been since the baby was born. She was feeling better
though, and all things being equal, she had a relatively easy birth and was
grateful for that. She’d left Danya a $50 for the extra work mopping up behind
the bar.
After another hour of tossing out names and getting nowhere, the buzzer
to their apartment beeped.
“That’s my brother,” Clay said. Brent had texted a little over an hour ago
that his flight had landed. Clay’s brother was damn eager to meet his new niece,
he’d said.
A minute later, Clay opened the door to Brent, who gave the new dad a
heart congratulatory hug. Julia walked gingerly down the steps, the sleeping
baby in her arms, saying hello as she joined the men in the kitchen. Brent’s eyes
widened as he took in the sight in Julia’s arms.
“My niece,” he said softly, a lovely smile spreading across his face. “She is
beautiful.”
“She is pretty much the definition of perfect,” Clay said in agreement.
“Want to hold her?” Julia asked.
“Hell yeah,” Brent said. Carefully, he reached for the baby, then wrapped
his arms around her, and made cooing sounds. Julia’s heart melted over the way
he handled her little girl.
The three of them made their way to the balcony, enjoying the evening air
of the warm May night in Manhattan. Clay brought drinks for his brother and
himself, and an orange juice for Julia.
“Let’s talk names,” Brent said, taking a seat on the outdoor lounge chair,
the baby still in his arms. “My understanding is you two still haven’t come up
with one. What were you doing for nine months?”
Julia raised her eyebrows playfully at Clay. He shot her a naughty look.
They had been doing a lot those nine months — working, playing, fucking. It
was a perfect life they had. “This and that,” Julia said evasively.
“Give me some of your options, and let uncle Brent help you arrive at a
name for this beautiful child,” Brent said, dropping a kiss on the sleeping baby’s
forehead.
They shared some of the names they’d toyed with, and Brent nodded with
each one, letting them register. “Those are nice, but none are working for you
both, correct?”
Julia and Clay nodded.
Brent turned his focus to Julia. “Give me some family names of yours.
Grandmother, aunt, whoever.”
She scrunched her forehead, recalling the names of her grandmothers.
“Margaret and Carlene are my grandmas. My mom is Jennifer, but I don’t really
think our girl is a Jennifer. You think she’s a Carlene?” Julia asked quizzically.
“Carlene? You just said Carlene?”
“I did.”
Brent turned to Clay, who’d taken a swallow of his whiskey. “Seriously?
You didn’t pick up on this?”
Clay furrowed his brow. “Pick up on what?”
“Our grandfather. Dad’s dad.”
“Our grandfather’s name is Lyle,” Clay said pointedly. “As in, Lyle, Lyle
Crocodile. I don’t think I’m going to name my daughter Lyle.”
Brent rolled his eyes. “You forgot what Lyle is short for,” Brent said, then
paused, presumably for dramatic effect. “Carlyle,” he said, letting the name waft
through the air with import. He tilted his head to one side, then the other.
“Carlyle. Carlene. You two catching my drift?”
Something clicked in Julia’s head, and she could hear the start of the
name that sounded perfect for her little girl.
Brent finished the thought. “I’m feeling like this little girl is a Carly.”
Julia met Clay’s eyes, and at the same time both of them said, “I love that
name.”
***
Later that night, Clay tucked Carly Nichols into her crib, brushing a soft
kiss to her forehead. He was the luckiest man in the world. He had everything
he ever wanted and then some.
THE END
SINFUL DESIRE surprise sneak peek!!!
Surprise!!! I’ve included an advance look at the first sexy
times scene in SINFUL DESIRE! I can’t wait for you to
meet Ryan Sloan, and the woman he falls for — Sophie
Winston. Since you’re a devoted reader, I thought you
might enjoy this sneak peek! SINFUL DESIRE releases
Sept 22 and can be preordered across all retailers!
http://laurenblakely.com/sinful-nights/
The black curtain hugged the small stage, shielding them from the crowds
still dancing and enjoying the music. Here, off to the side of the ballroom stage,
in this section of the wings, they were alone.
His eyes roamed her body. The look in them was predatory. He stalked
her, and she backed up, step by step in her heels, til she hit the black wood wall.
“You have six minutes now before you go out there,” he said in a hungry voice,
his fingertips brushing the fabric of her dress along her thigh. “Do you know
what I can do to you in six minutes to make you feel amazing?”
The temperature in her shot sky high. A pulse beat between her legs. She
was hot and she was wet. She’d been turned on ever since he’d asked her to
dance. “What can you do?” she asked, feeling both utterly vulnerable and
completely aroused. It was a matchstick combination for Sophie.
“Do you want me to tell you?” He roamed his hand up her leg, reaching
her waist, making her shudder.
“I do,” she said breathily, her body on the cusp of something intense.
Something she wanted desperately.
“What I’ve been thinking about all day,” he said, as he raised his hand and
cupped her cheek. His touch was both gentle and possessive. “First, I’m going to
place my hand on your beautiful face, and your knees will go weak, because I’ll
finally be touching you the way you’ve been fantasizing about since this
afternoon,” he said, his hot breath painting her skin.
“That’s cocky.”
“It is,” he said with a nod as he ran his thumb along her jawline. “But it’s
also true. Since I met you, I knew I’d have to have my hands on you. You knew
it too. Felt it too.”
She nodded as she trembled from the trace of his finger. “I did feel it.”
He brought his mouth to ear and spoke softly. “If I ever do or say
something you don’t like, tell me. Or smack me. I only want to bring you
pleasure,” he said, and his words were both sexy and earnest. The combination
sent flutters through her belly. “Immense pleasure.”
“You already are. So tell me something else that’s true. Something else
you know,” she said, loving the hot, dirty way he talked to her as he touched her.
“I’m going to look into your eyes like I want to take you,” he said, his eyes
blazing with desire. “That look will drive you wild. And you’ll swallow nervously
because you don’t know me, and it’s odd wanting a stranger as much as you do.”
He was reading her like a teenage diary. On the one hand, she was nervous. She
didn’t know him at all. But she was also aroused beyond words. Beyond reason.
Beyond any normal limits.
For that same reason. Because she didn’t know him.
“Then, you’ll run a hand down my tie,” he told her, and she reached out
instantly, doing exactly as he said, loving the directions he gave. Sophie craved
this kind of interaction. She thrilled to be told what to do. She wanted a man to
command her. So much time spent deciding, and doing, and planning. It drove
her brain batty, and she longed for a release.
This kind of release from her days.
“Do you know why you’re so fascinated with my tie?” he asked huskily,
his eyes pinned on her. He practically fucked her with his gaze. His was so
intense. His confidence set her on fire. It torched a path across her body, sizzling
her skin.
“Tell me,” she said, eager for more of his words. “Since you seem to know
me so well. Tell me.”
He brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek. Oh god, she was
dying for him to kiss her. She was so eager to feel those lips. To taste him.
He grasped a wrist with one hand, yanking it up his chest, and loosely
wrapping the end of his tie around her hand. “You want me to tie you up.”
“How do you know that?” she asked, her voice stripped to the bones. He
knew her. He read her. He could sense everything she wanted. He crowded her
against the wall. Heaven Leigh belted out her song on stage. The inky black of
the backstage cloaked them.
“Am I wrong?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “If I’m wrong, tell me and
I’ll walk away.”
She shook her head. “Are you going to take it off? Tie me up?” she asked
in a voice that barely sounded like it belonged to her. It belonged to the part of
her that had been untended for years.
He grinned wickedly. “No. I have other ways to tie you up,” he said, and
in a flash, he gripped her wrists in his big strong hands, wrapping his fingers
around her, binding her as he yanked her hands behind her back. Heat flared in
her body, spinning through her, settling between her legs. Her gorgeous, sexy
panties were so damp right now they were useless.
She ached for his touch. And she could do nothing but wait for it since
she was his hostage.
He was so strong, she couldn’t wriggle away if she wanted to. His thumbs
dug into her wrist bones, pinning her hands above her ass, rendering her
helpless. The pressure from the twist in her arms bordered on pain, and felt oh
so good.
His body was aligned with hers. There was no space between the two of
them. Only breath. Only words as he spoke in a bare, husky voice, “Do you
know what else I’ve been thinking about all day?”
She shook her head.
He inched closer, his mouth mere centimeters from hers. Her lips parted,
so ready for him. God, she needed him to kiss her. Needed it badly. He was
making her wait for it. Making her nearly ask for it. His mouth hovered so close
she wanted to dart out her tongue and lick him. Draw him to her. His forehead
brushed hers, and her breath fluttered.
Somehow, she managed a please.
“Please kiss you?” he asked. “Is that what you want me to do?”
She nodded, too turned on to form another word. Even a yes.
“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about all day,” he whispered.
Then he kissed her and he wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t sweet. He was rough
as he claimed her mouth, kissing hard. She moaned as he drew her bottom lip
between his teeth, then fused his mouth to hers.
His stubble rubbed against her cheek. She’d have whisker burn later. She
longed for the redness, the proof, the evidence of a bruising kiss.
The kiss lit her up. She felt it everywhere. In her toes, in her hair, in her
belly.
And, deliciously, between her legs.
Where she ached for him. She angled her hips closer as he kissed,
desperately seeking contact from him. God, how she wanted him. And she didn’t
even know his name.
But he knew her body.
He knew her desires.
He held her hands so tightly they might as well be cuffed. In a flash, he
changed his grip, wrapping both her wrists in one hand, keeping her pinned
behind her back. He moved his free hand to the front of her dress, and found his
way up her skirt. He broke the kiss as his fingertips brushed the inside of her
knee, touching her stockings and her garter. “Are you wet for me, Sophie?”
“Yes,” she said on a pant.
“Are you hot for me?” he asked, racing closer to her heat.
“God yes.”
“Was I wrong about anything I told you?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Do you still want to ask me if I’m a good lover?” He flicked his finger
against her clit. Ripples of pleasure spread through her body. She inhaled
sharply, and bit her lip so she wouldn’t cry out loud.
“No. I don’t need to ask you,” she said as he stroked her through her
black lace panties.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” she whispered as sparks shot through her bloodstream.
“Why not?” he asked, as if he were truly so damn curious.
“Because you’re showing me.”
His fingers glided across the wet panel of her panties, stroking faster, as
she rocked into him. He kept a firm grip on her wrists, as she greedily sought his
friction. “That’s right,” he said roughly. “I’m showing you, Sophie. I’m showing
you exactly what I can do to you.”
He stopped momentarily. Her eyes widened. A trace of fear zipped
through her. Fear that he might not let her come. “Did you want to question me
again?” he asked, taunting her. “I can stop if you have questions.”
“No,” she said, her breath staccato.
“Good. But I want to question you.”
“Anything,” she panted. “Ask me anything.”
He fixed her with a serious stare. “Are you sure you want to go out on
stage having just come in my hands?”
“Yes,” she said, begging.
He leaned in closer to her ear. “I can’t hear you. Say it again.”
“Yes, god yes.”
He ran his fingers across the wet lace. He narrowed in on her where she
wanted him. She was so close to the edge, and she needed him to keep touching
her. She needed his fingers flying across her clit. Racing over her throbbing
center. Touching her until she fell apart.
“Beg for it,” he commanded.
“Please,” she whispered in his ear, her knees practically shaking, so
desperate was she for release. “Please make me come.”
He rubbed fast and expertly, and she rocked into his hand, as bright white
fireworks blasted in her brain, radiating throughout her body. Faintly, in the
back of her mind, she heard the song nearing the end, and she knew she’d have
to come in seconds to make it to the stage on time.
But seconds were all this man needed.
“I want to taste your lips as you fuck my hand,” he said, then dropped his
delicious mouth to hers once more, kissing her fiercely as she rode his hand. He
wasn’t even touching her flesh. He was getting her off through the lace. He was
that good. She was that turned on. The tension in her body escalated, rising up
like a rollercoaster car nearing the top of the hill. Then she reached it, hovered
for several beautiful seconds in that suspended state of bliss, and raced downhill
like it was an orgasmic joyride. As her own pleasure crashed into her, he ravaged
her mouth with his lips, swallowing her moans, tasting her cries, and somehow it
felt like kissing was coming, and coming was kissing.
It was like coming through a kiss.
Even though it was so much more. It was being held back. It was being
consumed. It was being driven wild without being allowed to touch him back.
She blinked and breathed hard as he pulled apart. He arched an eyebrow,
and let go of her wrists. Her skin burned from his grip. She shook her right
hand.
Gently, he took her hand in his and brought her wrist to his lips. He
kissed her softly, reminding her of the first time he kissed her hand on the dance
floor as he erased the sting, his lips traveling across the same territory where
he’d held her tight moments ago.
“Better?” he asked quietly.
She nodded as he gave the same treatment to her other hand. All these
sensations both rattled and delighted her — she didn’t know what to make of
this man, and how he could talk and touch so rough and harsh in the heat of the
moment, then become sweet in the afterglow.
He lowered her hands to her sides, then tucked a loose strand of her hair
behind her ear. “Beautiful,” he said, his eyes softer now as he looked her over.
She smoothed a hand over her dress. Her legs felt wobbly. Her heart
roared loudly. Her body still sung.
Clapping echoed loudly from beyond the curtains. The song was over.
“Thank you so much,” the singer said from the stage.
He tipped his forehead. “You better get out there.”
Nerves took off inside her. Then a blast of anger. She was not going to be
dismissed. This was not going to be a one-time thing. She grabbed his tie, tugged
him close. “Name. Tell me your name.”
She expected a sly remark. A hint that gave little away.
“Ryan,” he said with a glint in his dark eyes.
She scoffed. “Your name’s not Ryan,” she fired back, as Heaven Leigh
said her goodbyes.
“Why not?
“Ryan’s a nice guy name.”
“Are you saying I’m not a nice guy?”
She shook her head, and curled a hand around his shoulder. “You’re not a
nice guy at all.”
He brought a hand to his chest. “I’m hurt. I’m a terribly nice guy. I saved
you from those women who wanted to monopolize you at the bar. And I kissed
you when you came so no one heard how orgasmic you were.”
“Then why are you leaving?”
“Because you have to go,” he said, nodding to the stage.
“And why are you giving me your first name only?”
He wrapped his hands around her hips, and brushed his lips against her
ear. “What are you doing on Sunday at 7 p.m?”
She practically held her breath from the possibility that was unfurling
before her — that she might see this man again. “What should I be doing
Sunday at 7 p.m?”
“Be at Caesars. Outside the Fizz Bar. I want to see you again.” He
paused, then added, “Badly.”
SINFUL DESIRE releases Sept 22! | http://laurenblakely.com/sinful-nights/