Chapter 45: Pleasure
The kiss went on far longer than Julian expected. He felt the shift in her the moment it deepened—her usual cool poise fracturing into something sharp-edged and unrelenting, a fierce hunger that refused any pushback. This wasn't the Isabella he remembered. Not the gentle, graceful older-sister figure who had always watched over him with quiet care. This version of her was something else entirely.
When the kiss finally broke, she kept her arms locked around him, her long legs sliding over his to coil tight, pinning him against her body in the warm tangle of sheets. The bed felt like a cocoon, soft and inviting, the kind of comfort that made it easy to stop fighting. Julian let his limbs go slack. He stayed quiet, breathing in the faint rose scent that clung to her skin, and simply let her hold him.
"Jules," she murmured, her voice softening by degrees until it sounded almost gentle again. Her breath brushed warm against his ear. "You promised you wouldn't get involved with anyone while you were still in school. So why her? Why turn me down for that girl? Does she really mean that much to you?"
"I won't let it mess with my grades," he answered, the words coming out steadier than he felt. A strange sense of relief settled over him, like admitting it out loud had lifted some weight. "We'll go our separate ways once college starts anyway. The main reason I don't want to study out of state isn't Margaret. I just… I have a crush on her. That's all."
He felt the hand resting on his back suddenly tighten, fingers bunching the fabric of his shirt. Her breath against his ear grew hotter, more charged. Whatever calm she had forced into her voice, the rest of her was still simmering.
"Fine," she said after a moment. "If you already decided it ends at college, then fine. But I suppose I don't have any real right to scold you over it. I just wanted to look out for you the way your uncle would have—make sure you grew up steady and independent. Maybe I overstepped."
"No, you didn't," Julian said quickly, exhaling the last of the tension in his chest. The faint sweetness from the kiss still lingered on his tongue. He asked, a shy hesitation threading through the words, "But when you got angry just now… why did you kiss me like that?"
"Because I couldn't bring myself to hit you." The lie slipped from her lips without a single crack. She ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip, savoring the taste that still clung there. "I didn't know what else to do with all that feeling. So I did the one thing I've wanted to do for years but never let myself try."
"You mean… kissing me?"
"Yes." Her voice stayed soft, almost playful. "When you were little you used to love it. You even told me my kisses tasted sweet."
Julian's face heated instantly. He had only vague flashes of those early years—playful, innocent moments—but hearing her say it now made his stomach twist with embarrassment. It felt like some long-buried secret pulled into the light.
"That was different," he managed. "We were kids. You know it's not the same now."
"Exactly. The little Jules from back then was so much cuter. He never made his big sister this angry."
He risked a quick glance upward and caught the way her cheeks puffed out in feigned irritation, a flicker of girlish charm breaking through her usual composure. It almost made him smile despite everything.
"Then… why do you want to kiss me now?" he asked.
Isabella looked down at him, her smile slow and certain, as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world. "Because I like you, Jules. You're handsome. You're good. Of course your big sister likes you—likes you so much she just wants to kiss you."
The raw impulse had been checked by the kiss itself. The second he had tried to push her away, something inside her had snapped, a blind need to seize what could never be given away. Voices had crowded her head, years of carefully banked desire, the restraint she had practiced since they found each other again, the white-hot anger at seeing another girl close to him—all of it screaming that she should devour him whole to make the ache stop.
She had pictured lighting the same fire in him, watching him beg and explain while she took everything she wanted. She would have ignored his discomfort, filled the hollow place inside her, shown him exactly what happened when he wasn't hers alone.
But the kiss had ended, and somehow she had forced herself to stop. The boy had committed a sin she could never forgive, yet she had let the punishment slip away.
"Do you like your big sister, Jules?" The question sounded light, almost teasing, the kind of thing you could laugh off.
"Of course I do," he answered without hesitation. "You're beautiful and brilliant. One of the most perfect girls I've ever met."
She gave a soft laugh. "Hehe. Go to sleep now. You have school in the morning. What do you want for breakfast?"
"Sausage biscuits are fine. Maybe a bowl of oatmeal too."
"Good, good." Her fingers slipped into his hair, stroking slowly as she pulled him closer. "As a reward for being honest, you can be your big sister's body pillow all night… Oh, and Jules? Was that your first kiss just now?"
He hesitated. For a moment he thought of Hannah—the bright, lively way she had kissed him, the rush that had felt so completely different from the fierce possession of Isabella's mouth.
"Yeah," he said. The lie came easily, even if he wasn't sure why he needed it.
"You silly boy." Her tone was fond, almost scolding. "Even if you don't remember, I already told you how much you loved my kisses when you were little. That first kiss has belonged to me for a long time."
"Guess I was being dumb." Julian felt the last of the tension drain out of him. Sleep was tugging at the edges of his mind, heavy and warm. "I'm going to sleep now. Good night, Isabella."
"Good night."
The room slipped into a long, unbroken quiet. Midnight settled over the apartment, stars scattered across the sky beyond the window. Moonlight slid through the thin curtains and painted the darkness in pale silver, catching on the elegant lines of Isabella's face. Her eyes stayed open, tracing the sleeping boy beside her with an expression too layered to name—calm on the surface, something far darker underneath.
She wasn't finished. The fire she had forced down still smoldered, flaring hotter the longer she watched his peaceful face. His obedient stillness, the slow rise and fall of his chest, brought the slick heat rushing back through her body. She whispered his name once, barely a breath, but only his even breathing answered.
Isabella let her hand drift over him—starting at the clean angle of his jaw, following the lean line of his neck, the sharp edge of his collarbone, the flat plane of his chest, the smooth dip of his stomach, and lower. He had grown. He understood now what it meant to be a boy and a girl, what desires came with that distance. He was pulling away, offering his affection to someone else. Wrong. All of it was wrong. That affection should have been hers.
She exhaled against his ear, the breath hot and unsteady, her touches growing bolder as she mapped every inch of skin, pressing each texture into memory as if she could brand it onto herself.
It was a shame she had to stop short. If she had come back sooner, slipped him something to keep him deeply asleep, she wouldn't have needed to hold back like this.
Her hand finally retreated. Beneath her own clothes her body throbbed with unmet need, skin flushed and sensitive. She let her fingers trail over herself, chasing the deep, aching pleasure that promised relief. The tension built in slow, rolling waves until it broke, leaving her trembling and spent.
She steadied herself on unsteady arms, then reached out again. With a single fingertip she traced her name across his stomach—Isabella—slow, deliberate strokes that left the faintest invisible claim on his skin. The small act flooded her with satisfaction. A mark. In the end, he was hers.
Exhaustion finally pulled her under. Just as her eyes closed and her breathing evened out, a soft murmur drifted from the boy beside her, thick with sleep and unmistakable longing.
"Margaret…"