Nashville Days: (Music City Lovers Book 1) by Julie Capulet

Author:Julie Capulet [Capulet, Julie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Nashville Days, Music City Lovers series, Julie Capulet
Publisher: Julie Capulet
Published: 2020-09-28T16:00:00+00:00

It takes a while to come down from all that. I feel dazed, and peaceful. He’s still on top of me, still wedged deeply inside me. When I open my eyes, he’s watching my face. He’s so handsome, with his dark emerald eyes framed by dark lashes, his perfect lips and the shadow of stubble across his jaw.

It’s the strangest thing, to just gaze into another person’s eyes. So incredibly connective. I find myself wondering about it: what it might be like to keep him, somehow, as I follow my path. He has a house in Nashville. Maybe we really could meet up sometimes.

“You feel like heaven when you come,” he says softly.

“So do you,” I whisper.

He kisses me and it’s a whole-body kiss I can feel everywhere. In my heartbeat. Deep inside me, where we’re still wetly locked.

Travis rolls us over, so I’m lying on top of him. I’m reminded again of how strong he is. “Sing me a song,” he says.

“I wrote some new ones,” I tell him. “For you.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

“I want to hear them.”

I sit up a little, and I can feel his cock start to swell again, inside me. I’m sore, and it reminds me of everything that’s happened and how profound this is. As I sit up a little more, a trickle of milky liquid wets my thighs and I see that there’s blood there too.

I feel different. And I like knowing that no matter what happens to us, I’ll always share this bond with Travis Tucker. A bond of blood and beauty.

I’m glad I chose him. And I’m glad I’m not a virgin anymore. Already, I feel like my world just got bigger and more layered. More infused with detail and emotion. I can remember this for the rest of my life, how beautiful it was, and is. I’m going to write a song about it the very first chance I get.

“Go on.” He’s waiting for me to sing. I hesitate, not because I think he won’t like it. I hesitate because I’m savoring the moment. I’m committing every single detail of it to memory.

His hands are on my hips, his thumb barely touching the center of me.

It seems weirdly natural, this intimacy. Almost familiar, already. Maybe because the very first time we saw each other, the experience was so raw and so hot, it sort of blistered through the usual barriers. It feels good, and right.

He’s lazily swirling the wetness of our lovemaking, playing my pleasure unhurriedly. It makes me happy, that I’m his. That I’ll always be his in this way.

I think he might be fully hard again. I’m straddling him, sitting up. He’s filling me completely, like he’s a part of who I am. Little flicks of pain and pleasure outline his immense bulk inside me. I know that if I start to move, I could come again very easily. But I want to wait. First I want to see if he likes the song I wrote for him.

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