#Jules x Senait

[emjayewrites]

in between the lines • jules kounde (1/4)

SYNOPSIS: At Zuri’s engagement party, Senait meets her best friend’s fiancé, Aurélien, and his friend, Jules. A spontaneous hookup with Jules sparks undeniable chemistry, but when Senait ghosts him afterward, she finds herself wrestling with her insecurities as the casual fling begins shifting into something deeper.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Senait Kiros (@/subanbrn)

WARNINGS: football b.s., cursing, smut, drama, mentions of cheating/past relationships, dominant!jules. MINORS DNI (18+)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @vile-harlot @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @essaysbyciara @saturnville @trentswrld @planetmimi @muglermami @shepgurl @sucredreamer @julescpu @tchouathon @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @greedyjudge2 @elyseesarchive

A/N: This is the last 'book' of the "football baes universe". Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. Gif by @doinggreat

Senait arrived at the engagement party with a mix of excitement and nerves. It had been a month since she'd last seen Zuri, and the thought of catching up brought a genuine smile to her face. As she stepped into La Quinta de Jarama, the boho-chic venue adorned with traditional Bamileke décor, warm tones of earthy reds, yellows, and browns enveloped her, showcasing Zuri's style perfectly.

If Pinterest threw up an engagement party, this would be it, Senait thought.

Before she could fully take in the scene, Zuri spotted her and rushed over, wrapping her in a tight embrace.

"Senait!" Zuri's voice was filled with joy, making Senait feel lighter.

"Girl, look at you," Senait teased, pulling back to assess Zuri's radiant outfit. "Fiancé life looks good on you."

Zuri laughed, her happiness infectious. "You're one to talk. Madrid clearly agrees with you."

"It really does," Senait said, smirking as she ran a hand through her curls. "But seriously, it's been too long. I almost forgot what your face looked like."

Zuri rolled her eyes playfully. "Trust me, it's been a whirlwind."

"And now, you're engaged to some guy," Senait teased, glancing around the room. "Where is he?"

"Come on, I'll introduce you," Zuri said, leading the way.

It didn't take long to spot him. Aurélien stood out, not just because of his height and broad shoulders, but because of the calm authority he carried. His traditional Bamileke attire made him look like royalty, the intricate patterns complementing his deep brown skin. There was an ease to the way he held himself, as if he was used to commanding attention without asking for it. His smile when he saw Zuri approach was genuine, and it softened his otherwise sharp features.

"Guys, this is my best friend, Senait," Zuri said, beaming. "Senait, this is Aurélien and his friend Jules."

Senait's gaze shifted to Jules, taking in his athletic build and easy posture. There was an unmistakable grace to his movements, even when standing still. His warm brown eyes held a hint of amusement, and when he spoke, his French accent added a layer of intrigue to his words.

"Enchanté," Jules said, his voice a low, pleasant rumble. There was an undeniable charisma about him, a quiet confidence that caught Senait's attention.

Senait, quickly regaining her composure, turned to Aurélien. "So you're the one who's stolen my Zuri away," she said, eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"Guilty as charged," Aurélien replied, a flicker of self-consciousness crossing his face under her scrutiny.

Before the conversation could continue, the sound of drums filled the air. A group of traditional Bamileke dancers emerged, their colorful costumes a blur of motion as they moved to the rhythmic beat.

Zuri and Aurélien walked through the crowd behind the dancers, their eyes sparkling with excitement. An elder approached them, wrapping their wrists together with some decorative rope—a symbolic gesture that sent a ripple of joy through the onlookers.

Senait stood back, watching the scene unfold, when she felt Jules beside her. His presence was solid, grounding. "So, what do you think of the party?" he said, his accented voice just loud enough to be heard over the music.

She offered him a sidelong glance, intrigued despite herself. "It's vibrant," she replied, her gaze still fixed on Zuri and Aurélien. "Definitely fits Zuri's style."

"And what about you?" Jules asked, a hint of playfulness in his tone. "Is this your style?"

"Please," Senait shot back, her sass evident. "But I'll give credit where it's due. This party is pretty nice."

As the ceremony concluded, the music shifted to a blend of traditional Bamileke rhythms and contemporary beats. Couples began to fill the dance floor, Zuri and Aurélien at the center, laughing as they danced.

Jules turned to Senait, his posture relaxed but purposeful. "Dance with me," he said. It wasn't a question, but neither was it a demand. It was a statement, confident and unhurried.

Senait hesitated, caught off guard by his directness. For a moment, she considered declining, but something—perhaps the magic of the night, or the quiet intensity radiating from Jules—made her reconsider.

"Alright," she said, surprising herself. "But don't expect me to be impressed by any fancy footwork."

A ghost of a smile played on Jules' lips as he guided her to the dance floor, his hand a gentle presence on her lower back. As they began to move to the music, Senait found herself appreciating his natural grace and the way he led without being overbearing.

"You know," she said, unable to resist, "I usually require at least dinner before I dance with a guy I've just met."

Jules chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Then consider this an appetizer," he replied, his accent wrapping around the words in a way that Senait found unexpectedly charming.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, curious now. "An appetizer?" she repeated, her brow lifting slightly in mock skepticism. “I usually have a say in what’s on the menu."

Jules smirked, his fingers brushing a little lower on her back, just enough to make her aware of it. “I’ll take suggestions, then.”

His voice was smooth, unhurried. There was something about the way he spoke, the way he let the moment stretch without feeling the need to fill it with more words, that made Senait feel… at ease. In control, but not entirely. It was an interesting push and pull, and she found herself leaning into it more than she thought she would.

As the song continued, she let her eyes wander over him, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the hint of stubble on his chin, and the quiet intensity in his eyes. There was something about him—something that was drawing her in without her fully realizing it. He wasn’t overbearing, wasn’t rushing, but the attraction was there, simmering just under the surface.

He caught her looking and smirked, just enough to let her know he noticed, but not enough to make it awkward. “I get the feeling you don’t do this often.”

“I don’t,” she admitted, tilting her head as if considering him. “But you’re making it hard to resist.”

He leaned in a little closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Good. I’m not here to rush you. Just enjoying the moment.”

There it was again—his calm, unhurried confidence, the way he made it feel like this was just a natural flow. She could sense his attraction to her in the small, unspoken cues: the way his fingers subtly tightened around her waist, the way he mirrored her movements without overshadowing them. He was giving her room to play, and the more she danced with him, the more she liked the way he let her set the pace.

And, if she was being honest, the longer they stayed pressed together like this, the more her thoughts began to shift. She hadn’t come to the party thinking about anyone—least of all hooking up with someone. But Jules was… intriguing. Sexy, in a quiet way. His energy was just different, and that difference was starting to get to her.

Her mind flickered briefly to the idea of what it would be like later, when the music stopped and the space between them closed. She wasn’t against it—the casual hookup, the fun of it. She just hadn’t planned on it tonight. Yet, with the way his body moved so seamlessly with hers, it was hard not to imagine how good it could feel to let herself indulge in him.

Jules seemed to pick up on the shift in her thoughts, but, true to form, he didn’t push. He kept the same steady, self-assured energy, his eyes never leaving hers. His presence was like a quiet challenge, letting her know he was here if she wanted, but he wouldn’t be the one to say it first.

Senait bit her lip, feeling the weight of the moment settle in between them. She didn’t need to say anything.

As the music shifted to an upbeat Afrobeats track, the atmosphere transformed. The infectious rhythm filled the air, drawing people in, and Senait felt herself responding to the beat instinctively. She turned to Jules, a mischievous smile spreading across her face.

Without thinking, she pressed her body against him, swaying her hips in time with the music in a slow whine. Jules’s eyes widened slightly, a spark igniting in his gaze as he adjusted to her new boldness. His hands found her waist again, but this time, he let her lead, mirroring her movements, their bodies fitting together as if they were made for this.

“You’ve got some moves,” he said, his voice low, laced with amusement as he followed her rhythm.

“Maybe you just bring it out of me,” she teased, glancing back over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of the hunger in his eyes.

“I’m not complaining,” he replied, his smirk growing. There was something about the way he watched her—intently, with a hint of challenge—as if daring her to take it even further.

The heat between them intensified as she moved, her body brushing against him, a grind that sent shivers through her. She could feel the tension in his grip, the way he held her close but left just enough space for her to take charge. It was intoxicating, the freedom to explore without pressure.

Senait turned slightly, catching his gaze again, and the world around them seemed to fade away. “So, what’s next?” she asked, her voice playful, as if they were in on a secret.

Jules leaned in, his lips nearly brushing her ear, his breath warm and inviting. “That depends on you. I’m just here for the ride.”

With that, she tilted her head back, feeling emboldened. The air around them pulsed with energy, and for a fleeting moment, the possibilities stretched out before her. She could indulge in the thrill of this connection, let herself be swept away in the music and the heat between them.

“Then let’s see how far this ride goes,” she replied, her words a silent promise as she led him off the dance floor.

Senait took his hand, threading them both through the crowd as a pulse of adrenaline buzzed through her veins. The party around them felt like a blur—glamorous guests, laughter, the warm hum of celebration—but she only had eyes for Jules. They slipped into a quiet hallway near the restrooms, and before she could talk herself out of it, she tugged him into the nearest one, the door clicking shut behind them.

Her back hit the door, and she exhaled, half laughing at her own recklessness, half consumed by the anticipation simmering between them. “This is crazy,” she whispered, her voice hushed but thrilled. “Hooking up at my best friend’s engagement party with a stranger.”

Jules’s hands found her waist, and his lips curved into that lazy, self-assured smile that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, it is,” he murmured, leaning in, his breath warm against her skin. “But you’re still here.”

Before she could come up with a witty response, he kissed her, and the world seemed to tilt. His mouth was warm, hungry, and she melted into him, every inch of her body attuned to the way he pressed against her. She reached up, fingers tangling in his locs as he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer.

God, it had been so long since she felt like this—desired, wanted. Her ex had a way of making her feel small, crushing her confidence piece by piece with infidelity and careless words. But here, now, with Jules… she felt different. Powerful. Desired. It was a high she didn’t want to come down from.

Jules’s hands roamed over her hips, slipping under the hem of her dress. His touch was firm but reverent, making her shiver as he pushed the fabric higher. When his fingers brushed over her panties, he groaned into her mouth when he felt the dampness there. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice thick with want. “You’re so wet.”

Her heart stuttered, and she arched into him, wanting more, needing more. His fingers teased her, making her gasp as he explored the heat between her legs. She could feel herself losing control, her head spinning from his touch, but he pulled back slightly, just enough to leave her breathless.

His forehead rested against hers, and he exhaled a shaky laugh. “We should probably save this for later,” he said, though the regret in his voice told her just how badly he wanted to keep going. “Before I forget we’re still at a party.”

Senait’s lips curled into a smirk, but her cheeks were flushed, and her body was still buzzing with electricity. “You’re right,” she breathed, trying to catch her breath. “But you owe me.”

His thumb brushed across her lower lip, his gaze heated. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

They straightened themselves out, laughter spilling between them as they tried to look less disheveled before heading back out. The noise of the party hit them again, and Senait immediately grabbed a drink from a passing caterer’s tray, downing two shots of tequila in quick succession to steady herself. A flicker of doubt threatened to creep in, but she swallowed it down, reminding herself she deserved this—a night of fun, of feeling wanted.

She glanced over at Jules, who had joined Aurélien and Zuri as they opened engagement gifts. Zuri was radiant, glowing with happiness, and Senait felt a twinge of guilt for sneaking away during such a special moment. But then she reminded herself: Zuri would understand. Maybe even laugh about it later.

Jules caught her gaze, his eyes warm and inviting, and she felt her pulse quicken again. Gathering her courage, she walked over, reaching for his hand. But just as she was about to pull him onto the dance floor, an announcement rang out, signaling the start of the farewell ceremony.

Jules leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. “Ready to get out of here?” he murmured, the question sending a thrill straight through her.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

With one last look at her friend, she followed Jules out, the promise of whatever came next leaving her feeling more alive than she had in ages.

Senait and Jules slipped into the back of the Uber, and the car pulled away from the venue, the city lights blurring as anticipation curled between them. The silence crackled, thick with the energy of what they had started back at the party, but they didn’t need words. Jules kept her hand in his, his thumb brushing circles over her knuckles, and every stroke sent little sparks along her skin.

By the time they arrived at his hotel, the tension had built to an unbearable crescendo. He led her through the lobby, the cool air of the space doing nothing to soothe the heat pulsing through her. His suite door barely clicked shut before he spun her around, pressing her back against the wall.

“Where were we?” Jules murmured, his voice husky, eyes dark and wanting.

Before she could answer, his lips claimed hers, and she melted. His fingers slid beneath the fabric of her dress, tugging it up and over her head in one smooth motion. He stepped back, drinking her in, and she felt the weight of his gaze, how mesmerized he was by her body. It seemed crazy—insane—that someone like him could look at her that way, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable.

“Damn,” he whispered, reverence thick in his voice. His hands found her breasts, caressing the soft curves before sliding down to cup her ass, pulling her flush against him to help her ease out of her thong.

A shiver ran through her, and she reached for his shirt, eager to even the playing field, but he caught her wrists, playfully swatting her hands away. “Nah,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You don’t get to do all that shit here. I’m the boss tonight.”

His words sent a fresh wave of arousal surging through her, and she felt herself getting wetter, if that was even possible. He guided her to the bed, laying her down gently, and she surrendered to the way he looked at her—like he was savoring every inch.

He took his time, kissing a path down her neck, over her collarbone, and lower, until he was between her thighs. Her breath caught as his tongue found her clit, teasing and circling with expert precision. Her back arched, a moan slipping from her lips as he sucked, licked, and explored, driving her wild with pleasure. Every touch was a new kind of bliss, his name tumbling from her mouth as she lost herself in the rhythm he set.

When she was on the edge, trembling with need, Jules pulled back, leaving her gasping, and quickly undressed. He reached for his suitcase, rummaging for a condom. Tearing the packet open, he rolled it on, his gaze never leaving hers. Senait smiled appreciatively at his thick length and the muscled planes of his athletic body.

He went back to the bed and hovered over her, his voice dropping into that low, sexy timbre. “Ready?” he asked, and she nodded, her body aching for him.

With one swift, smooth motion, he entered her, filling her completely. She clung to him, overwhelmed by the sensation, and he began to move, rocking into her with a perfect, relentless rhythm.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. “Tu te sens si bien. So perfect.”

Her nails scraped down his back, and he groaned, the sound sending shivers across her skin. “Keep talking,” she managed to say, her own voice breathless.

“Je veux que tu ressentes tout ça,” he continued, his accent wrapping around her like a caress. “Every bit of it.”

He kept his pace steady, his hips rolling into hers as he guided her through every wave of pleasure, whispering words that made her body sing. Senait lost herself in the moment, in him.

Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, each thrust sending Senait closer to the edge. She clung to him, savoring every second, the intensity building until it finally shattered. She cried out his name as her orgasm took over, and he followed shortly after, his deep groan vibrating through her.

The room fell quiet except for the sound of their heavy breathing. Jules gently pulled away and disposed of the condom before sliding back into bed beside her.

“Damn,” Senait muttered, a lazy grin spreading across her face. “That was… something else.” The best dick I had in awhile….

Jules chuckled. “Yeah, it was.” His fingers lazily traced patterns along her arm, and for a few minutes, they lay in a comfortable, post-bliss silence. Then, he broke it, his voice curious. “So, tell me about yourself. What’s your story, Senait?”

She tilted her head to look up at him, amused. “My story? That’s a loaded question for after sex.”

He laughed, and the sound was so genuine it made her smile. “Fair point. Maybe just the basics, then? Where you’re from, what you do.”

She shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow. “Alright. I’m from New York, but my parents are from Eritrea."

He raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Habesha girl, huh?"

Senait couldn’t help but laugh, a warm sound that filled the room. "Yeah," she nodded, her curls bouncing slightly. "You know about Eritrea?"

"A bit,” he admitted, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Enough to know Habesha girls are known to be trouble."

She laughed again, rolling her eyes. "Oh, is that what you heard?"

"Mm-hmm," he teased, catching one of her hands and bringing it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “But I think I like a bit of trouble."

She felt her heart do a small flip, a flutter that caught her off guard. But she masked it with a smirk. "Well, you don’t seem so innocent yourself, Jules."

He chuckled, his gaze holding hers, and for a second, the playful exchange melted into something deeper. It made her chest tighten, but she didn’t hate the feeling.

"What about you?" she asked, shifting to face him more.

"I was born in France but my dad is from Benin,” he replied, his tone softening. “And my mom made sure I knew my roots."

She smiled, the kind of smile that reached her eyes. "That’s beautiful."

They fell into an easy rhythm of conversation, swapping stories about family traditions, favorite childhood meals, and dreams of places they still wanted to see. He shared little quirks about himself—like how he had a weird obsession with trying out different hot sauces—and she couldn’t help but giggle.

"Hot sauce? Really?" she teased, her laughter melting the last bit of tension between them.

"Hey," he said with mock seriousness. "Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it."

After another round, they eventually decided to call it a night and sleep claimed them both before either one could object.

_____________________________________________

Senait squinted at her phone screen, the bright light offensive to her barely-awake eyes. 10:47 AM. Shit.

She carefully extracted herself from Jules' warm embrace, pausing as he stirred slightly before settling back into deep sleep. Sunlight streamed through his bedroom window, catching the defined planes of his back. Senait allowed herself a moment of appreciation – both for the view and for the memories of the night before.

All that from some hip movements and good conversation, she thought, amused at herself as she searched for her clothes.

She found her dress first, then her thong, silently congratulating herself on her decision to wear the simple black one instead of anything complicated. Her heels could stay where they'd landed last night – she wasn't about to risk clicking across his floor at this hour. The clutch, thankfully, was right by the door.

One last glance at Jules' sleeping form, and she slipped out, ordering an Uber as she made her way down in the elevator. The morning air hit her skin, fresh and crisp, a stark contrast to the heat of last night's memories.

Back at her hotel, Senait stepped into a scalding shower, watching as water sluiced away the evidence of the night before. Jules' cologne had lingered on her skin, and part of her was reluctant to wash it away. Now you're really being ridiculous, she chided herself.

Another Uber, another ride across Madrid. As she approached Aurélien's impressive front gates – definitely a footballer's house – she pressed the intercom button.

"YOU BETTER TELL ME EVERYTHING!" Zuri's voice crackled through the speaker, followed by the immediate buzz of the gate opening.

Senait walked up the path, taking in the manicured gardens and modern architecture. Before she could even reach the door, Zuri burst out, practically vibrating with excitement.

"You disappeared!" Zuri exclaimed, pulling her inside. "One minute you're dancing with Jules, looking like something out of a music video, and the next – poof!"

Senait couldn't help but laugh at her friend's enthusiasm. "Sorry about that. Your engagement party was lovely, by the way."

"Oh, don't even try to change the subject," Zuri said, steering them toward the kitchen. "Coffee first, then details. All of them."

As Zuri busied herself with the coffee maker, Senait settled onto one of the sleek barstools, grinning at her friend's obvious curiosity. The morning sun streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating a kitchen that looked like it belonged in a magazine.

"So," Zuri said, sliding a steaming mug across the counter. "Jules, huh?"

"Jules," Senait confirmed, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic. "Let's just say... those football skills translate well to other activities."

Zuri's eyes widened with delight. "I knew it! The way you two were moving together... I had to do a double-take!"

"Says the woman who was basically giving Aurélien a lap dance by the end of the night."

"Hey, he's my fiancé, I'm allowed!" Zuri protested, laughing. "But seriously, I've never seen you like that with anyone. Jules must be something special."

Senait took a long sip of her coffee, considering. "He's... interesting," she admitted. "But don't go planning another engagement party just yet."

As Zuri leaned forward, eager for more details, Senait settled in for what promised to be a thorough interrogation. At least the coffee was good.

"You can't just ghost people like that, Sen," Zuri was saying, her voice taking on that familiar lecturing tone. "Especially not good guys like Jules."

Senait shrugged, taking another long sip of her coffee. "I'm focused on myself right now. Not looking to complicate things."

"That's such a cop-out and you know it—"

The sound of the front door opening cut off Zuri's impending sermon. Aurélien's voice echoed through the house, followed by footsteps and – Senait's stomach did an unexpected flip – a familiar French-accented laugh.

Of course, Senait thought, maintaining her composure even as her pulse quickened. Of course he'd be with Aurélien.

Jules appeared in the kitchen doorway behind Aurélien, looking unfairly good in track pants and a fitted t-shirt. His hair was damp from a shower, and in his hands were her abandoned Louboutins.

"I found this, Cinderella," Jules teased, his eyes dancing with amusement as he held up the heels.

Senait rolled her eyes, but she couldn't quite suppress the smile tugging at her lips. "How original," she drawled, sliding off the barstool to retrieve her shoes. "I'm sure you've been waiting all morning to use that line."

"Actually, I had a few others prepared," Jules replied, not releasing the shoes immediately when she reached for them. Their fingers brushed, and Senait tried to ignore the tiny spark of electricity that shot through her at the contact. "But I thought I'd save those for when you're not running away."

From the corner of her eye, Senait could see Zuri and Aurélien exchanging looks. Aurélien had moved to lean against the counter, his arm around Zuri's waist, both of them watching the exchange like it was their favorite TV show.

"Bold of you to assume I'm running," Senait said, finally securing her heels. "Maybe I just had better things to do."

Jules stepped closer, just enough to make her have to tilt her head back slightly to maintain eye contact. "Better than breakfast?" he asked, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "I know a place that makes excellent crêpes."

"Does that line usually work?"

"You tell me."

Senait was acutely aware of their audience, could practically feel Zuri vibrating with anticipation across the kitchen. But something in Jules' steady gaze made it hard to look away, hard to maintain her usual wall of detachment.

"I don't normally do breakfast," she said finally, but her voice lacked its usual firmness.

"Lunch then," Jules countered smoothly. "Or dinner. I'm not picky about meal times."

A snort of laughter from Zuri's direction broke the moment. Senait glanced over to see her friend hastily trying to compose her face into something neutral, while Aurélien didn't even bother hiding his grin.

"Don't mind us," Aurélien said, raising his hands when Senait shot him a look. "We're just here for the show."

"Glad we could entertain," Senait deadpanned, but she could feel warmth creeping up her neck. This wasn't how her morning-after escapes usually went.

Jules hadn't moved away, his presence a warm, solid thing behind her. "So?" he prompted. "What's it going to be? Because I can keep going. I have all day, and Aurélien just restocked his coffee."

"You're persistent," Senait observed, turning back to face him.

"You're worth persisting for."

Zuri made a sound that could only be described as a squeal, quickly muffled against Aurélien's shoulder. Senait ignored her, focusing instead on the earnest look in Jules' eyes, the slight vulnerability beneath his confident exterior.

This could be dangerous, she thought. But for the first time in a long time, the danger felt more thrilling than threatening.

"Fine," she said finally. "Dinner. But I'm choosing the place."

The smile that spread across Jules' face made something warm unfurl in her chest. "Deal."

"Oh my God, this is better than Netflix," Zuri whispered loudly to Aurélien, who chuckled and pressed a kiss to her temple.

Senait picked up her coffee cup again, hiding her own smile behind it. Maybe mornings after weren't so bad after all.

Monday morning found Jules stretched out on his hotel bed in Clairefontaine, absently scrolling through his phone while his teammates' voices echoed from the hallway. His thumb hovered over Senait's contact for what felt like the hundredth time.

The weekend's memories kept playing through his mind: the way she moved against him at the engagement party, her quick wit, that laugh that seemed to catch him by surprise. And then... nothing. Radio silence. Again.

Aurélien had been sent back to his hotel in Paris with a foot sprain, leaving Jules alone with his thoughts. Maybe he should cut his losses. Women usually made it clear they were interested in him – perks of being a professional footballer – but Senait? She was different. Challenging. Made him work for it.

And maybe that's exactly why you can't stop thinking about her, he mused, remembering their verbal sparring, the way she'd match him comment for comment, never backing down.

Jules smiled despite himself. He'd always preferred the chase, and Senait definitely wasn't making it easy. His mind wandered to possibilities – maybe he could get her to Paris, or even Barcelona. The thought of showing her around, seeing that sharp wit directed at his favorite places...

Fuck it, he thought, hitting the call button before he could talk himself out of it.

One ring. Two. Three. He was about to hang up when—

"Hello?" Senait's voice came through, sounding both surprised and slightly amused.

"So she does answer her phone," Jules teased, settling back against his pillows. "How's New York treating you?"

A soft sigh. "It's there. I'm tired. Really not feeling work tomorrow."

"Public relations, right?" He couldn't keep the smugness out of his voice.

"I see Zuri's been running her mouth," Senait scoffed.

"Ease up on my sister-in-law. She's just being a good friend, looking out for you."

"She's trying to play matchmaker."

"And what if she is?" Jules challenged, his voice dropping lower.

"Listen," Senait started, and he could practically see her straightening up, preparing for battle. "You seem like a good guy, Jules. But I'm not looking for a relationship right now. And even if I was, the distance? Come on. You're in France, I'm in New York, then you're in Barcelona—"

"Who said anything about a relationship?" Jules interrupted, smirking. "We can be friends. Friends who occasionally fuck."

Senait's laugh burst through the phone, genuine and surprised. "You're impossible."

"I've been called worse," he said, then added more seriously, "But I hear your warnings. I just don't give a shit."

"Jules—"

"How soon can you see me?"

A pause. "It'll be a while."

"Don't you work remote sometimes?" he pressed, remembering another tidbit from Zuri.

Senait's sigh was heavy with resignation. "Fridays and Mondays."

"Perfect. I'm going to wire you some money. Book a flight."

"No—"

"That wasn't a question, chérie. That was a demand."

Before she could protest further, Jules ended the call, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. He immediately opened his banking app, then sent her a quick text with the transfer details.

His phone buzzed almost immediately:

You're fucking crazy.

Jules' smile widened as he typed back:

Crazy about that ass. Book the flight. 😜

Putting his phone down, he laced his fingers behind his head, feeling more energized than he had all day. Senait could protest all she wanted, but he'd seen the way she looked at him, felt how she responded to his touch. She might be running, but Jules was more than ready for a chase.

And he had a feeling the prize would be worth every step.

________________________________________

Senait slouched deeper into the couch, balancing her laptop on her knees as she clicked through another IT training module. The Parisian afternoon light filtered through the curtains, a constant reminder that she'd actually done it – actually let Jules fly her out to Paris.

This wasn't part of the plan, she thought, absently picking at the remains of her breakfast croissant. The past week had been a constant back-and-forth in her mind, her finger hovering over the "book flight" button more times than she cared to admit.

This was supposed to be her time. Finding herself, exploring her interests, having fun without complications. But then again...

You can have fun with a fine-ass footballer who wants to fly you out and dick you down, her inner voice reasoned. That's technically self-care.

She hadn't told Zuri about any of this. Her best friend had enough on her plate with Aurélien's sprained foot and her father being... well, being Ernest. Senait had never liked that man, but that was neither here nor there at the moment.

At least the red-eye flight timing had worked in her favor. These self-guided trainings meant she could take it easy, and by 2 PM, she'd finally finished the last module. After polishing off her leftover breakfast, exhaustion hit her like a wave. She stretched out on the couch, telling herself she'd just rest her eyes for a moment.

What happened to be hours later, the sound of a keycard in the door jolted her awake. Before she could fully orient herself, Jules was already entering, still in his national team tracksuit with a duffel bag over his shoulder.

"You could've at least knocked," Senait said, voice raspy with sleep as she sat up.

Jules clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he dropped the bag near the bed. "Is that how you greet me?" His accent was thicker tonight, his voice carrying that commanding tone that made something flutter in her stomach.

Finally focusing properly, Senait took him in – he looked tired, a bit frustrated, but somehow still unfairly attractive. "Rough match?"

"Lost to Italy. 3-1," he said, dropping his bag by the door. "Not our best showing."

"I saw some highlights," she lied, having accidentally slept through the entire thing.

Jules shot her a knowing look. "The drool on your chin says otherwise."

Senait quickly wiped at her face, making him laugh. "Have you eaten?" he asked, already reaching for the room service menu.

"Not hungry."

"You're going to eat now. I don't want you fainting later."

Before Senait could protest, he was on the suite’s phone, ordering in rapid French. She caught bits and pieces, enough to know he was ordering way too much food.

"Come here," he said after hanging up, patting the space next to him on the other side of the couch.

Senait shook her head. "I'm fine where I am."

"Senait." His voice dropped lower, taking on that tone that seemed to bypass her brain and go straight to her clit. "Come here."

Damn him, she thought, even as she found herself moving toward him. Jules wasted no time pulling her against his chest, arranging her exactly how he wanted her.

"I don't do cuddling," she protested weakly.

"You do now," he replied simply, his hand stroking slowly up and down her arm. "Relax."

Gradually, despite herself, Senait felt her body melting into his warmth. They talked about nothing and everything – his frustration with the match, her work, the best cafes in Paris. She found herself enjoying his company more than she wanted to admit.

He's annoying, she thought, even as she nestled closer. So bossy and sure of himself. But remembering their night together after the engagement party, how he'd taken control with such easy confidence, how he seemed to know exactly what she needed... maybe bossy wasn't such a bad thing.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Jules murmured, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

"Just thinking about how annoying you are," Senait replied honestly, making him laugh.

"And yet here you are, in Paris, in my arms."

"Don't get too cocky."

"Too late for that, chérie." His voice held that dominant edge that made her pulse quicken. "I already know exactly what I want, and I usually get it."

Senait turned her head to look at him. Yeah, Jules definitely knew what he wanted. And God help her, she was starting to think she might want it too.

"You weren't like this at the engagement party," she observed, studying his profile. "All dominant and bossy."

Jules' laugh was low and rich. "Had to reel you in first, didn't I? Don't worry, chérie, you'll get used to it."

"Bold of you to assume I'll stick around long enough to—"

A knock at the door cut her off. Jules untangled himself from her, the loss of his warmth immediate and, annoyingly, noticeable. He answered the door with that easy confidence of his, greeting the waiter in French and gesturing him inside.

The waiter wheeled in a cart, lifting silver covers to reveal what was possibly the most luxurious version of comfort food Senait had ever seen – perfectly constructed burgers, golden fries, steaming French onion soup, and what looked like a sinfully rich chocolate dessert.

After tipping the waiter and closing the door, Jules arranged her plate in front of her with a flourish. "Want ketchup?"

"No, I'm good."

Jules pressed a hand to his chest in mock horror. "You're just going to rawdog the fries? No sauce at all?"

"Did you really just say 'rawdog'?" Senait laughed, picking up a fry. "And yes, I am. Die mad about it."

"Uncultured," he teased, settling back beside her with his own plate.

They fell into easy conversation as they ate, Jules telling her about the match ("That ref was clearly wearing an Italy jersey under his uniform") and Senait filling him in on the office drama she was missing ("My coworker definitely scheduled these trainings just so she could take over my project").

Then, casual as anything, Jules said, "When we're done eating, I want you naked on the bed."

Senait choked on her Coke, barely avoiding spraying it across the room. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me." He took another bite of his burger, the picture of nonchalance.

Senait blinked slowly, opened her mouth, closed it again. She stared at him, but Jules just continued eating, acting like he hadn't just short-circuited her brain with eight words.

The audacity of this man, she thought, even as heat pooled in her belly. She forced herself to focus on her food, very aware of the growing tension in the room.

They finished their food in charged silence, Senait taking her sweet time with the last few fries, Jules watching her with growing impatience. When she finally set down her napkin, Jules fixed her with a look, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Senait..."

"Yes?" She blinked at him innocently, as if she hadn't spent the last ten minutes deliberately ignoring his earlier command.

His eyes darkened. "You're testing me."

"I'm just enjoying my dinner," she said primly, examining her nails. The defiance was instinctive – she'd never been good at taking orders, even ones that made her pulse race.

Jules leaned forward, his voice dropping to that tone that seemed to vibrate through her. "I'm not in the mood for games tonight. The match has me frustrated enough." His accent thickened as he continued, "I told you where I want you. Don't make me say it again."

Senait remained in her seat, raising an eyebrow. She wasn't about to give up control that easily, even if part of her was dying to comply.

"Un." His voice was dangerously soft.

She crossed her legs.

"Deux."

Her heartbeat quickened, but she held her ground.

"Tr—"

"Fine," Senait huffed, standing up. As she walked toward the bed, she heard him mutter under his breath in French, something about fucking the defiance right out of her.

Senait sauntered over to the bed, her hips swaying defiantly. She took her time undressing, piece by piece, her eyes never leaving Jules. Each discarded article was an unspoken taunt, a silent reminder that she wasn’t one to simply submit. Finally, she lay back on the sheets, her skin warm under the soft glow of the room’s ambient lighting.

Jules, still perched on the couch, watched her with barely restrained impatience, the muscle in his jaw ticking. He rose slowly, crossing the distance between them, and pulled off his sneakers with methodical precision, followed by his tracksuit and then his underwear. Even though she’d seen his body before, it never failed to stir something deep in her.

He approached the bed, climbing onto it with a confident grace, settling between her legs. His large hands pushed her thighs apart, spreading her wide so he could take in every inch of her exposed pussy. His gaze was heavy, almost reverent, and he reached out to touch her, fingers trailing along her wet folds.

A low chuckle escaped him. "You’re always so fucking wet for me."

Senait’s breath hitched as he spit onto her pussy, the added slickness making her shiver in anticipation. And then his mouth was on her, lips and tongue working her in ways that sent sparks of pleasure racing up her spine. He sucked at her clit, teasing and tugging with his teeth before soothing with long, lazy licks. His fingers slid inside her, curling in just the right way that had her arching off the bed, a strangled moan slipping from her lips.

He added another finger, stretching her, filling her in a way that made her head spin. Each flick of his tongue, each thrust of his hand, was deliberate and skilled. Senait felt herself unraveling under his touch, fully understanding how addictive this man could be. He was so good at this, at drawing out her pleasure until she was trembling and gasping, her nails digging into the sheets.

Jules eventually kissed his way up her body, pausing to circle her nipple with his tongue, sucking lightly before continuing upward. When he finally reached her mouth, he kissed her sloppily, taking complete control. His lips claimed hers with a hunger that left her breathless, and she knew her mouth would be swollen later. His hands gripped her waist, holding her steady as he devoured her, leaving no space between their bodies.

Pulling back just slightly, Jules slid off the bed to grab a condom from his tracksuit. Senait’s heart raced as she watched him, every movement of his toned body another tease. He rolled the condom on with practiced ease, standing at the foot of the bed, his dark eyes locked on hers.

With one firm tug, he pulled her toward him by her ankle. Her body slid across the sheets effortlessly, and he leaned down to kiss her again, his mouth hot and demanding. Then he lined himself up, pressing into her in one fluid motion, filling her completely.

Senait moaned, the feeling of him inside her overwhelming. He set a punishing pace, his thrusts deep and relentless, each one making her cry out. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, her breathless moans, and his low groans of pleasure.

"Look at you," Jules said, his voice husky, full of heat. "Taking me so well. Like you were made for this."

His dirty talk had her shuddering, her body tightening around him. He lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist as he kept driving into her, never breaking his rhythm. The power in his movements, the way he controlled her so effortlessly, had her surrendering completely, her mind foggy with pleasure.

Her small frame was no challenge to his much larger one, and all she could do was hold on, gasping and moaning as he held her tight. Her nails scraped down his back, and he hissed, the sound only spurring him on.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he whispered, his voice a mix of English and the occasional French phrase, his words rough and dirty. "So tight, so perfect."

Senait’s world narrowed to the feeling of him, the heat and pressure and the way he filled her up. Every thrust pushed her closer to the edge, her mind a haze of desire. She was lost to him, and she never wanted to be found.

Jules’s grip tightened on Senait’s ass as he thrust into her with a controlled intensity, his body pressed so firmly against hers that she could feel every ridge of his muscles. The friction between them was overwhelming, pushing her closer and closer to the brink. Her moans grew louder, her hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor herself.

"Jules," she gasped, her voice breaking as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot that made her toes curl.

He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "Yeah? You gonna come for me, bébé." The way he spoke, his deep voice dripping with authority, sent a shiver down her spine. His words were a command, not a question, and she could only nod, too breathless to respond.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, his lips trailing down her neck, his accent thick and his breath warm. "Let me feel you."

The combination of his thrusts, the heat of his skin, and the praise sent her spiraling. Senait’s body arched, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave. Her cries echoed through the room, and Jules groaned, feeling her clench around him. He slowed his pace, drawing out her pleasure, his own body straining as he held himself back.

When she finally came down from her high, her limbs felt boneless, her body buzzing with satisfaction. Jules kissed her deeply, his hands roaming over her curves, grounding them both. But he wasn’t done yet. His thrusts picked up speed again, his grip on her ass firm as he chased his own release.

"Fuck," he bit out, his voice tight with pleasure. With a final thrust, he came, his body shuddering as he carefully pressed her down onto the bed. They stayed tangled together, their breaths coming in ragged pants, skin slick with sweat.

For a moment, there was only the sound of their heavy breathing and the quiet rustle of the sheets. Jules pulled out gently, disposing of the condom and then collapsing beside her. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close.

Senait’s head rested on his chest, her fingers lazily tracing patterns over his skin. The silence between them was warm, filled with the afterglow of what had just happened.

"You’re something else, you know that?" he said, his voice low and still laced with a hint of his earlier desire. "So hardheaded."

She laughed softly, the sound vibrating against him. "So I’ve been told."

The Barcelona sun streamed through Jules' windows, painting his living room in warm afternoon light. His phone buzzed with a text from Senait, breaking her latest bout of radio silence:

How's it going?

A smile tugged at his lips. Three days of nothing, and now she pops up like she hadn't disappeared again. Typical Senait.

Jules settled deeper into his couch, memories of Paris flooding back. That weekend had been... intense. After she'd finally given in to his commands that first night, it was like a dam had broken. They'd barely left the hotel room, ordering room service between rounds of what he could only describe as the best sex of his life. He'd had her every way but loose – against the wall, on the balcony (thankfully hidden from view), in the massive shower, bent over the—

His phone buzzed again: Earth to Jules

He smirked, typing back: Just thinking about Paris 😈 💦

S: Stop that

J: Why? I particularly enjoyed that thing you did with your—

S: JULES!!!!

He could practically hear her exasperated tone, picture the way she'd roll her eyes even as a smile played at her lips. That was the thing about Senait – she tried so hard to maintain her walls, but he'd seen behind them. Seen the way she melted under his touch, the way she'd curl into him after, despite her "no cuddling" rule.

The pattern had established itself pretty quickly after Paris. She'd ghost him for a few days, then pop up with a text or call like nothing had happened. At first, it had frustrated him – he wasn't used to women playing hard to get, especially not after sleeping with him. But Senait wasn't playing anything. This was just who she was: fiercely independent, resistant to attachment, and absolutely terrified of letting anyone too close.

Their late-night FaceTime calls had become his favorite, though. She'd be in her NYC apartment, usually in some oversized t-shirt, hair piled messily on top of her head. No makeup, no pretense. Just Senait, raw and real.

"I don't even know if PR is what I want to do," she'd confessed during one such call, about a week after Paris. "It's my first job out of university, and everyone acts like I should be grateful just to have my foot in the door, but..."

"But?" he'd prompted, watching her fidget with her sleeve.

"But sometimes I feel like I'm just going through the motions. Like I'm doing what's expected instead of what I want."

"And what do you want?"

She'd gone quiet then, chewing her bottom lip. "That's the problem. I don't know."

Jules had listened as she talked about her frustrations – the office politics, the endless meetings about meetings, the feeling of being stuck in a role she'd fallen into rather than chosen. He'd offered advice when asked, but mostly he just let her vent.

These were the moments that got to him the most. Not the sex (though that was incredible), not the witty banter (though he lived for it), but these quiet moments of vulnerability. When Senait would let her guard down just enough to show him the uncertainties beneath her confident exterior.

His phone lit up with another text:

Work is kicking my ass this week

Come to Barcelona, he typed back without hesitation. Take a break 👀

There was a long pause before her response:

S: Jules...

J: I'm serious. You can work remote, no?

S: It's not that simple

J: I'll make it simple. Let me take care of everything

Another pause. He could almost see her internal debate playing out.

S: I can't just drop everything and run to Barcelona

J: Why not?

When she didn't respond immediately, he called her. She answered on the fourth ring.

"Because normal people don't just jet off to different countries on a whim," she said by way of greeting.

"Since when are you normal?" He stretched out on his couch, grinning at her scoff. "Besides, you did it for Paris."

"That was different."

"How?"

"It just was."

Jules hummed, unconvinced. "Sounds like excuses to me. You're scared."

"I am not—"

"You are," he interrupted smoothly. "You're scared because Paris was good. Really good. And now you're worried about what it means that you want to do it again."

The silence that followed told him he'd hit the mark.

"It doesn't have to mean anything," he continued, his voice softening. "Come to Barcelona. Work from here for a week. Let me show you the city. No pressure, no expectations."

"Just a friend showing me around?" Her tone was skeptical.

"A friend who happens to enjoy fucking you senseless, yes."

Her surprised laugh warmed something in his chest. "You're impossible."

"Is that a yes?"

Senait sighed, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "Let me check my calendar."

"Check it now."

"So bossy."

"You love it."

"I tolerate it," she corrected, but he could hear her typing. After a moment: "I might be able to swing next week. My team has another training thing, and I could do it remote..."

"Perfect. I'll send you flight details."

"I haven't said yes yet!"

"But you will." He let his voice drop lower, the way he knew affected her. "Because you can't stop thinking about Paris either."

Her sharp intake of breath confirmed it. "You're very sure of yourself."

"With good reason." He glanced at the time – he had training soon. "Think about it. But not too long. Barcelona's lovely this time of year."

After they hung up, Jules found himself scrolling through his photos, stopping on one he'd snapped in Paris without Senait noticing. She was standing on the hotel balcony, early morning light casting a glow around her, coffee cup in hand as she looked out over the city. Her guard had been down, no poses or pretenses.

That's how he liked her best – real, unfiltered, not running from whatever this thing between them was becoming.

His phone buzzed one more time:

Send me the flight details. But I'm not promising anything.

Jules grinned. She could play hard to get all she wanted, but they both knew she'd end up in Barcelona. And this time, he planned to keep her around a bit longer.

TO BE CONTINUED…..

[emjayewrites]

ABOUT ME:

call me mj/emjaye • 27 • teamlh

my fics include either a black reader or oc, if you can’t get with that then ✌🏾

FOOTBALL BAES UNIVERSE:

these are all of my works highlighting a interconnected world between 4 footballers and their significant others. links go to first chapter in series.

hey there, delilah (jude bellingham x lila hamilton)

fouled by fate (aurélien tchouaméni x zuri awanto nchang)

one shots: monster mash (jobe bellingham x justine), in between the lines - part i (jules koundé x senait kiros)

i’ll be focusing on adding one shots and chapter updates to this universe until november 15th.

MASTERLIST

dividers @cafekitsune

[emjayewrites]

@hopefulromantic1 sexy confident Jules is seriously the freaking best! This man!!!! I love him so much.

in between the lines • jules kounde (1/4)

SYNOPSIS: At Zuri’s engagement party, Senait meets her best friend’s fiancé, Aurélien, and his friend, Jules. A spontaneous hookup with Jules sparks undeniable chemistry, but when Senait ghosts him afterward, she finds herself wrestling with her insecurities as the casual fling begins shifting into something deeper.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Senait Kiros (@/subanbrn)

WARNINGS: football b.s., cursing, smut, drama, mentions of cheating/past relationships, dominant!jules. MINORS DNI (18+)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @vile-harlot @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @essaysbyciara @saturnville @trentswrld @planetmimi @muglermami @shepgurl @sucredreamer @julescpu @tchouathon @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @greedyjudge2 @elyseesarchive

A/N: This is the last 'book' of the "football baes universe". Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. Gif by @doinggreat

Senait arrived at the engagement party with a mix of excitement and nerves. It had been a month since she'd last seen Zuri, and the thought of catching up brought a genuine smile to her face. As she stepped into La Quinta de Jarama, the boho-chic venue adorned with traditional Bamileke décor, warm tones of earthy reds, yellows, and browns enveloped her, showcasing Zuri's style perfectly.

If Pinterest threw up an engagement party, this would be it, Senait thought.

Before she could fully take in the scene, Zuri spotted her and rushed over, wrapping her in a tight embrace.

"Senait!" Zuri's voice was filled with joy, making Senait feel lighter.

"Girl, look at you," Senait teased, pulling back to assess Zuri's radiant outfit. "Fiancé life looks good on you."

Zuri laughed, her happiness infectious. "You're one to talk. Madrid clearly agrees with you."

"It really does," Senait said, smirking as she ran a hand through her curls. "But seriously, it's been too long. I almost forgot what your face looked like."

Zuri rolled her eyes playfully. "Trust me, it's been a whirlwind."

"And now, you're engaged to some guy," Senait teased, glancing around the room. "Where is he?"

"Come on, I'll introduce you," Zuri said, leading the way.

It didn't take long to spot him. Aurélien stood out, not just because of his height and broad shoulders, but because of the calm authority he carried. His traditional Bamileke attire made him look like royalty, the intricate patterns complementing his deep brown skin. There was an ease to the way he held himself, as if he was used to commanding attention without asking for it. His smile when he saw Zuri approach was genuine, and it softened his otherwise sharp features.

"Guys, this is my best friend, Senait," Zuri said, beaming. "Senait, this is Aurélien and his friend Jules."

Senait's gaze shifted to Jules, taking in his athletic build and easy posture. There was an unmistakable grace to his movements, even when standing still. His warm brown eyes held a hint of amusement, and when he spoke, his French accent added a layer of intrigue to his words.

"Enchanté," Jules said, his voice a low, pleasant rumble. There was an undeniable charisma about him, a quiet confidence that caught Senait's attention.

Senait, quickly regaining her composure, turned to Aurélien. "So you're the one who's stolen my Zuri away," she said, eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"Guilty as charged," Aurélien replied, a flicker of self-consciousness crossing his face under her scrutiny.

Before the conversation could continue, the sound of drums filled the air. A group of traditional Bamileke dancers emerged, their colorful costumes a blur of motion as they moved to the rhythmic beat.

Zuri and Aurélien walked through the crowd behind the dancers, their eyes sparkling with excitement. An elder approached them, wrapping their wrists together with some decorative rope—a symbolic gesture that sent a ripple of joy through the onlookers.

Senait stood back, watching the scene unfold, when she felt Jules beside her. His presence was solid, grounding. "So, what do you think of the party?" he said, his accented voice just loud enough to be heard over the music.

She offered him a sidelong glance, intrigued despite herself. "It's vibrant," she replied, her gaze still fixed on Zuri and Aurélien. "Definitely fits Zuri's style."

"And what about you?" Jules asked, a hint of playfulness in his tone. "Is this your style?"

"Please," Senait shot back, her sass evident. "But I'll give credit where it's due. This party is pretty nice."

As the ceremony concluded, the music shifted to a blend of traditional Bamileke rhythms and contemporary beats. Couples began to fill the dance floor, Zuri and Aurélien at the center, laughing as they danced.

Jules turned to Senait, his posture relaxed but purposeful. "Dance with me," he said. It wasn't a question, but neither was it a demand. It was a statement, confident and unhurried.

Senait hesitated, caught off guard by his directness. For a moment, she considered declining, but something—perhaps the magic of the night, or the quiet intensity radiating from Jules—made her reconsider.

"Alright," she said, surprising herself. "But don't expect me to be impressed by any fancy footwork."

A ghost of a smile played on Jules' lips as he guided her to the dance floor, his hand a gentle presence on her lower back. As they began to move to the music, Senait found herself appreciating his natural grace and the way he led without being overbearing.

"You know," she said, unable to resist, "I usually require at least dinner before I dance with a guy I've just met."

Jules chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Then consider this an appetizer," he replied, his accent wrapping around the words in a way that Senait found unexpectedly charming.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, curious now. "An appetizer?" she repeated, her brow lifting slightly in mock skepticism. “I usually have a say in what’s on the menu."

Jules smirked, his fingers brushing a little lower on her back, just enough to make her aware of it. “I’ll take suggestions, then.”

His voice was smooth, unhurried. There was something about the way he spoke, the way he let the moment stretch without feeling the need to fill it with more words, that made Senait feel… at ease. In control, but not entirely. It was an interesting push and pull, and she found herself leaning into it more than she thought she would.

As the song continued, she let her eyes wander over him, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the hint of stubble on his chin, and the quiet intensity in his eyes. There was something about him—something that was drawing her in without her fully realizing it. He wasn’t overbearing, wasn’t rushing, but the attraction was there, simmering just under the surface.

He caught her looking and smirked, just enough to let her know he noticed, but not enough to make it awkward. “I get the feeling you don’t do this often.”

“I don’t,” she admitted, tilting her head as if considering him. “But you’re making it hard to resist.”

He leaned in a little closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Good. I’m not here to rush you. Just enjoying the moment.”

There it was again—his calm, unhurried confidence, the way he made it feel like this was just a natural flow. She could sense his attraction to her in the small, unspoken cues: the way his fingers subtly tightened around her waist, the way he mirrored her movements without overshadowing them. He was giving her room to play, and the more she danced with him, the more she liked the way he let her set the pace.

And, if she was being honest, the longer they stayed pressed together like this, the more her thoughts began to shift. She hadn’t come to the party thinking about anyone—least of all hooking up with someone. But Jules was… intriguing. Sexy, in a quiet way. His energy was just different, and that difference was starting to get to her.

Her mind flickered briefly to the idea of what it would be like later, when the music stopped and the space between them closed. She wasn’t against it—the casual hookup, the fun of it. She just hadn’t planned on it tonight. Yet, with the way his body moved so seamlessly with hers, it was hard not to imagine how good it could feel to let herself indulge in him.

Jules seemed to pick up on the shift in her thoughts, but, true to form, he didn’t push. He kept the same steady, self-assured energy, his eyes never leaving hers. His presence was like a quiet challenge, letting her know he was here if she wanted, but he wouldn’t be the one to say it first.

Senait bit her lip, feeling the weight of the moment settle in between them. She didn’t need to say anything.

As the music shifted to an upbeat Afrobeats track, the atmosphere transformed. The infectious rhythm filled the air, drawing people in, and Senait felt herself responding to the beat instinctively. She turned to Jules, a mischievous smile spreading across her face.

Without thinking, she pressed her body against him, swaying her hips in time with the music in a slow whine. Jules’s eyes widened slightly, a spark igniting in his gaze as he adjusted to her new boldness. His hands found her waist again, but this time, he let her lead, mirroring her movements, their bodies fitting together as if they were made for this.

“You’ve got some moves,” he said, his voice low, laced with amusement as he followed her rhythm.

“Maybe you just bring it out of me,” she teased, glancing back over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of the hunger in his eyes.

“I’m not complaining,” he replied, his smirk growing. There was something about the way he watched her—intently, with a hint of challenge—as if daring her to take it even further.

The heat between them intensified as she moved, her body brushing against him, a grind that sent shivers through her. She could feel the tension in his grip, the way he held her close but left just enough space for her to take charge. It was intoxicating, the freedom to explore without pressure.

Senait turned slightly, catching his gaze again, and the world around them seemed to fade away. “So, what’s next?” she asked, her voice playful, as if they were in on a secret.

Jules leaned in, his lips nearly brushing her ear, his breath warm and inviting. “That depends on you. I’m just here for the ride.”

With that, she tilted her head back, feeling emboldened. The air around them pulsed with energy, and for a fleeting moment, the possibilities stretched out before her. She could indulge in the thrill of this connection, let herself be swept away in the music and the heat between them.

“Then let’s see how far this ride goes,” she replied, her words a silent promise as she led him off the dance floor.

Senait took his hand, threading them both through the crowd as a pulse of adrenaline buzzed through her veins. The party around them felt like a blur—glamorous guests, laughter, the warm hum of celebration—but she only had eyes for Jules. They slipped into a quiet hallway near the restrooms, and before she could talk herself out of it, she tugged him into the nearest one, the door clicking shut behind them.

Her back hit the door, and she exhaled, half laughing at her own recklessness, half consumed by the anticipation simmering between them. “This is crazy,” she whispered, her voice hushed but thrilled. “Hooking up at my best friend’s engagement party with a stranger.”

Jules’s hands found her waist, and his lips curved into that lazy, self-assured smile that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, it is,” he murmured, leaning in, his breath warm against her skin. “But you’re still here.”

Before she could come up with a witty response, he kissed her, and the world seemed to tilt. His mouth was warm, hungry, and she melted into him, every inch of her body attuned to the way he pressed against her. She reached up, fingers tangling in his locs as he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer.

God, it had been so long since she felt like this—desired, wanted. Her ex had a way of making her feel small, crushing her confidence piece by piece with infidelity and careless words. But here, now, with Jules… she felt different. Powerful. Desired. It was a high she didn’t want to come down from.

Jules’s hands roamed over her hips, slipping under the hem of her dress. His touch was firm but reverent, making her shiver as he pushed the fabric higher. When his fingers brushed over her panties, he groaned into her mouth when he felt the dampness there. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice thick with want. “You’re so wet.”

Her heart stuttered, and she arched into him, wanting more, needing more. His fingers teased her, making her gasp as he explored the heat between her legs. She could feel herself losing control, her head spinning from his touch, but he pulled back slightly, just enough to leave her breathless.

His forehead rested against hers, and he exhaled a shaky laugh. “We should probably save this for later,” he said, though the regret in his voice told her just how badly he wanted to keep going. “Before I forget we’re still at a party.”

Senait’s lips curled into a smirk, but her cheeks were flushed, and her body was still buzzing with electricity. “You’re right,” she breathed, trying to catch her breath. “But you owe me.”

His thumb brushed across her lower lip, his gaze heated. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

They straightened themselves out, laughter spilling between them as they tried to look less disheveled before heading back out. The noise of the party hit them again, and Senait immediately grabbed a drink from a passing caterer’s tray, downing two shots of tequila in quick succession to steady herself. A flicker of doubt threatened to creep in, but she swallowed it down, reminding herself she deserved this—a night of fun, of feeling wanted.

She glanced over at Jules, who had joined Aurélien and Zuri as they opened engagement gifts. Zuri was radiant, glowing with happiness, and Senait felt a twinge of guilt for sneaking away during such a special moment. But then she reminded herself: Zuri would understand. Maybe even laugh about it later.

Jules caught her gaze, his eyes warm and inviting, and she felt her pulse quicken again. Gathering her courage, she walked over, reaching for his hand. But just as she was about to pull him onto the dance floor, an announcement rang out, signaling the start of the farewell ceremony.

Jules leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. “Ready to get out of here?” he murmured, the question sending a thrill straight through her.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

With one last look at her friend, she followed Jules out, the promise of whatever came next leaving her feeling more alive than she had in ages.

Senait and Jules slipped into the back of the Uber, and the car pulled away from the venue, the city lights blurring as anticipation curled between them. The silence crackled, thick with the energy of what they had started back at the party, but they didn’t need words. Jules kept her hand in his, his thumb brushing circles over her knuckles, and every stroke sent little sparks along her skin.

By the time they arrived at his hotel, the tension had built to an unbearable crescendo. He led her through the lobby, the cool air of the space doing nothing to soothe the heat pulsing through her. His suite door barely clicked shut before he spun her around, pressing her back against the wall.

“Where were we?” Jules murmured, his voice husky, eyes dark and wanting.

Before she could answer, his lips claimed hers, and she melted. His fingers slid beneath the fabric of her dress, tugging it up and over her head in one smooth motion. He stepped back, drinking her in, and she felt the weight of his gaze, how mesmerized he was by her body. It seemed crazy—insane—that someone like him could look at her that way, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable.

“Damn,” he whispered, reverence thick in his voice. His hands found her breasts, caressing the soft curves before sliding down to cup her ass, pulling her flush against him to help her ease out of her thong.

A shiver ran through her, and she reached for his shirt, eager to even the playing field, but he caught her wrists, playfully swatting her hands away. “Nah,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You don’t get to do all that shit here. I’m the boss tonight.”

His words sent a fresh wave of arousal surging through her, and she felt herself getting wetter, if that was even possible. He guided her to the bed, laying her down gently, and she surrendered to the way he looked at her—like he was savoring every inch.

He took his time, kissing a path down her neck, over her collarbone, and lower, until he was between her thighs. Her breath caught as his tongue found her clit, teasing and circling with expert precision. Her back arched, a moan slipping from her lips as he sucked, licked, and explored, driving her wild with pleasure. Every touch was a new kind of bliss, his name tumbling from her mouth as she lost herself in the rhythm he set.

When she was on the edge, trembling with need, Jules pulled back, leaving her gasping, and quickly undressed. He reached for his suitcase, rummaging for a condom. Tearing the packet open, he rolled it on, his gaze never leaving hers. Senait smiled appreciatively at his thick length and the muscled planes of his athletic body.

He went back to the bed and hovered over her, his voice dropping into that low, sexy timbre. “Ready?” he asked, and she nodded, her body aching for him.

With one swift, smooth motion, he entered her, filling her completely. She clung to him, overwhelmed by the sensation, and he began to move, rocking into her with a perfect, relentless rhythm.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. “Tu te sens si bien. So perfect.”

Her nails scraped down his back, and he groaned, the sound sending shivers across her skin. “Keep talking,” she managed to say, her own voice breathless.

“Je veux que tu ressentes tout ça,” he continued, his accent wrapping around her like a caress. “Every bit of it.”

He kept his pace steady, his hips rolling into hers as he guided her through every wave of pleasure, whispering words that made her body sing. Senait lost herself in the moment, in him.

Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, each thrust sending Senait closer to the edge. She clung to him, savoring every second, the intensity building until it finally shattered. She cried out his name as her orgasm took over, and he followed shortly after, his deep groan vibrating through her.

The room fell quiet except for the sound of their heavy breathing. Jules gently pulled away and disposed of the condom before sliding back into bed beside her.

“Damn,” Senait muttered, a lazy grin spreading across her face. “That was… something else.” The best dick I had in awhile….

Jules chuckled. “Yeah, it was.” His fingers lazily traced patterns along her arm, and for a few minutes, they lay in a comfortable, post-bliss silence. Then, he broke it, his voice curious. “So, tell me about yourself. What’s your story, Senait?”

She tilted her head to look up at him, amused. “My story? That’s a loaded question for after sex.”

He laughed, and the sound was so genuine it made her smile. “Fair point. Maybe just the basics, then? Where you’re from, what you do.”

She shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow. “Alright. I’m from New York, but my parents are from Eritrea."

He raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Habesha girl, huh?"

Senait couldn’t help but laugh, a warm sound that filled the room. "Yeah," she nodded, her curls bouncing slightly. "You know about Eritrea?"

"A bit,” he admitted, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Enough to know Habesha girls are known to be trouble."

She laughed again, rolling her eyes. "Oh, is that what you heard?"

"Mm-hmm," he teased, catching one of her hands and bringing it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “But I think I like a bit of trouble."

She felt her heart do a small flip, a flutter that caught her off guard. But she masked it with a smirk. "Well, you don’t seem so innocent yourself, Jules."

He chuckled, his gaze holding hers, and for a second, the playful exchange melted into something deeper. It made her chest tighten, but she didn’t hate the feeling.

"What about you?" she asked, shifting to face him more.

"I was born in France but my dad is from Benin,” he replied, his tone softening. “And my mom made sure I knew my roots."

She smiled, the kind of smile that reached her eyes. "That’s beautiful."

They fell into an easy rhythm of conversation, swapping stories about family traditions, favorite childhood meals, and dreams of places they still wanted to see. He shared little quirks about himself—like how he had a weird obsession with trying out different hot sauces—and she couldn’t help but giggle.

"Hot sauce? Really?" she teased, her laughter melting the last bit of tension between them.

"Hey," he said with mock seriousness. "Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it."

After another round, they eventually decided to call it a night and sleep claimed them both before either one could object.

_____________________________________________

Senait squinted at her phone screen, the bright light offensive to her barely-awake eyes. 10:47 AM. Shit.

She carefully extracted herself from Jules' warm embrace, pausing as he stirred slightly before settling back into deep sleep. Sunlight streamed through his bedroom window, catching the defined planes of his back. Senait allowed herself a moment of appreciation – both for the view and for the memories of the night before.

All that from some hip movements and good conversation, she thought, amused at herself as she searched for her clothes.

She found her dress first, then her thong, silently congratulating herself on her decision to wear the simple black one instead of anything complicated. Her heels could stay where they'd landed last night – she wasn't about to risk clicking across his floor at this hour. The clutch, thankfully, was right by the door.

One last glance at Jules' sleeping form, and she slipped out, ordering an Uber as she made her way down in the elevator. The morning air hit her skin, fresh and crisp, a stark contrast to the heat of last night's memories.

Back at her hotel, Senait stepped into a scalding shower, watching as water sluiced away the evidence of the night before. Jules' cologne had lingered on her skin, and part of her was reluctant to wash it away. Now you're really being ridiculous, she chided herself.

Another Uber, another ride across Madrid. As she approached Aurélien's impressive front gates – definitely a footballer's house – she pressed the intercom button.

"YOU BETTER TELL ME EVERYTHING!" Zuri's voice crackled through the speaker, followed by the immediate buzz of the gate opening.

Senait walked up the path, taking in the manicured gardens and modern architecture. Before she could even reach the door, Zuri burst out, practically vibrating with excitement.

"You disappeared!" Zuri exclaimed, pulling her inside. "One minute you're dancing with Jules, looking like something out of a music video, and the next – poof!"

Senait couldn't help but laugh at her friend's enthusiasm. "Sorry about that. Your engagement party was lovely, by the way."

"Oh, don't even try to change the subject," Zuri said, steering them toward the kitchen. "Coffee first, then details. All of them."

As Zuri busied herself with the coffee maker, Senait settled onto one of the sleek barstools, grinning at her friend's obvious curiosity. The morning sun streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating a kitchen that looked like it belonged in a magazine.

"So," Zuri said, sliding a steaming mug across the counter. "Jules, huh?"

"Jules," Senait confirmed, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic. "Let's just say... those football skills translate well to other activities."

Zuri's eyes widened with delight. "I knew it! The way you two were moving together... I had to do a double-take!"

"Says the woman who was basically giving Aurélien a lap dance by the end of the night."

"Hey, he's my fiancé, I'm allowed!" Zuri protested, laughing. "But seriously, I've never seen you like that with anyone. Jules must be something special."

Senait took a long sip of her coffee, considering. "He's... interesting," she admitted. "But don't go planning another engagement party just yet."

As Zuri leaned forward, eager for more details, Senait settled in for what promised to be a thorough interrogation. At least the coffee was good.

"You can't just ghost people like that, Sen," Zuri was saying, her voice taking on that familiar lecturing tone. "Especially not good guys like Jules."

Senait shrugged, taking another long sip of her coffee. "I'm focused on myself right now. Not looking to complicate things."

"That's such a cop-out and you know it—"

The sound of the front door opening cut off Zuri's impending sermon. Aurélien's voice echoed through the house, followed by footsteps and – Senait's stomach did an unexpected flip – a familiar French-accented laugh.

Of course, Senait thought, maintaining her composure even as her pulse quickened. Of course he'd be with Aurélien.

Jules appeared in the kitchen doorway behind Aurélien, looking unfairly good in track pants and a fitted t-shirt. His hair was damp from a shower, and in his hands were her abandoned Louboutins.

"I found this, Cinderella," Jules teased, his eyes dancing with amusement as he held up the heels.

Senait rolled her eyes, but she couldn't quite suppress the smile tugging at her lips. "How original," she drawled, sliding off the barstool to retrieve her shoes. "I'm sure you've been waiting all morning to use that line."

"Actually, I had a few others prepared," Jules replied, not releasing the shoes immediately when she reached for them. Their fingers brushed, and Senait tried to ignore the tiny spark of electricity that shot through her at the contact. "But I thought I'd save those for when you're not running away."

From the corner of her eye, Senait could see Zuri and Aurélien exchanging looks. Aurélien had moved to lean against the counter, his arm around Zuri's waist, both of them watching the exchange like it was their favorite TV show.

"Bold of you to assume I'm running," Senait said, finally securing her heels. "Maybe I just had better things to do."

Jules stepped closer, just enough to make her have to tilt her head back slightly to maintain eye contact. "Better than breakfast?" he asked, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "I know a place that makes excellent crêpes."

"Does that line usually work?"

"You tell me."

Senait was acutely aware of their audience, could practically feel Zuri vibrating with anticipation across the kitchen. But something in Jules' steady gaze made it hard to look away, hard to maintain her usual wall of detachment.

"I don't normally do breakfast," she said finally, but her voice lacked its usual firmness.

"Lunch then," Jules countered smoothly. "Or dinner. I'm not picky about meal times."

A snort of laughter from Zuri's direction broke the moment. Senait glanced over to see her friend hastily trying to compose her face into something neutral, while Aurélien didn't even bother hiding his grin.

"Don't mind us," Aurélien said, raising his hands when Senait shot him a look. "We're just here for the show."

"Glad we could entertain," Senait deadpanned, but she could feel warmth creeping up her neck. This wasn't how her morning-after escapes usually went.

Jules hadn't moved away, his presence a warm, solid thing behind her. "So?" he prompted. "What's it going to be? Because I can keep going. I have all day, and Aurélien just restocked his coffee."

"You're persistent," Senait observed, turning back to face him.

"You're worth persisting for."

Zuri made a sound that could only be described as a squeal, quickly muffled against Aurélien's shoulder. Senait ignored her, focusing instead on the earnest look in Jules' eyes, the slight vulnerability beneath his confident exterior.

This could be dangerous, she thought. But for the first time in a long time, the danger felt more thrilling than threatening.

"Fine," she said finally. "Dinner. But I'm choosing the place."

The smile that spread across Jules' face made something warm unfurl in her chest. "Deal."

"Oh my God, this is better than Netflix," Zuri whispered loudly to Aurélien, who chuckled and pressed a kiss to her temple.

Senait picked up her coffee cup again, hiding her own smile behind it. Maybe mornings after weren't so bad after all.

Monday morning found Jules stretched out on his hotel bed in Clairefontaine, absently scrolling through his phone while his teammates' voices echoed from the hallway. His thumb hovered over Senait's contact for what felt like the hundredth time.

The weekend's memories kept playing through his mind: the way she moved against him at the engagement party, her quick wit, that laugh that seemed to catch him by surprise. And then... nothing. Radio silence. Again.

Aurélien had been sent back to his hotel in Paris with a foot sprain, leaving Jules alone with his thoughts. Maybe he should cut his losses. Women usually made it clear they were interested in him – perks of being a professional footballer – but Senait? She was different. Challenging. Made him work for it.

And maybe that's exactly why you can't stop thinking about her, he mused, remembering their verbal sparring, the way she'd match him comment for comment, never backing down.

Jules smiled despite himself. He'd always preferred the chase, and Senait definitely wasn't making it easy. His mind wandered to possibilities – maybe he could get her to Paris, or even Barcelona. The thought of showing her around, seeing that sharp wit directed at his favorite places...

Fuck it, he thought, hitting the call button before he could talk himself out of it.

One ring. Two. Three. He was about to hang up when—

"Hello?" Senait's voice came through, sounding both surprised and slightly amused.

"So she does answer her phone," Jules teased, settling back against his pillows. "How's New York treating you?"

A soft sigh. "It's there. I'm tired. Really not feeling work tomorrow."

"Public relations, right?" He couldn't keep the smugness out of his voice.

"I see Zuri's been running her mouth," Senait scoffed.

"Ease up on my sister-in-law. She's just being a good friend, looking out for you."

"She's trying to play matchmaker."

"And what if she is?" Jules challenged, his voice dropping lower.

"Listen," Senait started, and he could practically see her straightening up, preparing for battle. "You seem like a good guy, Jules. But I'm not looking for a relationship right now. And even if I was, the distance? Come on. You're in France, I'm in New York, then you're in Barcelona—"

"Who said anything about a relationship?" Jules interrupted, smirking. "We can be friends. Friends who occasionally fuck."

Senait's laugh burst through the phone, genuine and surprised. "You're impossible."

"I've been called worse," he said, then added more seriously, "But I hear your warnings. I just don't give a shit."

"Jules—"

"How soon can you see me?"

A pause. "It'll be a while."

"Don't you work remote sometimes?" he pressed, remembering another tidbit from Zuri.

Senait's sigh was heavy with resignation. "Fridays and Mondays."

"Perfect. I'm going to wire you some money. Book a flight."

"No—"

"That wasn't a question, chérie. That was a demand."

Before she could protest further, Jules ended the call, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. He immediately opened his banking app, then sent her a quick text with the transfer details.

His phone buzzed almost immediately:

You're fucking crazy.

Jules' smile widened as he typed back:

Crazy about that ass. Book the flight. 😜

Putting his phone down, he laced his fingers behind his head, feeling more energized than he had all day. Senait could protest all she wanted, but he'd seen the way she looked at him, felt how she responded to his touch. She might be running, but Jules was more than ready for a chase.

And he had a feeling the prize would be worth every step.

________________________________________

Senait slouched deeper into the couch, balancing her laptop on her knees as she clicked through another IT training module. The Parisian afternoon light filtered through the curtains, a constant reminder that she'd actually done it – actually let Jules fly her out to Paris.

This wasn't part of the plan, she thought, absently picking at the remains of her breakfast croissant. The past week had been a constant back-and-forth in her mind, her finger hovering over the "book flight" button more times than she cared to admit.

This was supposed to be her time. Finding herself, exploring her interests, having fun without complications. But then again...

You can have fun with a fine-ass footballer who wants to fly you out and dick you down, her inner voice reasoned. That's technically self-care.

She hadn't told Zuri about any of this. Her best friend had enough on her plate with Aurélien's sprained foot and her father being... well, being Ernest. Senait had never liked that man, but that was neither here nor there at the moment.

At least the red-eye flight timing had worked in her favor. These self-guided trainings meant she could take it easy, and by 2 PM, she'd finally finished the last module. After polishing off her leftover breakfast, exhaustion hit her like a wave. She stretched out on the couch, telling herself she'd just rest her eyes for a moment.

What happened to be hours later, the sound of a keycard in the door jolted her awake. Before she could fully orient herself, Jules was already entering, still in his national team tracksuit with a duffel bag over his shoulder.

"You could've at least knocked," Senait said, voice raspy with sleep as she sat up.

Jules clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he dropped the bag near the bed. "Is that how you greet me?" His accent was thicker tonight, his voice carrying that commanding tone that made something flutter in her stomach.

Finally focusing properly, Senait took him in – he looked tired, a bit frustrated, but somehow still unfairly attractive. "Rough match?"

"Lost to Italy. 3-1," he said, dropping his bag by the door. "Not our best showing."

"I saw some highlights," she lied, having accidentally slept through the entire thing.

Jules shot her a knowing look. "The drool on your chin says otherwise."

Senait quickly wiped at her face, making him laugh. "Have you eaten?" he asked, already reaching for the room service menu.

"Not hungry."

"You're going to eat now. I don't want you fainting later."

Before Senait could protest, he was on the suite’s phone, ordering in rapid French. She caught bits and pieces, enough to know he was ordering way too much food.

"Come here," he said after hanging up, patting the space next to him on the other side of the couch.

Senait shook her head. "I'm fine where I am."

"Senait." His voice dropped lower, taking on that tone that seemed to bypass her brain and go straight to her clit. "Come here."

Damn him, she thought, even as she found herself moving toward him. Jules wasted no time pulling her against his chest, arranging her exactly how he wanted her.

"I don't do cuddling," she protested weakly.

"You do now," he replied simply, his hand stroking slowly up and down her arm. "Relax."

Gradually, despite herself, Senait felt her body melting into his warmth. They talked about nothing and everything – his frustration with the match, her work, the best cafes in Paris. She found herself enjoying his company more than she wanted to admit.

He's annoying, she thought, even as she nestled closer. So bossy and sure of himself. But remembering their night together after the engagement party, how he'd taken control with such easy confidence, how he seemed to know exactly what she needed... maybe bossy wasn't such a bad thing.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Jules murmured, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

"Just thinking about how annoying you are," Senait replied honestly, making him laugh.

"And yet here you are, in Paris, in my arms."

"Don't get too cocky."

"Too late for that, chérie." His voice held that dominant edge that made her pulse quicken. "I already know exactly what I want, and I usually get it."

Senait turned her head to look at him. Yeah, Jules definitely knew what he wanted. And God help her, she was starting to think she might want it too.

"You weren't like this at the engagement party," she observed, studying his profile. "All dominant and bossy."

Jules' laugh was low and rich. "Had to reel you in first, didn't I? Don't worry, chérie, you'll get used to it."

"Bold of you to assume I'll stick around long enough to—"

A knock at the door cut her off. Jules untangled himself from her, the loss of his warmth immediate and, annoyingly, noticeable. He answered the door with that easy confidence of his, greeting the waiter in French and gesturing him inside.

The waiter wheeled in a cart, lifting silver covers to reveal what was possibly the most luxurious version of comfort food Senait had ever seen – perfectly constructed burgers, golden fries, steaming French onion soup, and what looked like a sinfully rich chocolate dessert.

After tipping the waiter and closing the door, Jules arranged her plate in front of her with a flourish. "Want ketchup?"

"No, I'm good."

Jules pressed a hand to his chest in mock horror. "You're just going to rawdog the fries? No sauce at all?"

"Did you really just say 'rawdog'?" Senait laughed, picking up a fry. "And yes, I am. Die mad about it."

"Uncultured," he teased, settling back beside her with his own plate.

They fell into easy conversation as they ate, Jules telling her about the match ("That ref was clearly wearing an Italy jersey under his uniform") and Senait filling him in on the office drama she was missing ("My coworker definitely scheduled these trainings just so she could take over my project").

Then, casual as anything, Jules said, "When we're done eating, I want you naked on the bed."

Senait choked on her Coke, barely avoiding spraying it across the room. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me." He took another bite of his burger, the picture of nonchalance.

Senait blinked slowly, opened her mouth, closed it again. She stared at him, but Jules just continued eating, acting like he hadn't just short-circuited her brain with eight words.

The audacity of this man, she thought, even as heat pooled in her belly. She forced herself to focus on her food, very aware of the growing tension in the room.

They finished their food in charged silence, Senait taking her sweet time with the last few fries, Jules watching her with growing impatience. When she finally set down her napkin, Jules fixed her with a look, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Senait..."

"Yes?" She blinked at him innocently, as if she hadn't spent the last ten minutes deliberately ignoring his earlier command.

His eyes darkened. "You're testing me."

"I'm just enjoying my dinner," she said primly, examining her nails. The defiance was instinctive – she'd never been good at taking orders, even ones that made her pulse race.

Jules leaned forward, his voice dropping to that tone that seemed to vibrate through her. "I'm not in the mood for games tonight. The match has me frustrated enough." His accent thickened as he continued, "I told you where I want you. Don't make me say it again."

Senait remained in her seat, raising an eyebrow. She wasn't about to give up control that easily, even if part of her was dying to comply.

"Un." His voice was dangerously soft.

She crossed her legs.

"Deux."

Her heartbeat quickened, but she held her ground.

"Tr—"

"Fine," Senait huffed, standing up. As she walked toward the bed, she heard him mutter under his breath in French, something about fucking the defiance right out of her.

Senait sauntered over to the bed, her hips swaying defiantly. She took her time undressing, piece by piece, her eyes never leaving Jules. Each discarded article was an unspoken taunt, a silent reminder that she wasn’t one to simply submit. Finally, she lay back on the sheets, her skin warm under the soft glow of the room’s ambient lighting.

Jules, still perched on the couch, watched her with barely restrained impatience, the muscle in his jaw ticking. He rose slowly, crossing the distance between them, and pulled off his sneakers with methodical precision, followed by his tracksuit and then his underwear. Even though she’d seen his body before, it never failed to stir something deep in her.

He approached the bed, climbing onto it with a confident grace, settling between her legs. His large hands pushed her thighs apart, spreading her wide so he could take in every inch of her exposed pussy. His gaze was heavy, almost reverent, and he reached out to touch her, fingers trailing along her wet folds.

A low chuckle escaped him. "You’re always so fucking wet for me."

Senait’s breath hitched as he spit onto her pussy, the added slickness making her shiver in anticipation. And then his mouth was on her, lips and tongue working her in ways that sent sparks of pleasure racing up her spine. He sucked at her clit, teasing and tugging with his teeth before soothing with long, lazy licks. His fingers slid inside her, curling in just the right way that had her arching off the bed, a strangled moan slipping from her lips.

He added another finger, stretching her, filling her in a way that made her head spin. Each flick of his tongue, each thrust of his hand, was deliberate and skilled. Senait felt herself unraveling under his touch, fully understanding how addictive this man could be. He was so good at this, at drawing out her pleasure until she was trembling and gasping, her nails digging into the sheets.

Jules eventually kissed his way up her body, pausing to circle her nipple with his tongue, sucking lightly before continuing upward. When he finally reached her mouth, he kissed her sloppily, taking complete control. His lips claimed hers with a hunger that left her breathless, and she knew her mouth would be swollen later. His hands gripped her waist, holding her steady as he devoured her, leaving no space between their bodies.

Pulling back just slightly, Jules slid off the bed to grab a condom from his tracksuit. Senait’s heart raced as she watched him, every movement of his toned body another tease. He rolled the condom on with practiced ease, standing at the foot of the bed, his dark eyes locked on hers.

With one firm tug, he pulled her toward him by her ankle. Her body slid across the sheets effortlessly, and he leaned down to kiss her again, his mouth hot and demanding. Then he lined himself up, pressing into her in one fluid motion, filling her completely.

Senait moaned, the feeling of him inside her overwhelming. He set a punishing pace, his thrusts deep and relentless, each one making her cry out. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, her breathless moans, and his low groans of pleasure.

"Look at you," Jules said, his voice husky, full of heat. "Taking me so well. Like you were made for this."

His dirty talk had her shuddering, her body tightening around him. He lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist as he kept driving into her, never breaking his rhythm. The power in his movements, the way he controlled her so effortlessly, had her surrendering completely, her mind foggy with pleasure.

Her small frame was no challenge to his much larger one, and all she could do was hold on, gasping and moaning as he held her tight. Her nails scraped down his back, and he hissed, the sound only spurring him on.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he whispered, his voice a mix of English and the occasional French phrase, his words rough and dirty. "So tight, so perfect."

Senait’s world narrowed to the feeling of him, the heat and pressure and the way he filled her up. Every thrust pushed her closer to the edge, her mind a haze of desire. She was lost to him, and she never wanted to be found.

Jules’s grip tightened on Senait’s ass as he thrust into her with a controlled intensity, his body pressed so firmly against hers that she could feel every ridge of his muscles. The friction between them was overwhelming, pushing her closer and closer to the brink. Her moans grew louder, her hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor herself.

"Jules," she gasped, her voice breaking as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot that made her toes curl.

He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "Yeah? You gonna come for me, bébé." The way he spoke, his deep voice dripping with authority, sent a shiver down her spine. His words were a command, not a question, and she could only nod, too breathless to respond.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, his lips trailing down her neck, his accent thick and his breath warm. "Let me feel you."

The combination of his thrusts, the heat of his skin, and the praise sent her spiraling. Senait’s body arched, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave. Her cries echoed through the room, and Jules groaned, feeling her clench around him. He slowed his pace, drawing out her pleasure, his own body straining as he held himself back.

When she finally came down from her high, her limbs felt boneless, her body buzzing with satisfaction. Jules kissed her deeply, his hands roaming over her curves, grounding them both. But he wasn’t done yet. His thrusts picked up speed again, his grip on her ass firm as he chased his own release.

"Fuck," he bit out, his voice tight with pleasure. With a final thrust, he came, his body shuddering as he carefully pressed her down onto the bed. They stayed tangled together, their breaths coming in ragged pants, skin slick with sweat.

For a moment, there was only the sound of their heavy breathing and the quiet rustle of the sheets. Jules pulled out gently, disposing of the condom and then collapsing beside her. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close.

Senait’s head rested on his chest, her fingers lazily tracing patterns over his skin. The silence between them was warm, filled with the afterglow of what had just happened.

"You’re something else, you know that?" he said, his voice low and still laced with a hint of his earlier desire. "So hardheaded."

She laughed softly, the sound vibrating against him. "So I’ve been told."

The Barcelona sun streamed through Jules' windows, painting his living room in warm afternoon light. His phone buzzed with a text from Senait, breaking her latest bout of radio silence:

How's it going?

A smile tugged at his lips. Three days of nothing, and now she pops up like she hadn't disappeared again. Typical Senait.

Jules settled deeper into his couch, memories of Paris flooding back. That weekend had been... intense. After she'd finally given in to his commands that first night, it was like a dam had broken. They'd barely left the hotel room, ordering room service between rounds of what he could only describe as the best sex of his life. He'd had her every way but loose – against the wall, on the balcony (thankfully hidden from view), in the massive shower, bent over the—

His phone buzzed again: Earth to Jules

He smirked, typing back: Just thinking about Paris 😈 💦

S: Stop that

J: Why? I particularly enjoyed that thing you did with your—

S: JULES!!!!

He could practically hear her exasperated tone, picture the way she'd roll her eyes even as a smile played at her lips. That was the thing about Senait – she tried so hard to maintain her walls, but he'd seen behind them. Seen the way she melted under his touch, the way she'd curl into him after, despite her "no cuddling" rule.

The pattern had established itself pretty quickly after Paris. She'd ghost him for a few days, then pop up with a text or call like nothing had happened. At first, it had frustrated him – he wasn't used to women playing hard to get, especially not after sleeping with him. But Senait wasn't playing anything. This was just who she was: fiercely independent, resistant to attachment, and absolutely terrified of letting anyone too close.

Their late-night FaceTime calls had become his favorite, though. She'd be in her NYC apartment, usually in some oversized t-shirt, hair piled messily on top of her head. No makeup, no pretense. Just Senait, raw and real.

"I don't even know if PR is what I want to do," she'd confessed during one such call, about a week after Paris. "It's my first job out of university, and everyone acts like I should be grateful just to have my foot in the door, but..."

"But?" he'd prompted, watching her fidget with her sleeve.

"But sometimes I feel like I'm just going through the motions. Like I'm doing what's expected instead of what I want."

"And what do you want?"

She'd gone quiet then, chewing her bottom lip. "That's the problem. I don't know."

Jules had listened as she talked about her frustrations – the office politics, the endless meetings about meetings, the feeling of being stuck in a role she'd fallen into rather than chosen. He'd offered advice when asked, but mostly he just let her vent.

These were the moments that got to him the most. Not the sex (though that was incredible), not the witty banter (though he lived for it), but these quiet moments of vulnerability. When Senait would let her guard down just enough to show him the uncertainties beneath her confident exterior.

His phone lit up with another text:

Work is kicking my ass this week

Come to Barcelona, he typed back without hesitation. Take a break 👀

There was a long pause before her response:

S: Jules...

J: I'm serious. You can work remote, no?

S: It's not that simple

J: I'll make it simple. Let me take care of everything

Another pause. He could almost see her internal debate playing out.

S: I can't just drop everything and run to Barcelona

J: Why not?

When she didn't respond immediately, he called her. She answered on the fourth ring.

"Because normal people don't just jet off to different countries on a whim," she said by way of greeting.

"Since when are you normal?" He stretched out on his couch, grinning at her scoff. "Besides, you did it for Paris."

"That was different."

"How?"

"It just was."

Jules hummed, unconvinced. "Sounds like excuses to me. You're scared."

"I am not—"

"You are," he interrupted smoothly. "You're scared because Paris was good. Really good. And now you're worried about what it means that you want to do it again."

The silence that followed told him he'd hit the mark.

"It doesn't have to mean anything," he continued, his voice softening. "Come to Barcelona. Work from here for a week. Let me show you the city. No pressure, no expectations."

"Just a friend showing me around?" Her tone was skeptical.

"A friend who happens to enjoy fucking you senseless, yes."

Her surprised laugh warmed something in his chest. "You're impossible."

"Is that a yes?"

Senait sighed, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "Let me check my calendar."

"Check it now."

"So bossy."

"You love it."

"I tolerate it," she corrected, but he could hear her typing. After a moment: "I might be able to swing next week. My team has another training thing, and I could do it remote..."

"Perfect. I'll send you flight details."

"I haven't said yes yet!"

"But you will." He let his voice drop lower, the way he knew affected her. "Because you can't stop thinking about Paris either."

Her sharp intake of breath confirmed it. "You're very sure of yourself."

"With good reason." He glanced at the time – he had training soon. "Think about it. But not too long. Barcelona's lovely this time of year."

After they hung up, Jules found himself scrolling through his photos, stopping on one he'd snapped in Paris without Senait noticing. She was standing on the hotel balcony, early morning light casting a glow around her, coffee cup in hand as she looked out over the city. Her guard had been down, no poses or pretenses.

That's how he liked her best – real, unfiltered, not running from whatever this thing between them was becoming.

His phone buzzed one more time:

Send me the flight details. But I'm not promising anything.

Jules grinned. She could play hard to get all she wanted, but they both knew she'd end up in Barcelona. And this time, he planned to keep her around a bit longer.

TO BE CONTINUED…..

[emjayewrites]

@127hydrangeas yes get locked in 🔐!!! can’t wait for you all to read the next chapters

in between the lines • jules kounde (1/4)

SYNOPSIS: At Zuri’s engagement party, Senait meets her best friend’s fiancé, Aurélien, and his friend, Jules. A spontaneous hookup with Jules sparks undeniable chemistry, but when Senait ghosts him afterward, she finds herself wrestling with her insecurities as the casual fling begins shifting into something deeper.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Senait Kiros (@/subanbrn)

WARNINGS: football b.s., cursing, smut, drama, mentions of cheating/past relationships, dominant!jules. MINORS DNI (18+)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @vile-harlot @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @essaysbyciara @saturnville @trentswrld @planetmimi @muglermami @shepgurl @sucredreamer @julescpu @tchouathon @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @greedyjudge2

A/N: This is the last 'book' of the "football baes universe". Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. Gif by @doinggreat

Senait arrived at the engagement party with a mix of excitement and nerves. It had been a month since she'd last seen Zuri, and the thought of catching up brought a genuine smile to her face. As she stepped into La Quinta de Jarama, the boho-chic venue adorned with traditional Bamileke décor, warm tones of earthy reds, yellows, and browns enveloped her, showcasing Zuri's style perfectly.

If Pinterest threw up an engagement party, this would be it, Senait thought.

Before she could fully take in the scene, Zuri spotted her and rushed over, wrapping her in a tight embrace.

"Senait!" Zuri's voice was filled with joy, making Senait feel lighter.

"Girl, look at you," Senait teased, pulling back to assess Zuri's radiant outfit. "Fiancé life looks good on you."

Zuri laughed, her happiness infectious. "You're one to talk. Madrid clearly agrees with you."

"It really does," Senait said, smirking as she ran a hand through her curls. "But seriously, it's been too long. I almost forgot what your face looked like."

Zuri rolled her eyes playfully. "Trust me, it's been a whirlwind."

"And now, you're engaged to some guy," Senait teased, glancing around the room. "Where is he?"

"Come on, I'll introduce you," Zuri said, leading the way.

It didn't take long to spot him. Aurélien stood out, not just because of his height and broad shoulders, but because of the calm authority he carried. His traditional Bamileke attire made him look like royalty, the intricate patterns complementing his deep brown skin. There was an ease to the way he held himself, as if he was used to commanding attention without asking for it. His smile when he saw Zuri approach was genuine, and it softened his otherwise sharp features.

"Guys, this is my best friend, Senait," Zuri said, beaming. "Senait, this is Aurélien and his friend Jules."

Senait's gaze shifted to Jules, taking in his athletic build and easy posture. There was an unmistakable grace to his movements, even when standing still. His warm brown eyes held a hint of amusement, and when he spoke, his French accent added a layer of intrigue to his words.

"Enchanté," Jules said, his voice a low, pleasant rumble. There was an undeniable charisma about him, a quiet confidence that caught Senait's attention.

Senait, quickly regaining her composure, turned to Aurélien. "So you're the one who's stolen my Zuri away," she said, eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"Guilty as charged," Aurélien replied, a flicker of self-consciousness crossing his face under her scrutiny.

Before the conversation could continue, the sound of drums filled the air. A group of traditional Bamileke dancers emerged, their colorful costumes a blur of motion as they moved to the rhythmic beat.

Zuri and Aurélien walked through the crowd behind the dancers, their eyes sparkling with excitement. An elder approached them, wrapping their wrists together with some decorative rope—a symbolic gesture that sent a ripple of joy through the onlookers.

Senait stood back, watching the scene unfold, when she felt Jules beside her. His presence was solid, grounding. "So, what do you think of the party?" he said, his accented voice just loud enough to be heard over the music.

She offered him a sidelong glance, intrigued despite herself. "It's vibrant," she replied, her gaze still fixed on Zuri and Aurélien. "Definitely fits Zuri's style."

"And what about you?" Jules asked, a hint of playfulness in his tone. "Is this your style?"

"Please," Senait shot back, her sass evident. "But I'll give credit where it's due. This party is pretty nice."

As the ceremony concluded, the music shifted to a blend of traditional Bamileke rhythms and contemporary beats. Couples began to fill the dance floor, Zuri and Aurélien at the center, laughing as they danced.

Jules turned to Senait, his posture relaxed but purposeful. "Dance with me," he said. It wasn't a question, but neither was it a demand. It was a statement, confident and unhurried.

Senait hesitated, caught off guard by his directness. For a moment, she considered declining, but something—perhaps the magic of the night, or the quiet intensity radiating from Jules—made her reconsider.

"Alright," she said, surprising herself. "But don't expect me to be impressed by any fancy footwork."

A ghost of a smile played on Jules' lips as he guided her to the dance floor, his hand a gentle presence on her lower back. As they began to move to the music, Senait found herself appreciating his natural grace and the way he led without being overbearing.

"You know," she said, unable to resist, "I usually require at least dinner before I dance with a guy I've just met."

Jules chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Then consider this an appetizer," he replied, his accent wrapping around the words in a way that Senait found unexpectedly charming.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, curious now. "An appetizer?" she repeated, her brow lifting slightly in mock skepticism. “I usually have a say in what’s on the menu."

Jules smirked, his fingers brushing a little lower on her back, just enough to make her aware of it. “I’ll take suggestions, then.”

His voice was smooth, unhurried. There was something about the way he spoke, the way he let the moment stretch without feeling the need to fill it with more words, that made Senait feel… at ease. In control, but not entirely. It was an interesting push and pull, and she found herself leaning into it more than she thought she would.

As the song continued, she let her eyes wander over him, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the hint of stubble on his chin, and the quiet intensity in his eyes. There was something about him—something that was drawing her in without her fully realizing it. He wasn’t overbearing, wasn’t rushing, but the attraction was there, simmering just under the surface.

He caught her looking and smirked, just enough to let her know he noticed, but not enough to make it awkward. “I get the feeling you don’t do this often.”

“I don’t,” she admitted, tilting her head as if considering him. “But you’re making it hard to resist.”

He leaned in a little closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Good. I’m not here to rush you. Just enjoying the moment.”

There it was again—his calm, unhurried confidence, the way he made it feel like this was just a natural flow. She could sense his attraction to her in the small, unspoken cues: the way his fingers subtly tightened around her waist, the way he mirrored her movements without overshadowing them. He was giving her room to play, and the more she danced with him, the more she liked the way he let her set the pace.

And, if she was being honest, the longer they stayed pressed together like this, the more her thoughts began to shift. She hadn’t come to the party thinking about anyone—least of all hooking up with someone. But Jules was… intriguing. Sexy, in a quiet way. His energy was just different, and that difference was starting to get to her.

Her mind flickered briefly to the idea of what it would be like later, when the music stopped and the space between them closed. She wasn’t against it—the casual hookup, the fun of it. She just hadn’t planned on it tonight. Yet, with the way his body moved so seamlessly with hers, it was hard not to imagine how good it could feel to let herself indulge in him.

Jules seemed to pick up on the shift in her thoughts, but, true to form, he didn’t push. He kept the same steady, self-assured energy, his eyes never leaving hers. His presence was like a quiet challenge, letting her know he was here if she wanted, but he wouldn’t be the one to say it first.

Senait bit her lip, feeling the weight of the moment settle in between them. She didn’t need to say anything.

As the music shifted to an upbeat Afrobeats track, the atmosphere transformed. The infectious rhythm filled the air, drawing people in, and Senait felt herself responding to the beat instinctively. She turned to Jules, a mischievous smile spreading across her face.

Without thinking, she pressed her body against him, swaying her hips in time with the music in a slow whine. Jules’s eyes widened slightly, a spark igniting in his gaze as he adjusted to her new boldness. His hands found her waist again, but this time, he let her lead, mirroring her movements, their bodies fitting together as if they were made for this.

“You’ve got some moves,” he said, his voice low, laced with amusement as he followed her rhythm.

“Maybe you just bring it out of me,” she teased, glancing back over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of the hunger in his eyes.

“I’m not complaining,” he replied, his smirk growing. There was something about the way he watched her—intently, with a hint of challenge—as if daring her to take it even further.

The heat between them intensified as she moved, her body brushing against him, a grind that sent shivers through her. She could feel the tension in his grip, the way he held her close but left just enough space for her to take charge. It was intoxicating, the freedom to explore without pressure.

Senait turned slightly, catching his gaze again, and the world around them seemed to fade away. “So, what’s next?” she asked, her voice playful, as if they were in on a secret.

Jules leaned in, his lips nearly brushing her ear, his breath warm and inviting. “That depends on you. I’m just here for the ride.”

With that, she tilted her head back, feeling emboldened. The air around them pulsed with energy, and for a fleeting moment, the possibilities stretched out before her. She could indulge in the thrill of this connection, let herself be swept away in the music and the heat between them.

“Then let’s see how far this ride goes,” she replied, her words a silent promise as she led him off the dance floor.

Senait took his hand, threading them both through the crowd as a pulse of adrenaline buzzed through her veins. The party around them felt like a blur—glamorous guests, laughter, the warm hum of celebration—but she only had eyes for Jules. They slipped into a quiet hallway near the restrooms, and before she could talk herself out of it, she tugged him into the nearest one, the door clicking shut behind them.

Her back hit the door, and she exhaled, half laughing at her own recklessness, half consumed by the anticipation simmering between them. “This is crazy,” she whispered, her voice hushed but thrilled. “Hooking up at my best friend’s engagement party with a stranger.”

Jules’s hands found her waist, and his lips curved into that lazy, self-assured smile that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, it is,” he murmured, leaning in, his breath warm against her skin. “But you’re still here.”

Before she could come up with a witty response, he kissed her, and the world seemed to tilt. His mouth was warm, hungry, and she melted into him, every inch of her body attuned to the way he pressed against her. She reached up, fingers tangling in his locs as he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer.

God, it had been so long since she felt like this—desired, wanted. Her ex had a way of making her feel small, crushing her confidence piece by piece with infidelity and careless words. But here, now, with Jules… she felt different. Powerful. Desired. It was a high she didn’t want to come down from.

Jules’s hands roamed over her hips, slipping under the hem of her dress. His touch was firm but reverent, making her shiver as he pushed the fabric higher. When his fingers brushed over her panties, he groaned into her mouth when he felt the dampness there. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice thick with want. “You’re so wet.”

Her heart stuttered, and she arched into him, wanting more, needing more. His fingers teased her, making her gasp as he explored the heat between her legs. She could feel herself losing control, her head spinning from his touch, but he pulled back slightly, just enough to leave her breathless.

His forehead rested against hers, and he exhaled a shaky laugh. “We should probably save this for later,” he said, though the regret in his voice told her just how badly he wanted to keep going. “Before I forget we’re still at a party.”

Senait’s lips curled into a smirk, but her cheeks were flushed, and her body was still buzzing with electricity. “You’re right,” she breathed, trying to catch her breath. “But you owe me.”

His thumb brushed across her lower lip, his gaze heated. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

They straightened themselves out, laughter spilling between them as they tried to look less disheveled before heading back out. The noise of the party hit them again, and Senait immediately grabbed a drink from a passing caterer’s tray, downing two shots of tequila in quick succession to steady herself. A flicker of doubt threatened to creep in, but she swallowed it down, reminding herself she deserved this—a night of fun, of feeling wanted.

She glanced over at Jules, who had joined Aurélien and Zuri as they opened engagement gifts. Zuri was radiant, glowing with happiness, and Senait felt a twinge of guilt for sneaking away during such a special moment. But then she reminded herself: Zuri would understand. Maybe even laugh about it later.

Jules caught her gaze, his eyes warm and inviting, and she felt her pulse quicken again. Gathering her courage, she walked over, reaching for his hand. But just as she was about to pull him onto the dance floor, an announcement rang out, signaling the start of the farewell ceremony.

Jules leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. “Ready to get out of here?” he murmured, the question sending a thrill straight through her.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

With one last look at her friend, she followed Jules out, the promise of whatever came next leaving her feeling more alive than she had in ages.

Senait and Jules slipped into the back of the Uber, and the car pulled away from the venue, the city lights blurring as anticipation curled between them. The silence crackled, thick with the energy of what they had started back at the party, but they didn’t need words. Jules kept her hand in his, his thumb brushing circles over her knuckles, and every stroke sent little sparks along her skin.

By the time they arrived at his hotel, the tension had built to an unbearable crescendo. He led her through the lobby, the cool air of the space doing nothing to soothe the heat pulsing through her. His suite door barely clicked shut before he spun her around, pressing her back against the wall.

“Where were we?” Jules murmured, his voice husky, eyes dark and wanting.

Before she could answer, his lips claimed hers, and she melted. His fingers slid beneath the fabric of her dress, tugging it up and over her head in one smooth motion. He stepped back, drinking her in, and she felt the weight of his gaze, how mesmerized he was by her body. It seemed crazy—insane—that someone like him could look at her that way, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable.

“Damn,” he whispered, reverence thick in his voice. His hands found her breasts, caressing the soft curves before sliding down to cup her ass, pulling her flush against him to help her ease out of her thong.

A shiver ran through her, and she reached for his shirt, eager to even the playing field, but he caught her wrists, playfully swatting her hands away. “Nah,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You don’t get to do all that shit here. I’m the boss tonight.”

His words sent a fresh wave of arousal surging through her, and she felt herself getting wetter, if that was even possible. He guided her to the bed, laying her down gently, and she surrendered to the way he looked at her—like he was savoring every inch.

He took his time, kissing a path down her neck, over her collarbone, and lower, until he was between her thighs. Her breath caught as his tongue found her clit, teasing and circling with expert precision. Her back arched, a moan slipping from her lips as he sucked, licked, and explored, driving her wild with pleasure. Every touch was a new kind of bliss, his name tumbling from her mouth as she lost herself in the rhythm he set.

When she was on the edge, trembling with need, Jules pulled back, leaving her gasping, and quickly undressed. He reached for his suitcase, rummaging for a condom. Tearing the packet open, he rolled it on, his gaze never leaving hers. Senait smiled appreciatively at his thick length and the muscled planes of his athletic body.

He went back to the bed and hovered over her, his voice dropping into that low, sexy timbre. “Ready?” he asked, and she nodded, her body aching for him.

With one swift, smooth motion, he entered her, filling her completely. She clung to him, overwhelmed by the sensation, and he began to move, rocking into her with a perfect, relentless rhythm.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. “Tu te sens si bien. So perfect.”

Her nails scraped down his back, and he groaned, the sound sending shivers across her skin. “Keep talking,” she managed to say, her own voice breathless.

“Je veux que tu ressentes tout ça,” he continued, his accent wrapping around her like a caress. “Every bit of it.”

He kept his pace steady, his hips rolling into hers as he guided her through every wave of pleasure, whispering words that made her body sing. Senait lost herself in the moment, in him.

Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, each thrust sending Senait closer to the edge. She clung to him, savoring every second, the intensity building until it finally shattered. She cried out his name as her orgasm took over, and he followed shortly after, his deep groan vibrating through her.

The room fell quiet except for the sound of their heavy breathing. Jules gently pulled away and disposed of the condom before sliding back into bed beside her.

“Damn,” Senait muttered, a lazy grin spreading across her face. “That was… something else.” The best dick I had in awhile….

Jules chuckled. “Yeah, it was.” His fingers lazily traced patterns along her arm, and for a few minutes, they lay in a comfortable, post-bliss silence. Then, he broke it, his voice curious. “So, tell me about yourself. What’s your story, Senait?”

She tilted her head to look up at him, amused. “My story? That’s a loaded question for after sex.”

He laughed, and the sound was so genuine it made her smile. “Fair point. Maybe just the basics, then? Where you’re from, what you do.”

She shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow. “Alright. I’m from New York, but my parents are from Eritrea."

He raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Habesha girl, huh?"

Senait couldn’t help but laugh, a warm sound that filled the room. "Yeah," she nodded, her curls bouncing slightly. "You know about Eritrea?"

"A bit,” he admitted, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Enough to know Habesha girls are known to be trouble."

She laughed again, rolling her eyes. "Oh, is that what you heard?"

"Mm-hmm," he teased, catching one of her hands and bringing it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “But I think I like a bit of trouble."

She felt her heart do a small flip, a flutter that caught her off guard. But she masked it with a smirk. "Well, you don’t seem so innocent yourself, Jules."

He chuckled, his gaze holding hers, and for a second, the playful exchange melted into something deeper. It made her chest tighten, but she didn’t hate the feeling.

"What about you?" she asked, shifting to face him more.

"I was born in France but my dad is from Benin,” he replied, his tone softening. “And my mom made sure I knew my roots."

She smiled, the kind of smile that reached her eyes. "That’s beautiful."

They fell into an easy rhythm of conversation, swapping stories about family traditions, favorite childhood meals, and dreams of places they still wanted to see. He shared little quirks about himself—like how he had a weird obsession with trying out different hot sauces—and she couldn’t help but giggle.

"Hot sauce? Really?" she teased, her laughter melting the last bit of tension between them.

"Hey," he said with mock seriousness. "Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it."

After another round, they eventually decided to call it a night and sleep claimed them both before either one could object.

_____________________________________________

Senait squinted at her phone screen, the bright light offensive to her barely-awake eyes. 10:47 AM. Shit.

She carefully extracted herself from Jules' warm embrace, pausing as he stirred slightly before settling back into deep sleep. Sunlight streamed through his bedroom window, catching the defined planes of his back. Senait allowed herself a moment of appreciation – both for the view and for the memories of the night before.

All that from some hip movements and good conversation, she thought, amused at herself as she searched for her clothes.

She found her dress first, then her thong, silently congratulating herself on her decision to wear the simple black one instead of anything complicated. Her heels could stay where they'd landed last night – she wasn't about to risk clicking across his floor at this hour. The clutch, thankfully, was right by the door.

One last glance at Jules' sleeping form, and she slipped out, ordering an Uber as she made her way down in the elevator. The morning air hit her skin, fresh and crisp, a stark contrast to the heat of last night's memories.

Back at her hotel, Senait stepped into a scalding shower, watching as water sluiced away the evidence of the night before. Jules' cologne had lingered on her skin, and part of her was reluctant to wash it away. Now you're really being ridiculous, she chided herself.

Another Uber, another ride across Madrid. As she approached Aurélien's impressive front gates – definitely a footballer's house – she pressed the intercom button.

"YOU BETTER TELL ME EVERYTHING!" Zuri's voice crackled through the speaker, followed by the immediate buzz of the gate opening.

Senait walked up the path, taking in the manicured gardens and modern architecture. Before she could even reach the door, Zuri burst out, practically vibrating with excitement.

"You disappeared!" Zuri exclaimed, pulling her inside. "One minute you're dancing with Jules, looking like something out of a music video, and the next – poof!"

Senait couldn't help but laugh at her friend's enthusiasm. "Sorry about that. Your engagement party was lovely, by the way."

"Oh, don't even try to change the subject," Zuri said, steering them toward the kitchen. "Coffee first, then details. All of them."

As Zuri busied herself with the coffee maker, Senait settled onto one of the sleek barstools, grinning at her friend's obvious curiosity. The morning sun streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating a kitchen that looked like it belonged in a magazine.

"So," Zuri said, sliding a steaming mug across the counter. "Jules, huh?"

"Jules," Senait confirmed, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic. "Let's just say... those football skills translate well to other activities."

Zuri's eyes widened with delight. "I knew it! The way you two were moving together... I had to do a double-take!"

"Says the woman who was basically giving Aurélien a lap dance by the end of the night."

"Hey, he's my fiancé, I'm allowed!" Zuri protested, laughing. "But seriously, I've never seen you like that with anyone. Jules must be something special."

Senait took a long sip of her coffee, considering. "He's... interesting," she admitted. "But don't go planning another engagement party just yet."

As Zuri leaned forward, eager for more details, Senait settled in for what promised to be a thorough interrogation. At least the coffee was good.

"You can't just ghost people like that, Sen," Zuri was saying, her voice taking on that familiar lecturing tone. "Especially not good guys like Jules."

Senait shrugged, taking another long sip of her coffee. "I'm focused on myself right now. Not looking to complicate things."

"That's such a cop-out and you know it—"

The sound of the front door opening cut off Zuri's impending sermon. Aurélien's voice echoed through the house, followed by footsteps and – Senait's stomach did an unexpected flip – a familiar French-accented laugh.

Of course, Senait thought, maintaining her composure even as her pulse quickened. Of course he'd be with Aurélien.

Jules appeared in the kitchen doorway behind Aurélien, looking unfairly good in track pants and a fitted t-shirt. His hair was damp from a shower, and in his hands were her abandoned Louboutins.

"I found this, Cinderella," Jules teased, his eyes dancing with amusement as he held up the heels.

Senait rolled her eyes, but she couldn't quite suppress the smile tugging at her lips. "How original," she drawled, sliding off the barstool to retrieve her shoes. "I'm sure you've been waiting all morning to use that line."

"Actually, I had a few others prepared," Jules replied, not releasing the shoes immediately when she reached for them. Their fingers brushed, and Senait tried to ignore the tiny spark of electricity that shot through her at the contact. "But I thought I'd save those for when you're not running away."

From the corner of her eye, Senait could see Zuri and Aurélien exchanging looks. Aurélien had moved to lean against the counter, his arm around Zuri's waist, both of them watching the exchange like it was their favorite TV show.

"Bold of you to assume I'm running," Senait said, finally securing her heels. "Maybe I just had better things to do."

Jules stepped closer, just enough to make her have to tilt her head back slightly to maintain eye contact. "Better than breakfast?" he asked, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "I know a place that makes excellent crêpes."

"Does that line usually work?"

"You tell me."

Senait was acutely aware of their audience, could practically feel Zuri vibrating with anticipation across the kitchen. But something in Jules' steady gaze made it hard to look away, hard to maintain her usual wall of detachment.

"I don't normally do breakfast," she said finally, but her voice lacked its usual firmness.

"Lunch then," Jules countered smoothly. "Or dinner. I'm not picky about meal times."

A snort of laughter from Zuri's direction broke the moment. Senait glanced over to see her friend hastily trying to compose her face into something neutral, while Aurélien didn't even bother hiding his grin.

"Don't mind us," Aurélien said, raising his hands when Senait shot him a look. "We're just here for the show."

"Glad we could entertain," Senait deadpanned, but she could feel warmth creeping up her neck. This wasn't how her morning-after escapes usually went.

Jules hadn't moved away, his presence a warm, solid thing behind her. "So?" he prompted. "What's it going to be? Because I can keep going. I have all day, and Aurélien just restocked his coffee."

"You're persistent," Senait observed, turning back to face him.

"You're worth persisting for."

Zuri made a sound that could only be described as a squeal, quickly muffled against Aurélien's shoulder. Senait ignored her, focusing instead on the earnest look in Jules' eyes, the slight vulnerability beneath his confident exterior.

This could be dangerous, she thought. But for the first time in a long time, the danger felt more thrilling than threatening.

"Fine," she said finally. "Dinner. But I'm choosing the place."

The smile that spread across Jules' face made something warm unfurl in her chest. "Deal."

"Oh my God, this is better than Netflix," Zuri whispered loudly to Aurélien, who chuckled and pressed a kiss to her temple.

Senait picked up her coffee cup again, hiding her own smile behind it. Maybe mornings after weren't so bad after all.

Monday morning found Jules stretched out on his hotel bed in Clairefontaine, absently scrolling through his phone while his teammates' voices echoed from the hallway. His thumb hovered over Senait's contact for what felt like the hundredth time.

The weekend's memories kept playing through his mind: the way she moved against him at the engagement party, her quick wit, that laugh that seemed to catch him by surprise. And then... nothing. Radio silence. Again.

Aurélien had been sent back to his hotel in Paris with a foot sprain, leaving Jules alone with his thoughts. Maybe he should cut his losses. Women usually made it clear they were interested in him – perks of being a professional footballer – but Senait? She was different. Challenging. Made him work for it.

And maybe that's exactly why you can't stop thinking about her, he mused, remembering their verbal sparring, the way she'd match him comment for comment, never backing down.

Jules smiled despite himself. He'd always preferred the chase, and Senait definitely wasn't making it easy. His mind wandered to possibilities – maybe he could get her to Paris, or even Barcelona. The thought of showing her around, seeing that sharp wit directed at his favorite places...

Fuck it, he thought, hitting the call button before he could talk himself out of it.

One ring. Two. Three. He was about to hang up when—

"Hello?" Senait's voice came through, sounding both surprised and slightly amused.

"So she does answer her phone," Jules teased, settling back against his pillows. "How's New York treating you?"

A soft sigh. "It's there. I'm tired. Really not feeling work tomorrow."

"Public relations, right?" He couldn't keep the smugness out of his voice.

"I see Zuri's been running her mouth," Senait scoffed.

"Ease up on my sister-in-law. She's just being a good friend, looking out for you."

"She's trying to play matchmaker."

"And what if she is?" Jules challenged, his voice dropping lower.

"Listen," Senait started, and he could practically see her straightening up, preparing for battle. "You seem like a good guy, Jules. But I'm not looking for a relationship right now. And even if I was, the distance? Come on. You're in France, I'm in New York, then you're in Barcelona—"

"Who said anything about a relationship?" Jules interrupted, smirking. "We can be friends. Friends who occasionally fuck."

Senait's laugh burst through the phone, genuine and surprised. "You're impossible."

"I've been called worse," he said, then added more seriously, "But I hear your warnings. I just don't give a shit."

"Jules—"

"How soon can you see me?"

A pause. "It'll be a while."

"Don't you work remote sometimes?" he pressed, remembering another tidbit from Zuri.

Senait's sigh was heavy with resignation. "Fridays and Mondays."

"Perfect. I'm going to wire you some money. Book a flight."

"No—"

"That wasn't a question, chérie. That was a demand."

Before she could protest further, Jules ended the call, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. He immediately opened his banking app, then sent her a quick text with the transfer details.

His phone buzzed almost immediately:

You're fucking crazy.

Jules' smile widened as he typed back:

Crazy about that ass. Book the flight. 😜

Putting his phone down, he laced his fingers behind his head, feeling more energized than he had all day. Senait could protest all she wanted, but he'd seen the way she looked at him, felt how she responded to his touch. She might be running, but Jules was more than ready for a chase.

And he had a feeling the prize would be worth every step.

________________________________________

Senait slouched deeper into the couch, balancing her laptop on her knees as she clicked through another IT training module. The Parisian afternoon light filtered through the curtains, a constant reminder that she'd actually done it – actually let Jules fly her out to Paris.

This wasn't part of the plan, she thought, absently picking at the remains of her breakfast croissant. The past week had been a constant back-and-forth in her mind, her finger hovering over the "book flight" button more times than she cared to admit.

This was supposed to be her time. Finding herself, exploring her interests, having fun without complications. But then again...

You can have fun with a fine-ass footballer who wants to fly you out and dick you down, her inner voice reasoned. That's technically self-care.

She hadn't told Zuri about any of this. Her best friend had enough on her plate with Aurélien's sprained foot and her father being... well, being Ernest. Senait had never liked that man, but that was neither here nor there at the moment.

At least the red-eye flight timing had worked in her favor. These self-guided trainings meant she could take it easy, and by 2 PM, she'd finally finished the last module. After polishing off her leftover breakfast, exhaustion hit her like a wave. She stretched out on the couch, telling herself she'd just rest her eyes for a moment.

What happened to be hours later, the sound of a keycard in the door jolted her awake. Before she could fully orient herself, Jules was already entering, still in his national team tracksuit with a duffel bag over his shoulder.

"You could've at least knocked," Senait said, voice raspy with sleep as she sat up.

Jules clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he dropped the bag near the bed. "Is that how you greet me?" His accent was thicker tonight, his voice carrying that commanding tone that made something flutter in her stomach.

Finally focusing properly, Senait took him in – he looked tired, a bit frustrated, but somehow still unfairly attractive. "Rough match?"

"Lost to Italy. 3-1," he said, dropping his bag by the door. "Not our best showing."

"I saw some highlights," she lied, having accidentally slept through the entire thing.

Jules shot her a knowing look. "The drool on your chin says otherwise."

Senait quickly wiped at her face, making him laugh. "Have you eaten?" he asked, already reaching for the room service menu.

"Not hungry."

"You're going to eat now. I don't want you fainting later."

Before Senait could protest, he was on the suite’s phone, ordering in rapid French. She caught bits and pieces, enough to know he was ordering way too much food.

"Come here," he said after hanging up, patting the space next to him on the other side of the couch.

Senait shook her head. "I'm fine where I am."

"Senait." His voice dropped lower, taking on that tone that seemed to bypass her brain and go straight to her clit. "Come here."

Damn him, she thought, even as she found herself moving toward him. Jules wasted no time pulling her against his chest, arranging her exactly how he wanted her.

"I don't do cuddling," she protested weakly.

"You do now," he replied simply, his hand stroking slowly up and down her arm. "Relax."

Gradually, despite herself, Senait felt her body melting into his warmth. They talked about nothing and everything – his frustration with the match, her work, the best cafes in Paris. She found herself enjoying his company more than she wanted to admit.

He's annoying, she thought, even as she nestled closer. So bossy and sure of himself. But remembering their night together after the engagement party, how he'd taken control with such easy confidence, how he seemed to know exactly what she needed... maybe bossy wasn't such a bad thing.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Jules murmured, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

"Just thinking about how annoying you are," Senait replied honestly, making him laugh.

"And yet here you are, in Paris, in my arms."

"Don't get too cocky."

"Too late for that, chérie." His voice held that dominant edge that made her pulse quicken. "I already know exactly what I want, and I usually get it."

Senait turned her head to look at him. Yeah, Jules definitely knew what he wanted. And God help her, she was starting to think she might want it too.

"You weren't like this at the engagement party," she observed, studying his profile. "All dominant and bossy."

Jules' laugh was low and rich. "Had to reel you in first, didn't I? Don't worry, chérie, you'll get used to it."

"Bold of you to assume I'll stick around long enough to—"

A knock at the door cut her off. Jules untangled himself from her, the loss of his warmth immediate and, annoyingly, noticeable. He answered the door with that easy confidence of his, greeting the waiter in French and gesturing him inside.

The waiter wheeled in a cart, lifting silver covers to reveal what was possibly the most luxurious version of comfort food Senait had ever seen – perfectly constructed burgers, golden fries, steaming French onion soup, and what looked like a sinfully rich chocolate dessert.

After tipping the waiter and closing the door, Jules arranged her plate in front of her with a flourish. "Want ketchup?"

"No, I'm good."

Jules pressed a hand to his chest in mock horror. "You're just going to rawdog the fries? No sauce at all?"

"Did you really just say 'rawdog'?" Senait laughed, picking up a fry. "And yes, I am. Die mad about it."

"Uncultured," he teased, settling back beside her with his own plate.

They fell into easy conversation as they ate, Jules telling her about the match ("That ref was clearly wearing an Italy jersey under his uniform") and Senait filling him in on the office drama she was missing ("My coworker definitely scheduled these trainings just so she could take over my project").

Then, casual as anything, Jules said, "When we're done eating, I want you naked on the bed."

Senait choked on her Coke, barely avoiding spraying it across the room. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me." He took another bite of his burger, the picture of nonchalance.

Senait blinked slowly, opened her mouth, closed it again. She stared at him, but Jules just continued eating, acting like he hadn't just short-circuited her brain with eight words.

The audacity of this man, she thought, even as heat pooled in her belly. She forced herself to focus on her food, very aware of the growing tension in the room.

They finished their food in charged silence, Senait taking her sweet time with the last few fries, Jules watching her with growing impatience. When she finally set down her napkin, Jules fixed her with a look, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Senait..."

"Yes?" She blinked at him innocently, as if she hadn't spent the last ten minutes deliberately ignoring his earlier command.

His eyes darkened. "You're testing me."

"I'm just enjoying my dinner," she said primly, examining her nails. The defiance was instinctive – she'd never been good at taking orders, even ones that made her pulse race.

Jules leaned forward, his voice dropping to that tone that seemed to vibrate through her. "I'm not in the mood for games tonight. The match has me frustrated enough." His accent thickened as he continued, "I told you where I want you. Don't make me say it again."

Senait remained in her seat, raising an eyebrow. She wasn't about to give up control that easily, even if part of her was dying to comply.

"Un." His voice was dangerously soft.

She crossed her legs.

"Deux."

Her heartbeat quickened, but she held her ground.

"Tr—"

"Fine," Senait huffed, standing up. As she walked toward the bed, she heard him mutter under his breath in French, something about fucking the defiance right out of her.

Senait sauntered over to the bed, her hips swaying defiantly. She took her time undressing, piece by piece, her eyes never leaving Jules. Each discarded article was an unspoken taunt, a silent reminder that she wasn’t one to simply submit. Finally, she lay back on the sheets, her skin warm under the soft glow of the room’s ambient lighting.

Jules, still perched on the couch, watched her with barely restrained impatience, the muscle in his jaw ticking. He rose slowly, crossing the distance between them, and pulled off his sneakers with methodical precision, followed by his tracksuit and then his underwear. Even though she’d seen his body before, it never failed to stir something deep in her.

He approached the bed, climbing onto it with a confident grace, settling between her legs. His large hands pushed her thighs apart, spreading her wide so he could take in every inch of her exposed pussy. His gaze was heavy, almost reverent, and he reached out to touch her, fingers trailing along her wet folds.

A low chuckle escaped him. "You’re always so fucking wet for me."

Senait’s breath hitched as he spit onto her pussy, the added slickness making her shiver in anticipation. And then his mouth was on her, lips and tongue working her in ways that sent sparks of pleasure racing up her spine. He sucked at her clit, teasing and tugging with his teeth before soothing with long, lazy licks. His fingers slid inside her, curling in just the right way that had her arching off the bed, a strangled moan slipping from her lips.

He added another finger, stretching her, filling her in a way that made her head spin. Each flick of his tongue, each thrust of his hand, was deliberate and skilled. Senait felt herself unraveling under his touch, fully understanding how addictive this man could be. He was so good at this, at drawing out her pleasure until she was trembling and gasping, her nails digging into the sheets.

Jules eventually kissed his way up her body, pausing to circle her nipple with his tongue, sucking lightly before continuing upward. When he finally reached her mouth, he kissed her sloppily, taking complete control. His lips claimed hers with a hunger that left her breathless, and she knew her mouth would be swollen later. His hands gripped her waist, holding her steady as he devoured her, leaving no space between their bodies.

Pulling back just slightly, Jules slid off the bed to grab a condom from his tracksuit. Senait’s heart raced as she watched him, every movement of his toned body another tease. He rolled the condom on with practiced ease, standing at the foot of the bed, his dark eyes locked on hers.

With one firm tug, he pulled her toward him by her ankle. Her body slid across the sheets effortlessly, and he leaned down to kiss her again, his mouth hot and demanding. Then he lined himself up, pressing into her in one fluid motion, filling her completely.

Senait moaned, the feeling of him inside her overwhelming. He set a punishing pace, his thrusts deep and relentless, each one making her cry out. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, her breathless moans, and his low groans of pleasure.

"Look at you," Jules said, his voice husky, full of heat. "Taking me so well. Like you were made for this."

His dirty talk had her shuddering, her body tightening around him. He lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist as he kept driving into her, never breaking his rhythm. The power in his movements, the way he controlled her so effortlessly, had her surrendering completely, her mind foggy with pleasure.

Her small frame was no challenge to his much larger one, and all she could do was hold on, gasping and moaning as he held her tight. Her nails scraped down his back, and he hissed, the sound only spurring him on.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he whispered, his voice a mix of English and the occasional French phrase, his words rough and dirty. "So tight, so perfect."

Senait’s world narrowed to the feeling of him, the heat and pressure and the way he filled her up. Every thrust pushed her closer to the edge, her mind a haze of desire. She was lost to him, and she never wanted to be found.

Jules’s grip tightened on Senait’s ass as he thrust into her with a controlled intensity, his body pressed so firmly against hers that she could feel every ridge of his muscles. The friction between them was overwhelming, pushing her closer and closer to the brink. Her moans grew louder, her hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor herself.

"Jules," she gasped, her voice breaking as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot that made her toes curl.

He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "Yeah? You gonna come for me, bébé." The way he spoke, his deep voice dripping with authority, sent a shiver down her spine. His words were a command, not a question, and she could only nod, too breathless to respond.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, his lips trailing down her neck, his accent thick and his breath warm. "Let me feel you."

The combination of his thrusts, the heat of his skin, and the praise sent her spiraling. Senait’s body arched, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave. Her cries echoed through the room, and Jules groaned, feeling her clench around him. He slowed his pace, drawing out her pleasure, his own body straining as he held himself back.

When she finally came down from her high, her limbs felt boneless, her body buzzing with satisfaction. Jules kissed her deeply, his hands roaming over her curves, grounding them both. But he wasn’t done yet. His thrusts picked up speed again, his grip on her ass firm as he chased his own release.

"Fuck," he bit out, his voice tight with pleasure. With a final thrust, he came, his body shuddering as he carefully pressed her down onto the bed. They stayed tangled together, their breaths coming in ragged pants, skin slick with sweat.

For a moment, there was only the sound of their heavy breathing and the quiet rustle of the sheets. Jules pulled out gently, disposing of the condom and then collapsing beside her. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close.

Senait’s head rested on his chest, her fingers lazily tracing patterns over his skin. The silence between them was warm, filled with the afterglow of what had just happened.

"You’re something else, you know that?" he said, his voice low and still laced with a hint of his earlier desire. "So hardheaded."

She laughed softly, the sound vibrating against him. "So I’ve been told."

The Barcelona sun streamed through Jules' windows, painting his living room in warm afternoon light. His phone buzzed with a text from Senait, breaking her latest bout of radio silence:

How's it going?

A smile tugged at his lips. Three days of nothing, and now she pops up like she hadn't disappeared again. Typical Senait.

Jules settled deeper into his couch, memories of Paris flooding back. That weekend had been... intense. After she'd finally given in to his commands that first night, it was like a dam had broken. They'd barely left the hotel room, ordering room service between rounds of what he could only describe as the best sex of his life. He'd had her every way but loose – against the wall, on the balcony (thankfully hidden from view), in the massive shower, bent over the—

His phone buzzed again: Earth to Jules

He smirked, typing back: Just thinking about Paris 😈 💦

S: Stop that

J: Why? I particularly enjoyed that thing you did with your—

S: JULES!!!!

He could practically hear her exasperated tone, picture the way she'd roll her eyes even as a smile played at her lips. That was the thing about Senait – she tried so hard to maintain her walls, but he'd seen behind them. Seen the way she melted under his touch, the way she'd curl into him after, despite her "no cuddling" rule.

The pattern had established itself pretty quickly after Paris. She'd ghost him for a few days, then pop up with a text or call like nothing had happened. At first, it had frustrated him – he wasn't used to women playing hard to get, especially not after sleeping with him. But Senait wasn't playing anything. This was just who she was: fiercely independent, resistant to attachment, and absolutely terrified of letting anyone too close.

Their late-night FaceTime calls had become his favorite, though. She'd be in her NYC apartment, usually in some oversized t-shirt, hair piled messily on top of her head. No makeup, no pretense. Just Senait, raw and real.

"I don't even know if PR is what I want to do," she'd confessed during one such call, about a week after Paris. "It's my first job out of university, and everyone acts like I should be grateful just to have my foot in the door, but..."

"But?" he'd prompted, watching her fidget with her sleeve.

"But sometimes I feel like I'm just going through the motions. Like I'm doing what's expected instead of what I want."

"And what do you want?"

She'd gone quiet then, chewing her bottom lip. "That's the problem. I don't know."

Jules had listened as she talked about her frustrations – the office politics, the endless meetings about meetings, the feeling of being stuck in a role she'd fallen into rather than chosen. He'd offered advice when asked, but mostly he just let her vent.

These were the moments that got to him the most. Not the sex (though that was incredible), not the witty banter (though he lived for it), but these quiet moments of vulnerability. When Senait would let her guard down just enough to show him the uncertainties beneath her confident exterior.

His phone lit up with another text:

Work is kicking my ass this week

Come to Barcelona, he typed back without hesitation. Take a break 👀

There was a long pause before her response:

S: Jules...

J: I'm serious. You can work remote, no?

S: It's not that simple

J: I'll make it simple. Let me take care of everything

Another pause. He could almost see her internal debate playing out.

S: I can't just drop everything and run to Barcelona

J: Why not?

When she didn't respond immediately, he called her. She answered on the fourth ring.

"Because normal people don't just jet off to different countries on a whim," she said by way of greeting.

"Since when are you normal?" He stretched out on his couch, grinning at her scoff. "Besides, you did it for Paris."

"That was different."

"How?"

"It just was."

Jules hummed, unconvinced. "Sounds like excuses to me. You're scared."

"I am not—"

"You are," he interrupted smoothly. "You're scared because Paris was good. Really good. And now you're worried about what it means that you want to do it again."

The silence that followed told him he'd hit the mark.

"It doesn't have to mean anything," he continued, his voice softening. "Come to Barcelona. Work from here for a week. Let me show you the city. No pressure, no expectations."

"Just a friend showing me around?" Her tone was skeptical.

"A friend who happens to enjoy fucking you senseless, yes."

Her surprised laugh warmed something in his chest. "You're impossible."

"Is that a yes?"

Senait sighed, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "Let me check my calendar."

"Check it now."

"So bossy."

"You love it."

"I tolerate it," she corrected, but he could hear her typing. After a moment: "I might be able to swing next week. My team has another training thing, and I could do it remote..."

"Perfect. I'll send you flight details."

"I haven't said yes yet!"

"But you will." He let his voice drop lower, the way he knew affected her. "Because you can't stop thinking about Paris either."

Her sharp intake of breath confirmed it. "You're very sure of yourself."

"With good reason." He glanced at the time – he had training soon. "Think about it. But not too long. Barcelona's lovely this time of year."

After they hung up, Jules found himself scrolling through his photos, stopping on one he'd snapped in Paris without Senait noticing. She was standing on the hotel balcony, early morning light casting a glow around her, coffee cup in hand as she looked out over the city. Her guard had been down, no poses or pretenses.

That's how he liked her best – real, unfiltered, not running from whatever this thing between them was becoming.

His phone buzzed one more time:

Send me the flight details. But I'm not promising anything.

Jules grinned. She could play hard to get all she wanted, but they both knew she'd end up in Barcelona. And this time, he planned to keep her around a bit longer.

TO BE CONTINUED…..

[emjayewrites]

@greedyjudge2 no because Senait is better than me too! I would've folded expeditiously over this man!!! Like @hopefulromantic1 was so right - Jules is so dominant, self-assured, and sexy and I really tried to emanate that in this series. A real #DaddyDom if you will 😭😭😭

in between the lines • jules kounde (1/4)

SYNOPSIS: At Zuri’s engagement party, Senait meets her best friend’s fiancé, Aurélien, and his friend, Jules. A spontaneous hookup with Jules sparks undeniable chemistry, but when Senait ghosts him afterward, she finds herself wrestling with her insecurities as the casual fling begins shifting into something deeper.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Senait Kiros (@/subanbrn)

WARNINGS: football b.s., cursing, smut, drama, mentions of cheating/past relationships, dominant!jules. MINORS DNI (18+)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @vile-harlot @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @essaysbyciara @saturnville @trentswrld @planetmimi @muglermami @shepgurl @sucredreamer @julescpu @tchouathon @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @greedyjudge2

A/N: This is the last 'book' of the "football baes universe". Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. Gif by @doinggreat

Senait arrived at the engagement party with a mix of excitement and nerves. It had been a month since she'd last seen Zuri, and the thought of catching up brought a genuine smile to her face. As she stepped into La Quinta de Jarama, the boho-chic venue adorned with traditional Bamileke décor, warm tones of earthy reds, yellows, and browns enveloped her, showcasing Zuri's style perfectly.

If Pinterest threw up an engagement party, this would be it, Senait thought.

Before she could fully take in the scene, Zuri spotted her and rushed over, wrapping her in a tight embrace.

"Senait!" Zuri's voice was filled with joy, making Senait feel lighter.

"Girl, look at you," Senait teased, pulling back to assess Zuri's radiant outfit. "Fiancé life looks good on you."

Zuri laughed, her happiness infectious. "You're one to talk. Madrid clearly agrees with you."

"It really does," Senait said, smirking as she ran a hand through her curls. "But seriously, it's been too long. I almost forgot what your face looked like."

Zuri rolled her eyes playfully. "Trust me, it's been a whirlwind."

"And now, you're engaged to some guy," Senait teased, glancing around the room. "Where is he?"

"Come on, I'll introduce you," Zuri said, leading the way.

It didn't take long to spot him. Aurélien stood out, not just because of his height and broad shoulders, but because of the calm authority he carried. His traditional Bamileke attire made him look like royalty, the intricate patterns complementing his deep brown skin. There was an ease to the way he held himself, as if he was used to commanding attention without asking for it. His smile when he saw Zuri approach was genuine, and it softened his otherwise sharp features.

"Guys, this is my best friend, Senait," Zuri said, beaming. "Senait, this is Aurélien and his friend Jules."

Senait's gaze shifted to Jules, taking in his athletic build and easy posture. There was an unmistakable grace to his movements, even when standing still. His warm brown eyes held a hint of amusement, and when he spoke, his French accent added a layer of intrigue to his words.

"Enchanté," Jules said, his voice a low, pleasant rumble. There was an undeniable charisma about him, a quiet confidence that caught Senait's attention.

Senait, quickly regaining her composure, turned to Aurélien. "So you're the one who's stolen my Zuri away," she said, eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"Guilty as charged," Aurélien replied, a flicker of self-consciousness crossing his face under her scrutiny.

Before the conversation could continue, the sound of drums filled the air. A group of traditional Bamileke dancers emerged, their colorful costumes a blur of motion as they moved to the rhythmic beat.

Zuri and Aurélien walked through the crowd behind the dancers, their eyes sparkling with excitement. An elder approached them, wrapping their wrists together with some decorative rope—a symbolic gesture that sent a ripple of joy through the onlookers.

Senait stood back, watching the scene unfold, when she felt Jules beside her. His presence was solid, grounding. "So, what do you think of the party?" he said, his accented voice just loud enough to be heard over the music.

She offered him a sidelong glance, intrigued despite herself. "It's vibrant," she replied, her gaze still fixed on Zuri and Aurélien. "Definitely fits Zuri's style."

"And what about you?" Jules asked, a hint of playfulness in his tone. "Is this your style?"

"Please," Senait shot back, her sass evident. "But I'll give credit where it's due. This party is pretty nice."

As the ceremony concluded, the music shifted to a blend of traditional Bamileke rhythms and contemporary beats. Couples began to fill the dance floor, Zuri and Aurélien at the center, laughing as they danced.

Jules turned to Senait, his posture relaxed but purposeful. "Dance with me," he said. It wasn't a question, but neither was it a demand. It was a statement, confident and unhurried.

Senait hesitated, caught off guard by his directness. For a moment, she considered declining, but something—perhaps the magic of the night, or the quiet intensity radiating from Jules—made her reconsider.

"Alright," she said, surprising herself. "But don't expect me to be impressed by any fancy footwork."

A ghost of a smile played on Jules' lips as he guided her to the dance floor, his hand a gentle presence on her lower back. As they began to move to the music, Senait found herself appreciating his natural grace and the way he led without being overbearing.

"You know," she said, unable to resist, "I usually require at least dinner before I dance with a guy I've just met."

Jules chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Then consider this an appetizer," he replied, his accent wrapping around the words in a way that Senait found unexpectedly charming.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, curious now. "An appetizer?" she repeated, her brow lifting slightly in mock skepticism. “I usually have a say in what’s on the menu."

Jules smirked, his fingers brushing a little lower on her back, just enough to make her aware of it. “I’ll take suggestions, then.”

His voice was smooth, unhurried. There was something about the way he spoke, the way he let the moment stretch without feeling the need to fill it with more words, that made Senait feel… at ease. In control, but not entirely. It was an interesting push and pull, and she found herself leaning into it more than she thought she would.

As the song continued, she let her eyes wander over him, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the hint of stubble on his chin, and the quiet intensity in his eyes. There was something about him—something that was drawing her in without her fully realizing it. He wasn’t overbearing, wasn’t rushing, but the attraction was there, simmering just under the surface.

He caught her looking and smirked, just enough to let her know he noticed, but not enough to make it awkward. “I get the feeling you don’t do this often.”

“I don’t,” she admitted, tilting her head as if considering him. “But you’re making it hard to resist.”

He leaned in a little closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Good. I’m not here to rush you. Just enjoying the moment.”

There it was again—his calm, unhurried confidence, the way he made it feel like this was just a natural flow. She could sense his attraction to her in the small, unspoken cues: the way his fingers subtly tightened around her waist, the way he mirrored her movements without overshadowing them. He was giving her room to play, and the more she danced with him, the more she liked the way he let her set the pace.

And, if she was being honest, the longer they stayed pressed together like this, the more her thoughts began to shift. She hadn’t come to the party thinking about anyone—least of all hooking up with someone. But Jules was… intriguing. Sexy, in a quiet way. His energy was just different, and that difference was starting to get to her.

Her mind flickered briefly to the idea of what it would be like later, when the music stopped and the space between them closed. She wasn’t against it—the casual hookup, the fun of it. She just hadn’t planned on it tonight. Yet, with the way his body moved so seamlessly with hers, it was hard not to imagine how good it could feel to let herself indulge in him.

Jules seemed to pick up on the shift in her thoughts, but, true to form, he didn’t push. He kept the same steady, self-assured energy, his eyes never leaving hers. His presence was like a quiet challenge, letting her know he was here if she wanted, but he wouldn’t be the one to say it first.

Senait bit her lip, feeling the weight of the moment settle in between them. She didn’t need to say anything.

As the music shifted to an upbeat Afrobeats track, the atmosphere transformed. The infectious rhythm filled the air, drawing people in, and Senait felt herself responding to the beat instinctively. She turned to Jules, a mischievous smile spreading across her face.

Without thinking, she pressed her body against him, swaying her hips in time with the music in a slow whine. Jules’s eyes widened slightly, a spark igniting in his gaze as he adjusted to her new boldness. His hands found her waist again, but this time, he let her lead, mirroring her movements, their bodies fitting together as if they were made for this.

“You’ve got some moves,” he said, his voice low, laced with amusement as he followed her rhythm.

“Maybe you just bring it out of me,” she teased, glancing back over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of the hunger in his eyes.

“I’m not complaining,” he replied, his smirk growing. There was something about the way he watched her—intently, with a hint of challenge—as if daring her to take it even further.

The heat between them intensified as she moved, her body brushing against him, a grind that sent shivers through her. She could feel the tension in his grip, the way he held her close but left just enough space for her to take charge. It was intoxicating, the freedom to explore without pressure.

Senait turned slightly, catching his gaze again, and the world around them seemed to fade away. “So, what’s next?” she asked, her voice playful, as if they were in on a secret.

Jules leaned in, his lips nearly brushing her ear, his breath warm and inviting. “That depends on you. I’m just here for the ride.”

With that, she tilted her head back, feeling emboldened. The air around them pulsed with energy, and for a fleeting moment, the possibilities stretched out before her. She could indulge in the thrill of this connection, let herself be swept away in the music and the heat between them.

“Then let’s see how far this ride goes,” she replied, her words a silent promise as she led him off the dance floor.

Senait took his hand, threading them both through the crowd as a pulse of adrenaline buzzed through her veins. The party around them felt like a blur—glamorous guests, laughter, the warm hum of celebration—but she only had eyes for Jules. They slipped into a quiet hallway near the restrooms, and before she could talk herself out of it, she tugged him into the nearest one, the door clicking shut behind them.

Her back hit the door, and she exhaled, half laughing at her own recklessness, half consumed by the anticipation simmering between them. “This is crazy,” she whispered, her voice hushed but thrilled. “Hooking up at my best friend’s engagement party with a stranger.”

Jules’s hands found her waist, and his lips curved into that lazy, self-assured smile that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, it is,” he murmured, leaning in, his breath warm against her skin. “But you’re still here.”

Before she could come up with a witty response, he kissed her, and the world seemed to tilt. His mouth was warm, hungry, and she melted into him, every inch of her body attuned to the way he pressed against her. She reached up, fingers tangling in his locs as he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer.

God, it had been so long since she felt like this—desired, wanted. Her ex had a way of making her feel small, crushing her confidence piece by piece with infidelity and careless words. But here, now, with Jules… she felt different. Powerful. Desired. It was a high she didn’t want to come down from.

Jules’s hands roamed over her hips, slipping under the hem of her dress. His touch was firm but reverent, making her shiver as he pushed the fabric higher. When his fingers brushed over her panties, he groaned into her mouth when he felt the dampness there. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice thick with want. “You’re so wet.”

Her heart stuttered, and she arched into him, wanting more, needing more. His fingers teased her, making her gasp as he explored the heat between her legs. She could feel herself losing control, her head spinning from his touch, but he pulled back slightly, just enough to leave her breathless.

His forehead rested against hers, and he exhaled a shaky laugh. “We should probably save this for later,” he said, though the regret in his voice told her just how badly he wanted to keep going. “Before I forget we’re still at a party.”

Senait’s lips curled into a smirk, but her cheeks were flushed, and her body was still buzzing with electricity. “You’re right,” she breathed, trying to catch her breath. “But you owe me.”

His thumb brushed across her lower lip, his gaze heated. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

They straightened themselves out, laughter spilling between them as they tried to look less disheveled before heading back out. The noise of the party hit them again, and Senait immediately grabbed a drink from a passing caterer’s tray, downing two shots of tequila in quick succession to steady herself. A flicker of doubt threatened to creep in, but she swallowed it down, reminding herself she deserved this—a night of fun, of feeling wanted.

She glanced over at Jules, who had joined Aurélien and Zuri as they opened engagement gifts. Zuri was radiant, glowing with happiness, and Senait felt a twinge of guilt for sneaking away during such a special moment. But then she reminded herself: Zuri would understand. Maybe even laugh about it later.

Jules caught her gaze, his eyes warm and inviting, and she felt her pulse quicken again. Gathering her courage, she walked over, reaching for his hand. But just as she was about to pull him onto the dance floor, an announcement rang out, signaling the start of the farewell ceremony.

Jules leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. “Ready to get out of here?” he murmured, the question sending a thrill straight through her.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

With one last look at her friend, she followed Jules out, the promise of whatever came next leaving her feeling more alive than she had in ages.

Senait and Jules slipped into the back of the Uber, and the car pulled away from the venue, the city lights blurring as anticipation curled between them. The silence crackled, thick with the energy of what they had started back at the party, but they didn’t need words. Jules kept her hand in his, his thumb brushing circles over her knuckles, and every stroke sent little sparks along her skin.

By the time they arrived at his hotel, the tension had built to an unbearable crescendo. He led her through the lobby, the cool air of the space doing nothing to soothe the heat pulsing through her. His suite door barely clicked shut before he spun her around, pressing her back against the wall.

“Where were we?” Jules murmured, his voice husky, eyes dark and wanting.

Before she could answer, his lips claimed hers, and she melted. His fingers slid beneath the fabric of her dress, tugging it up and over her head in one smooth motion. He stepped back, drinking her in, and she felt the weight of his gaze, how mesmerized he was by her body. It seemed crazy—insane—that someone like him could look at her that way, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable.

“Damn,” he whispered, reverence thick in his voice. His hands found her breasts, caressing the soft curves before sliding down to cup her ass, pulling her flush against him to help her ease out of her thong.

A shiver ran through her, and she reached for his shirt, eager to even the playing field, but he caught her wrists, playfully swatting her hands away. “Nah,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You don’t get to do all that shit here. I’m the boss tonight.”

His words sent a fresh wave of arousal surging through her, and she felt herself getting wetter, if that was even possible. He guided her to the bed, laying her down gently, and she surrendered to the way he looked at her—like he was savoring every inch.

He took his time, kissing a path down her neck, over her collarbone, and lower, until he was between her thighs. Her breath caught as his tongue found her clit, teasing and circling with expert precision. Her back arched, a moan slipping from her lips as he sucked, licked, and explored, driving her wild with pleasure. Every touch was a new kind of bliss, his name tumbling from her mouth as she lost herself in the rhythm he set.

When she was on the edge, trembling with need, Jules pulled back, leaving her gasping, and quickly undressed. He reached for his suitcase, rummaging for a condom. Tearing the packet open, he rolled it on, his gaze never leaving hers. Senait smiled appreciatively at his thick length and the muscled planes of his athletic body.

He went back to the bed and hovered over her, his voice dropping into that low, sexy timbre. “Ready?” he asked, and she nodded, her body aching for him.

With one swift, smooth motion, he entered her, filling her completely. She clung to him, overwhelmed by the sensation, and he began to move, rocking into her with a perfect, relentless rhythm.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. “Tu te sens si bien. So perfect.”

Her nails scraped down his back, and he groaned, the sound sending shivers across her skin. “Keep talking,” she managed to say, her own voice breathless.

“Je veux que tu ressentes tout ça,” he continued, his accent wrapping around her like a caress. “Every bit of it.”

He kept his pace steady, his hips rolling into hers as he guided her through every wave of pleasure, whispering words that made her body sing. Senait lost herself in the moment, in him.

Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, each thrust sending Senait closer to the edge. She clung to him, savoring every second, the intensity building until it finally shattered. She cried out his name as her orgasm took over, and he followed shortly after, his deep groan vibrating through her.

The room fell quiet except for the sound of their heavy breathing. Jules gently pulled away and disposed of the condom before sliding back into bed beside her.

“Damn,” Senait muttered, a lazy grin spreading across her face. “That was… something else.” The best dick I had in awhile….

Jules chuckled. “Yeah, it was.” His fingers lazily traced patterns along her arm, and for a few minutes, they lay in a comfortable, post-bliss silence. Then, he broke it, his voice curious. “So, tell me about yourself. What’s your story, Senait?”

She tilted her head to look up at him, amused. “My story? That’s a loaded question for after sex.”

He laughed, and the sound was so genuine it made her smile. “Fair point. Maybe just the basics, then? Where you’re from, what you do.”

She shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow. “Alright. I’m from New York, but my parents are from Eritrea."

He raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Habesha girl, huh?"

Senait couldn’t help but laugh, a warm sound that filled the room. "Yeah," she nodded, her curls bouncing slightly. "You know about Eritrea?"

"A bit,” he admitted, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Enough to know Habesha girls are known to be trouble."

She laughed again, rolling her eyes. "Oh, is that what you heard?"

"Mm-hmm," he teased, catching one of her hands and bringing it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “But I think I like a bit of trouble."

She felt her heart do a small flip, a flutter that caught her off guard. But she masked it with a smirk. "Well, you don’t seem so innocent yourself, Jules."

He chuckled, his gaze holding hers, and for a second, the playful exchange melted into something deeper. It made her chest tighten, but she didn’t hate the feeling.

"What about you?" she asked, shifting to face him more.

"I was born in France but my dad is from Benin,” he replied, his tone softening. “And my mom made sure I knew my roots."

She smiled, the kind of smile that reached her eyes. "That’s beautiful."

They fell into an easy rhythm of conversation, swapping stories about family traditions, favorite childhood meals, and dreams of places they still wanted to see. He shared little quirks about himself—like how he had a weird obsession with trying out different hot sauces—and she couldn’t help but giggle.

"Hot sauce? Really?" she teased, her laughter melting the last bit of tension between them.

"Hey," he said with mock seriousness. "Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it."

After another round, they eventually decided to call it a night and sleep claimed them both before either one could object.

_____________________________________________

Senait squinted at her phone screen, the bright light offensive to her barely-awake eyes. 10:47 AM. Shit.

She carefully extracted herself from Jules' warm embrace, pausing as he stirred slightly before settling back into deep sleep. Sunlight streamed through his bedroom window, catching the defined planes of his back. Senait allowed herself a moment of appreciation – both for the view and for the memories of the night before.

All that from some hip movements and good conversation, she thought, amused at herself as she searched for her clothes.

She found her dress first, then her thong, silently congratulating herself on her decision to wear the simple black one instead of anything complicated. Her heels could stay where they'd landed last night – she wasn't about to risk clicking across his floor at this hour. The clutch, thankfully, was right by the door.

One last glance at Jules' sleeping form, and she slipped out, ordering an Uber as she made her way down in the elevator. The morning air hit her skin, fresh and crisp, a stark contrast to the heat of last night's memories.

Back at her hotel, Senait stepped into a scalding shower, watching as water sluiced away the evidence of the night before. Jules' cologne had lingered on her skin, and part of her was reluctant to wash it away. Now you're really being ridiculous, she chided herself.

Another Uber, another ride across Madrid. As she approached Aurélien's impressive front gates – definitely a footballer's house – she pressed the intercom button.

"YOU BETTER TELL ME EVERYTHING!" Zuri's voice crackled through the speaker, followed by the immediate buzz of the gate opening.

Senait walked up the path, taking in the manicured gardens and modern architecture. Before she could even reach the door, Zuri burst out, practically vibrating with excitement.

"You disappeared!" Zuri exclaimed, pulling her inside. "One minute you're dancing with Jules, looking like something out of a music video, and the next – poof!"

Senait couldn't help but laugh at her friend's enthusiasm. "Sorry about that. Your engagement party was lovely, by the way."

"Oh, don't even try to change the subject," Zuri said, steering them toward the kitchen. "Coffee first, then details. All of them."

As Zuri busied herself with the coffee maker, Senait settled onto one of the sleek barstools, grinning at her friend's obvious curiosity. The morning sun streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating a kitchen that looked like it belonged in a magazine.

"So," Zuri said, sliding a steaming mug across the counter. "Jules, huh?"

"Jules," Senait confirmed, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic. "Let's just say... those football skills translate well to other activities."

Zuri's eyes widened with delight. "I knew it! The way you two were moving together... I had to do a double-take!"

"Says the woman who was basically giving Aurélien a lap dance by the end of the night."

"Hey, he's my fiancé, I'm allowed!" Zuri protested, laughing. "But seriously, I've never seen you like that with anyone. Jules must be something special."

Senait took a long sip of her coffee, considering. "He's... interesting," she admitted. "But don't go planning another engagement party just yet."

As Zuri leaned forward, eager for more details, Senait settled in for what promised to be a thorough interrogation. At least the coffee was good.

"You can't just ghost people like that, Sen," Zuri was saying, her voice taking on that familiar lecturing tone. "Especially not good guys like Jules."

Senait shrugged, taking another long sip of her coffee. "I'm focused on myself right now. Not looking to complicate things."

"That's such a cop-out and you know it—"

The sound of the front door opening cut off Zuri's impending sermon. Aurélien's voice echoed through the house, followed by footsteps and – Senait's stomach did an unexpected flip – a familiar French-accented laugh.

Of course, Senait thought, maintaining her composure even as her pulse quickened. Of course he'd be with Aurélien.

Jules appeared in the kitchen doorway behind Aurélien, looking unfairly good in track pants and a fitted t-shirt. His hair was damp from a shower, and in his hands were her abandoned Louboutins.

"I found this, Cinderella," Jules teased, his eyes dancing with amusement as he held up the heels.

Senait rolled her eyes, but she couldn't quite suppress the smile tugging at her lips. "How original," she drawled, sliding off the barstool to retrieve her shoes. "I'm sure you've been waiting all morning to use that line."

"Actually, I had a few others prepared," Jules replied, not releasing the shoes immediately when she reached for them. Their fingers brushed, and Senait tried to ignore the tiny spark of electricity that shot through her at the contact. "But I thought I'd save those for when you're not running away."

From the corner of her eye, Senait could see Zuri and Aurélien exchanging looks. Aurélien had moved to lean against the counter, his arm around Zuri's waist, both of them watching the exchange like it was their favorite TV show.

"Bold of you to assume I'm running," Senait said, finally securing her heels. "Maybe I just had better things to do."

Jules stepped closer, just enough to make her have to tilt her head back slightly to maintain eye contact. "Better than breakfast?" he asked, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "I know a place that makes excellent crêpes."

"Does that line usually work?"

"You tell me."

Senait was acutely aware of their audience, could practically feel Zuri vibrating with anticipation across the kitchen. But something in Jules' steady gaze made it hard to look away, hard to maintain her usual wall of detachment.

"I don't normally do breakfast," she said finally, but her voice lacked its usual firmness.

"Lunch then," Jules countered smoothly. "Or dinner. I'm not picky about meal times."

A snort of laughter from Zuri's direction broke the moment. Senait glanced over to see her friend hastily trying to compose her face into something neutral, while Aurélien didn't even bother hiding his grin.

"Don't mind us," Aurélien said, raising his hands when Senait shot him a look. "We're just here for the show."

"Glad we could entertain," Senait deadpanned, but she could feel warmth creeping up her neck. This wasn't how her morning-after escapes usually went.

Jules hadn't moved away, his presence a warm, solid thing behind her. "So?" he prompted. "What's it going to be? Because I can keep going. I have all day, and Aurélien just restocked his coffee."

"You're persistent," Senait observed, turning back to face him.

"You're worth persisting for."

Zuri made a sound that could only be described as a squeal, quickly muffled against Aurélien's shoulder. Senait ignored her, focusing instead on the earnest look in Jules' eyes, the slight vulnerability beneath his confident exterior.

This could be dangerous, she thought. But for the first time in a long time, the danger felt more thrilling than threatening.

"Fine," she said finally. "Dinner. But I'm choosing the place."

The smile that spread across Jules' face made something warm unfurl in her chest. "Deal."

"Oh my God, this is better than Netflix," Zuri whispered loudly to Aurélien, who chuckled and pressed a kiss to her temple.

Senait picked up her coffee cup again, hiding her own smile behind it. Maybe mornings after weren't so bad after all.

Monday morning found Jules stretched out on his hotel bed in Clairefontaine, absently scrolling through his phone while his teammates' voices echoed from the hallway. His thumb hovered over Senait's contact for what felt like the hundredth time.

The weekend's memories kept playing through his mind: the way she moved against him at the engagement party, her quick wit, that laugh that seemed to catch him by surprise. And then... nothing. Radio silence. Again.

Aurélien had been sent back to his hotel in Paris with a foot sprain, leaving Jules alone with his thoughts. Maybe he should cut his losses. Women usually made it clear they were interested in him – perks of being a professional footballer – but Senait? She was different. Challenging. Made him work for it.

And maybe that's exactly why you can't stop thinking about her, he mused, remembering their verbal sparring, the way she'd match him comment for comment, never backing down.

Jules smiled despite himself. He'd always preferred the chase, and Senait definitely wasn't making it easy. His mind wandered to possibilities – maybe he could get her to Paris, or even Barcelona. The thought of showing her around, seeing that sharp wit directed at his favorite places...

Fuck it, he thought, hitting the call button before he could talk himself out of it.

One ring. Two. Three. He was about to hang up when—

"Hello?" Senait's voice came through, sounding both surprised and slightly amused.

"So she does answer her phone," Jules teased, settling back against his pillows. "How's New York treating you?"

A soft sigh. "It's there. I'm tired. Really not feeling work tomorrow."

"Public relations, right?" He couldn't keep the smugness out of his voice.

"I see Zuri's been running her mouth," Senait scoffed.

"Ease up on my sister-in-law. She's just being a good friend, looking out for you."

"She's trying to play matchmaker."

"And what if she is?" Jules challenged, his voice dropping lower.

"Listen," Senait started, and he could practically see her straightening up, preparing for battle. "You seem like a good guy, Jules. But I'm not looking for a relationship right now. And even if I was, the distance? Come on. You're in France, I'm in New York, then you're in Barcelona—"

"Who said anything about a relationship?" Jules interrupted, smirking. "We can be friends. Friends who occasionally fuck."

Senait's laugh burst through the phone, genuine and surprised. "You're impossible."

"I've been called worse," he said, then added more seriously, "But I hear your warnings. I just don't give a shit."

"Jules—"

"How soon can you see me?"

A pause. "It'll be a while."

"Don't you work remote sometimes?" he pressed, remembering another tidbit from Zuri.

Senait's sigh was heavy with resignation. "Fridays and Mondays."

"Perfect. I'm going to wire you some money. Book a flight."

"No—"

"That wasn't a question, chérie. That was a demand."

Before she could protest further, Jules ended the call, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. He immediately opened his banking app, then sent her a quick text with the transfer details.

His phone buzzed almost immediately:

You're fucking crazy.

Jules' smile widened as he typed back:

Crazy about that ass. Book the flight. 😜

Putting his phone down, he laced his fingers behind his head, feeling more energized than he had all day. Senait could protest all she wanted, but he'd seen the way she looked at him, felt how she responded to his touch. She might be running, but Jules was more than ready for a chase.

And he had a feeling the prize would be worth every step.

________________________________________

Senait slouched deeper into the couch, balancing her laptop on her knees as she clicked through another IT training module. The Parisian afternoon light filtered through the curtains, a constant reminder that she'd actually done it – actually let Jules fly her out to Paris.

This wasn't part of the plan, she thought, absently picking at the remains of her breakfast croissant. The past week had been a constant back-and-forth in her mind, her finger hovering over the "book flight" button more times than she cared to admit.

This was supposed to be her time. Finding herself, exploring her interests, having fun without complications. But then again...

You can have fun with a fine-ass footballer who wants to fly you out and dick you down, her inner voice reasoned. That's technically self-care.

She hadn't told Zuri about any of this. Her best friend had enough on her plate with Aurélien's sprained foot and her father being... well, being Ernest. Senait had never liked that man, but that was neither here nor there at the moment.

At least the red-eye flight timing had worked in her favor. These self-guided trainings meant she could take it easy, and by 2 PM, she'd finally finished the last module. After polishing off her leftover breakfast, exhaustion hit her like a wave. She stretched out on the couch, telling herself she'd just rest her eyes for a moment.

What happened to be hours later, the sound of a keycard in the door jolted her awake. Before she could fully orient herself, Jules was already entering, still in his national team tracksuit with a duffel bag over his shoulder.

"You could've at least knocked," Senait said, voice raspy with sleep as she sat up.

Jules clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he dropped the bag near the bed. "Is that how you greet me?" His accent was thicker tonight, his voice carrying that commanding tone that made something flutter in her stomach.

Finally focusing properly, Senait took him in – he looked tired, a bit frustrated, but somehow still unfairly attractive. "Rough match?"

"Lost to Italy. 3-1," he said, dropping his bag by the door. "Not our best showing."

"I saw some highlights," she lied, having accidentally slept through the entire thing.

Jules shot her a knowing look. "The drool on your chin says otherwise."

Senait quickly wiped at her face, making him laugh. "Have you eaten?" he asked, already reaching for the room service menu.

"Not hungry."

"You're going to eat now. I don't want you fainting later."

Before Senait could protest, he was on the suite’s phone, ordering in rapid French. She caught bits and pieces, enough to know he was ordering way too much food.

"Come here," he said after hanging up, patting the space next to him on the other side of the couch.

Senait shook her head. "I'm fine where I am."

"Senait." His voice dropped lower, taking on that tone that seemed to bypass her brain and go straight to her clit. "Come here."

Damn him, she thought, even as she found herself moving toward him. Jules wasted no time pulling her against his chest, arranging her exactly how he wanted her.

"I don't do cuddling," she protested weakly.

"You do now," he replied simply, his hand stroking slowly up and down her arm. "Relax."

Gradually, despite herself, Senait felt her body melting into his warmth. They talked about nothing and everything – his frustration with the match, her work, the best cafes in Paris. She found herself enjoying his company more than she wanted to admit.

He's annoying, she thought, even as she nestled closer. So bossy and sure of himself. But remembering their night together after the engagement party, how he'd taken control with such easy confidence, how he seemed to know exactly what she needed... maybe bossy wasn't such a bad thing.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Jules murmured, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

"Just thinking about how annoying you are," Senait replied honestly, making him laugh.

"And yet here you are, in Paris, in my arms."

"Don't get too cocky."

"Too late for that, chérie." His voice held that dominant edge that made her pulse quicken. "I already know exactly what I want, and I usually get it."

Senait turned her head to look at him. Yeah, Jules definitely knew what he wanted. And God help her, she was starting to think she might want it too.

"You weren't like this at the engagement party," she observed, studying his profile. "All dominant and bossy."

Jules' laugh was low and rich. "Had to reel you in first, didn't I? Don't worry, chérie, you'll get used to it."

"Bold of you to assume I'll stick around long enough to—"

A knock at the door cut her off. Jules untangled himself from her, the loss of his warmth immediate and, annoyingly, noticeable. He answered the door with that easy confidence of his, greeting the waiter in French and gesturing him inside.

The waiter wheeled in a cart, lifting silver covers to reveal what was possibly the most luxurious version of comfort food Senait had ever seen – perfectly constructed burgers, golden fries, steaming French onion soup, and what looked like a sinfully rich chocolate dessert.

After tipping the waiter and closing the door, Jules arranged her plate in front of her with a flourish. "Want ketchup?"

"No, I'm good."

Jules pressed a hand to his chest in mock horror. "You're just going to rawdog the fries? No sauce at all?"

"Did you really just say 'rawdog'?" Senait laughed, picking up a fry. "And yes, I am. Die mad about it."

"Uncultured," he teased, settling back beside her with his own plate.

They fell into easy conversation as they ate, Jules telling her about the match ("That ref was clearly wearing an Italy jersey under his uniform") and Senait filling him in on the office drama she was missing ("My coworker definitely scheduled these trainings just so she could take over my project").

Then, casual as anything, Jules said, "When we're done eating, I want you naked on the bed."

Senait choked on her Coke, barely avoiding spraying it across the room. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me." He took another bite of his burger, the picture of nonchalance.

Senait blinked slowly, opened her mouth, closed it again. She stared at him, but Jules just continued eating, acting like he hadn't just short-circuited her brain with eight words.

The audacity of this man, she thought, even as heat pooled in her belly. She forced herself to focus on her food, very aware of the growing tension in the room.

They finished their food in charged silence, Senait taking her sweet time with the last few fries, Jules watching her with growing impatience. When she finally set down her napkin, Jules fixed her with a look, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Senait..."

"Yes?" She blinked at him innocently, as if she hadn't spent the last ten minutes deliberately ignoring his earlier command.

His eyes darkened. "You're testing me."

"I'm just enjoying my dinner," she said primly, examining her nails. The defiance was instinctive – she'd never been good at taking orders, even ones that made her pulse race.

Jules leaned forward, his voice dropping to that tone that seemed to vibrate through her. "I'm not in the mood for games tonight. The match has me frustrated enough." His accent thickened as he continued, "I told you where I want you. Don't make me say it again."

Senait remained in her seat, raising an eyebrow. She wasn't about to give up control that easily, even if part of her was dying to comply.

"Un." His voice was dangerously soft.

She crossed her legs.

"Deux."

Her heartbeat quickened, but she held her ground.

"Tr—"

"Fine," Senait huffed, standing up. As she walked toward the bed, she heard him mutter under his breath in French, something about fucking the defiance right out of her.

Senait sauntered over to the bed, her hips swaying defiantly. She took her time undressing, piece by piece, her eyes never leaving Jules. Each discarded article was an unspoken taunt, a silent reminder that she wasn’t one to simply submit. Finally, she lay back on the sheets, her skin warm under the soft glow of the room’s ambient lighting.

Jules, still perched on the couch, watched her with barely restrained impatience, the muscle in his jaw ticking. He rose slowly, crossing the distance between them, and pulled off his sneakers with methodical precision, followed by his tracksuit and then his underwear. Even though she’d seen his body before, it never failed to stir something deep in her.

He approached the bed, climbing onto it with a confident grace, settling between her legs. His large hands pushed her thighs apart, spreading her wide so he could take in every inch of her exposed pussy. His gaze was heavy, almost reverent, and he reached out to touch her, fingers trailing along her wet folds.

A low chuckle escaped him. "You’re always so fucking wet for me."

Senait’s breath hitched as he spit onto her pussy, the added slickness making her shiver in anticipation. And then his mouth was on her, lips and tongue working her in ways that sent sparks of pleasure racing up her spine. He sucked at her clit, teasing and tugging with his teeth before soothing with long, lazy licks. His fingers slid inside her, curling in just the right way that had her arching off the bed, a strangled moan slipping from her lips.

He added another finger, stretching her, filling her in a way that made her head spin. Each flick of his tongue, each thrust of his hand, was deliberate and skilled. Senait felt herself unraveling under his touch, fully understanding how addictive this man could be. He was so good at this, at drawing out her pleasure until she was trembling and gasping, her nails digging into the sheets.

Jules eventually kissed his way up her body, pausing to circle her nipple with his tongue, sucking lightly before continuing upward. When he finally reached her mouth, he kissed her sloppily, taking complete control. His lips claimed hers with a hunger that left her breathless, and she knew her mouth would be swollen later. His hands gripped her waist, holding her steady as he devoured her, leaving no space between their bodies.

Pulling back just slightly, Jules slid off the bed to grab a condom from his tracksuit. Senait’s heart raced as she watched him, every movement of his toned body another tease. He rolled the condom on with practiced ease, standing at the foot of the bed, his dark eyes locked on hers.

With one firm tug, he pulled her toward him by her ankle. Her body slid across the sheets effortlessly, and he leaned down to kiss her again, his mouth hot and demanding. Then he lined himself up, pressing into her in one fluid motion, filling her completely.

Senait moaned, the feeling of him inside her overwhelming. He set a punishing pace, his thrusts deep and relentless, each one making her cry out. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, her breathless moans, and his low groans of pleasure.

"Look at you," Jules said, his voice husky, full of heat. "Taking me so well. Like you were made for this."

His dirty talk had her shuddering, her body tightening around him. He lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist as he kept driving into her, never breaking his rhythm. The power in his movements, the way he controlled her so effortlessly, had her surrendering completely, her mind foggy with pleasure.

Her small frame was no challenge to his much larger one, and all she could do was hold on, gasping and moaning as he held her tight. Her nails scraped down his back, and he hissed, the sound only spurring him on.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he whispered, his voice a mix of English and the occasional French phrase, his words rough and dirty. "So tight, so perfect."

Senait’s world narrowed to the feeling of him, the heat and pressure and the way he filled her up. Every thrust pushed her closer to the edge, her mind a haze of desire. She was lost to him, and she never wanted to be found.

Jules’s grip tightened on Senait’s ass as he thrust into her with a controlled intensity, his body pressed so firmly against hers that she could feel every ridge of his muscles. The friction between them was overwhelming, pushing her closer and closer to the brink. Her moans grew louder, her hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor herself.

"Jules," she gasped, her voice breaking as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot that made her toes curl.

He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "Yeah? You gonna come for me, bébé." The way he spoke, his deep voice dripping with authority, sent a shiver down her spine. His words were a command, not a question, and she could only nod, too breathless to respond.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, his lips trailing down her neck, his accent thick and his breath warm. "Let me feel you."

The combination of his thrusts, the heat of his skin, and the praise sent her spiraling. Senait’s body arched, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave. Her cries echoed through the room, and Jules groaned, feeling her clench around him. He slowed his pace, drawing out her pleasure, his own body straining as he held himself back.

When she finally came down from her high, her limbs felt boneless, her body buzzing with satisfaction. Jules kissed her deeply, his hands roaming over her curves, grounding them both. But he wasn’t done yet. His thrusts picked up speed again, his grip on her ass firm as he chased his own release.

"Fuck," he bit out, his voice tight with pleasure. With a final thrust, he came, his body shuddering as he carefully pressed her down onto the bed. They stayed tangled together, their breaths coming in ragged pants, skin slick with sweat.

For a moment, there was only the sound of their heavy breathing and the quiet rustle of the sheets. Jules pulled out gently, disposing of the condom and then collapsing beside her. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close.

Senait’s head rested on his chest, her fingers lazily tracing patterns over his skin. The silence between them was warm, filled with the afterglow of what had just happened.

"You’re something else, you know that?" he said, his voice low and still laced with a hint of his earlier desire. "So hardheaded."

She laughed softly, the sound vibrating against him. "So I’ve been told."

The Barcelona sun streamed through Jules' windows, painting his living room in warm afternoon light. His phone buzzed with a text from Senait, breaking her latest bout of radio silence:

How's it going?

A smile tugged at his lips. Three days of nothing, and now she pops up like she hadn't disappeared again. Typical Senait.

Jules settled deeper into his couch, memories of Paris flooding back. That weekend had been... intense. After she'd finally given in to his commands that first night, it was like a dam had broken. They'd barely left the hotel room, ordering room service between rounds of what he could only describe as the best sex of his life. He'd had her every way but loose – against the wall, on the balcony (thankfully hidden from view), in the massive shower, bent over the—

His phone buzzed again: Earth to Jules

He smirked, typing back: Just thinking about Paris 😈 💦

S: Stop that

J: Why? I particularly enjoyed that thing you did with your—

S: JULES!!!!

He could practically hear her exasperated tone, picture the way she'd roll her eyes even as a smile played at her lips. That was the thing about Senait – she tried so hard to maintain her walls, but he'd seen behind them. Seen the way she melted under his touch, the way she'd curl into him after, despite her "no cuddling" rule.

The pattern had established itself pretty quickly after Paris. She'd ghost him for a few days, then pop up with a text or call like nothing had happened. At first, it had frustrated him – he wasn't used to women playing hard to get, especially not after sleeping with him. But Senait wasn't playing anything. This was just who she was: fiercely independent, resistant to attachment, and absolutely terrified of letting anyone too close.

Their late-night FaceTime calls had become his favorite, though. She'd be in her NYC apartment, usually in some oversized t-shirt, hair piled messily on top of her head. No makeup, no pretense. Just Senait, raw and real.

"I don't even know if PR is what I want to do," she'd confessed during one such call, about a week after Paris. "It's my first job out of university, and everyone acts like I should be grateful just to have my foot in the door, but..."

"But?" he'd prompted, watching her fidget with her sleeve.

"But sometimes I feel like I'm just going through the motions. Like I'm doing what's expected instead of what I want."

"And what do you want?"

She'd gone quiet then, chewing her bottom lip. "That's the problem. I don't know."

Jules had listened as she talked about her frustrations – the office politics, the endless meetings about meetings, the feeling of being stuck in a role she'd fallen into rather than chosen. He'd offered advice when asked, but mostly he just let her vent.

These were the moments that got to him the most. Not the sex (though that was incredible), not the witty banter (though he lived for it), but these quiet moments of vulnerability. When Senait would let her guard down just enough to show him the uncertainties beneath her confident exterior.

His phone lit up with another text:

Work is kicking my ass this week

Come to Barcelona, he typed back without hesitation. Take a break 👀

There was a long pause before her response:

S: Jules...

J: I'm serious. You can work remote, no?

S: It's not that simple

J: I'll make it simple. Let me take care of everything

Another pause. He could almost see her internal debate playing out.

S: I can't just drop everything and run to Barcelona

J: Why not?

When she didn't respond immediately, he called her. She answered on the fourth ring.

"Because normal people don't just jet off to different countries on a whim," she said by way of greeting.

"Since when are you normal?" He stretched out on his couch, grinning at her scoff. "Besides, you did it for Paris."

"That was different."

"How?"

"It just was."

Jules hummed, unconvinced. "Sounds like excuses to me. You're scared."

"I am not—"

"You are," he interrupted smoothly. "You're scared because Paris was good. Really good. And now you're worried about what it means that you want to do it again."

The silence that followed told him he'd hit the mark.

"It doesn't have to mean anything," he continued, his voice softening. "Come to Barcelona. Work from here for a week. Let me show you the city. No pressure, no expectations."

"Just a friend showing me around?" Her tone was skeptical.

"A friend who happens to enjoy fucking you senseless, yes."

Her surprised laugh warmed something in his chest. "You're impossible."

"Is that a yes?"

Senait sighed, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "Let me check my calendar."

"Check it now."

"So bossy."

"You love it."

"I tolerate it," she corrected, but he could hear her typing. After a moment: "I might be able to swing next week. My team has another training thing, and I could do it remote..."

"Perfect. I'll send you flight details."

"I haven't said yes yet!"

"But you will." He let his voice drop lower, the way he knew affected her. "Because you can't stop thinking about Paris either."

Her sharp intake of breath confirmed it. "You're very sure of yourself."

"With good reason." He glanced at the time – he had training soon. "Think about it. But not too long. Barcelona's lovely this time of year."

After they hung up, Jules found himself scrolling through his photos, stopping on one he'd snapped in Paris without Senait noticing. She was standing on the hotel balcony, early morning light casting a glow around her, coffee cup in hand as she looked out over the city. Her guard had been down, no poses or pretenses.

That's how he liked her best – real, unfiltered, not running from whatever this thing between them was becoming.

His phone buzzed one more time:

Send me the flight details. But I'm not promising anything.

Jules grinned. She could play hard to get all she wanted, but they both knew she'd end up in Barcelona. And this time, he planned to keep her around a bit longer.

TO BE CONTINUED…..