16. Freya
16
FREYA
J ude gives me no air to breathe. I’m surviving off his kiss alone and there is nothing gentle about the way he devours me.
He walks me backwards farther into the room without breaking the lock of our lips. It takes him seconds to strip my jacket off and pull my shirt over my head.
I catch glimpses of Oz watching with dark eyes from beside the door, but Jude demands my attention. He nips at my jaw and his hands drop to my thighs. The world tilts as he lifts me up, hooking my legs around his hips before we crash onto the bed.
I’ve never seen Jude like this. Never experienced this unleashed version of him.
“Jeans. Off. Now.” He keeps kissing me around each word, stopping just long enough to give me the order, and pull off his hoodie and t-shirt, before diving right back in.
I squeeze my hands between us to undo my pants. My knuckles brush against his hardened length, straining against his zipper, and Jude practically growls. The sound vibrates through me and my core spasms.
I wriggle out of my jeans but apparently, I’m not moving fast enough because a sharp sting lights my ass as Jude rips off my panties.
The muscles in his arm flex as he bunches the thin black material up in his fist. A crazed, desperate look haunts his eyes and I’m suddenly not so sure about doing this. He’s hurting and I want to talk to him, to look after him.
I push against his chest. “Jude, just wait a minute.”
His eyes pierce into mine. “No,” he says, the word clear and defiant.
“No?”
“Open your mouth.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Why?”
He holds himself above me on one arm and dangles my panties from his other hand. “So I can gag you with these pretty little panties of yours.”
I ignore the way my stomach flips and breathe in through my nose. Gagging me isn’t exactly conducive to talking, which is what I think he needs to do right now. I work hard to keep my voice steady. “I know you’re upset but that’s not going to happen.”
A dark glint flickers in Jude’s eyes and he snarls. “Open. Your. Mouth.”
I press my lips together and glare at him.
“I’m not in the mood for talking, Freya.” When I don’t relent, he sits up, pinning me beneath his legs. He cocks his head, the move somehow feline, like a panther preparing to pounce. “Babygirl, you’re picking a really bad time to disobey me.”
I twist my head to look for Oz’s help, but Jude’s hand flies up and grabs my jaw, forcing my gaze back to him. He uses his other hand to pinch my nose shut, cutting off my air. Still, I refuse to open my mouth. I grab his wrist, trying to dislodge his hold.
He just stares coldly down at me.
I buck beneath him, and we glare at each other until my vision starts to blur. I open my mouth on a gasp and Jude shoves the panties inside. I reach up to take them out, but he seals his palm over my lips.
“Oz,” he says as I struggle.
The bed dips as Oz climbs onto the mattress behind me. He grabs my hands and locks my wrists together in his. Of course he’d take Jude’s side .
I try to dislodge the panties with my tongue to no avail.
Jude licks his lips. “Much better.” His praise rumbles over me and I close my eyes as I’m lost in a shiver.
I’m mad but I’m also incredibly turned on. It’s frustrating how often those two things go together. I know the psychology of this, but I still have to remind myself that I don’t need to hand in my feminist card just because I like being dominated in bed.
Oz’s palms are rough against my wrists and Jude’s heated gaze sears into me. Maybe I was wrong about talking. Maybe what he needs right now is control and my body is all too happy to let him take it.
Oz dips his head to whisper in my ear, his short beard rough against my cheek. “Tap my hand twice if you need to stop.”
I meet his eyes and nod to let him know I’ve heard, but my gaze jerks back to Jude as he snaps my bra off.
He runs his thumbs over my nipples then sits back to undo his zipper. He groans as he frees his throbbing length from his boxers, squeezing his hand around its large width. “Such a good little girl, waiting nice and quietly for me.”
I glower at him.
He smirks. He doesn’t check to see if I’m ready, he just notches the head of his dick at my entrance and thrusts his hips forward.
I grunt at the intrusion, the sound muffled by my make-shift gag. He’s hot and thick and my walls burn as he stretches me wide. The bar piercing on the top of his shaft rolls against me with every thrust.
Jude lowers his upper body back on top of me and buries his face in my neck as he fucks me. Each thrust shifts me farther up the mattress, only Oz’s hold on my wrists keeping me in place.
Jude bites and sucks at my skin, working his way down to my breasts. It’s a rough, chaotic fuck and I think I’m handling it well until he sucks my pebbled nipple into his mouth then bites down. Hard.
I scream through the gag.
Jude lets go and eases the pain with his tongue. Then he moves to my other breast. I shake my head and squirm, fighting against Oz’s hold because holy shit that hurt.
Jude pulls away from my breast and presses a kiss to my jaw. “Shh, you’re okay,” he whispers in my ear. “You can take it. Be a good girl for me.”
I whimper but I stop struggling because as much as it hurt, it felt fucking good too.
Jude dips back down, pressing little kisses around my nipple. Then he grazes the hardened peak with his teeth and bites.
Even knowing it’s coming I still scream. My back arches off the bed to try and ease the pressure but Jude doesn’t let go until he’s ready. He drives deep inside me, changing the angle of his cock so it hits my g-spot. When I don’t think I can take another second, he lets go of my nipple and my orgasm crashes through me. Pain shatters into pleasure.
Jude pounds into me, moaning low as he spills hot pumps of cum deep in my cunt. He leans his weight into me and rests his forehead against mine. “Good girl. Such a good girl for me.”
Tugging my chin down he removes my panties and presses a kiss to my swollen lips. “Wait here.”
I moan as he pulls out of me, my cunt clenching around him like it doesn’t want to let him go.
Oz looks down at me and brushes my hair, sticky with sweat, away from my face. “Are you okay?”
I nod, my mouth dry. “I’m fine but Jude…” I look to the bathroom where I can hear water running. “This isn’t normally his style.” I meet Oz’s gaze. “I thought pain was more Eli’s thing.”
Oz sighs and shuffles down the bed till he’s lying on his side next to me. “As strange as it sounds, this is Jude needing to look after you.”
I raise a brow, thinking of the bruises I can already feel on my breasts. “How does that work exactly?"
“Jude grew up feeling useless. He needs to feel wanted. He needs to be needed.” Oz gently presses his thumb to the side of my throbbing nipple, sending a shot of electricity to my clit. “I think he was a little rough so that now he can make it better.”
I roll onto my back and sink into the comforter. “I guess that makes sense, in a backwards kind of way. I just wanted to help.”
“You are helping, just let him look after you.”
Jude comes back into the room. He’s put his pants on, leaving the button undone. His chest is still bare, and all that smooth skin and those ridged abs go a long way to have me wanting to be fucked again. I may have protested at first but if I’m honest, I’m not that upset. I understand needing to find a release and it’s hardly like I didn’t enjoy it. I discovered a long time ago I like a little pain with my pleasure. I’m just a little sour he used my own damn panties as a gag.
Still, I let him scoop me off the bed and carry me into the ensuite.
The bathroom is just as stunning as the rest of Jude’s parents’ house. The walls are tiled in sand colored stone with gorgeous striations of silver and brown. An open-ended shower three times the size of the one in my old house stands to the left but Jude carries me past it to the tub against the far wall. It’s made entirely of glass and steam rises off the water.
Jude presses a kiss to my forehead and lowers me down into the bath. He sits back on his heels on the mat and stares at my body through the glass. “You know, there’s a lot I hate about this house and my parents’ taste, but I have a newfound love of glass bathtubs.”
I smirk and trail my hand down to between my legs.
Jude tsks, dipping his hand into the tub to halt my progress. “Tease.”
“Sadist,” I fire back.
He lets go of my wrist and tilts my chin back with his fingers. “I’ll make it better,” he says before kissing me. He’s not so crazed anymore, his kiss gentle and coaxing. “Lie back.”
Reluctantly, I pull away and sink into the hot, soothing water.
Jude picks up a sponge and takes his time as he washes me. His touch is so tender and soft it’s like a lullaby and I let my eyes drift shut.
He trails his fingers down my neck and over my breasts. “I like seeing my marks on you,” he murmurs.
I hum, not bothering to open my eyes. “Between River and Eli and now you, I don’t think I’ll have a shortage of them anytime soon.”
He traces a circle around my nipple. “You don’t mind?”
“My body’s covered in marks. Most of them I hate. Yours, I love.” I open my eyes and look at him. “But if you don’t stop doing that with your finger, I’m going to need you to make me come again.”
He stops moving and his soft brown eyes gaze deep into mine. “You know you’re beautiful, right? Every inch of you. Scars included.”
I sit up and the water ripples, flowing off my shoulders like silk. “I’m not ashamed of my scars, they’re proof I survived. But they’re not beautiful.”
Jude twists my hair around his fist, squeezing out the water. “You’re wrong.”
My heart flips. I’d love to see myself through Jude’s eyes. From the moment we met he’s seen nothing but beauty in me. He never doubted me, never hated me. Jude sees so much good in me when I’m around him I sometimes manage to forget the things I’ve done.
He stands up and holds out a hand.
I place my palm in his and step out of the tub.
Jude dries me off, not letting me do it myself. The towel’s the softest I’ve ever felt, and I decide we should steal one before we leave as payback for his mom being such a bitch earlier.
After I’m dry, he moves me in front of the wide mirror above the double sinks and presses a kiss to my collar. “Stay here, I want to do something.”
I wait while he ducks into the bedroom and rustles around before coming back into the bathroom with a pen. It’s a fine tip artist pen used for illustrations. “You draw?” I ask.
“Occasionally. When I have the time.” Jude takes the cap off and puts it between his teeth. He holds my shoulders and moves me back into position, facing the mirror.
Oz raps his knuckles on the open door. “Can I watch?”
Jude nods.
“Watch what, exactly?” I ask, unsure what is actually happening right now.
Oz strolls into the bathroom and sits down on the closed toilet lid. “You’ll see.” He crosses his arms and leans back, apparently settling in for the long haul.
I watch him, curiosity bubbling inside of me. Then Jude spreads his palm around the back of my neck and brings the tip of the pen to my shoulder. He draws a steady line down my front, curving over my collar bone and stopping at the edge of the first cross shaped scar on my right-hand side. “Oh.” The word falls from my lips.
Jude’s eyes sharpen as he focuses, making my body his canvas.
After a few minutes Oz turns on some music from his phone and Jude mouths along to the lyrics as he draws.
He enters a sort of hyper focused flow state. It’s the way he gets when we’re figuring out a case but there’s an added calmness to his demeanor that sinks into my soul.
My skin tingles under the tip of the pen, shivers tickling in the wake of Jude’s touch as he holds me steady.
Jude gets lost in his art and Oz and I are a captive audience.
I stand there, watching in the mirror as Jude turns my naked body into a masterpiece.
He draws constellations across my chest, blending my scars into the black lines as he connects the stars and adds swirling patterns like in Van Gogh’s Starry Night.
I must stand there for over an hour as he draws on every inch of my body. It’s pure torture when he drops to one knee and sketches decorative skulls and knives on my thighs, his every breath caressing my mons.
My legs ache but I don’t dare move. I’m enrapt by what Jude is creating.
I can’t quite make out what he draws on my ankles and when he moves to my back every beat of my heart is desperate to know what he’s doing.
Oz gets up and leans against the shower door so he can watch, and I catch his eyes in the mirror. “Is it more stars?” I ask.
Oz just smiles mischievously. “You’ll see.”
I’m quickly falling in love with being a human canvas. It’s like having your hair played with, endless little shivers running through your body.
Eventually Jude steps back and takes the pen lid from his lips. He circles around me, looking up and down as he absorbs his creation.
I try to be patient but eventually give in. “Can I see?” I ask him, a smile on my lips like a child waiting for her presents.
Jude nods and I beam. He snags Oz’s phone and photographs my back, then my front, my legs, my arms. He gets close ups of every inch of me then offers me the phone.
I reach out to take it but stop when I realize what he’s drawn on my wrists. Hidden between swirling vines and leaves are the metal bracelets of a pair of handcuffs. I huff out a laugh and check my ankles. Sure enough, on the right ankle, he’s drawn my tracker anklet.
I meet his eyes and quirk a brow. “Funny man.”
He smirks.
I take the phone off him and scroll through the photos.
I bring a hand to my chest, emotion catching in my throat.
Spread across my back are angel wings. He’s incorporated every scar I have into the arching lines and delicate feathers. They’re gorgeous and so realistic I think for a moment I might actually be able to fly.
“Jude, you’re incredible.”
He looks away, a small smile on his lips but shyness hiding in his eyes.
I put the phone down and step towards him, cupping his jaw and dragging his gaze back to me. “You’re so talented. I can’t believe I didn’t know you were an artist.”
He shrugs. “I don’t do it much. Art wasn’t considered ‘an acceptable pursuit’ for an Elroy.”
Fury at his parents fires through my illustrated body. I imagine it burning out of me, taking Jude’s drawings and lighting them up. “I could watch you draw all day long Jude Elroy and this better not be the only time you draw for me.”
“You like it?”
“I could become addicted to your pen on my skin.”
He moves behind me and rests his chin on my head so we’re both looking at our reflections in the mirror. “You’re fucking beautiful, Angel. Do you see it now?”
Tears catch in my eyes. I reach up and hook my hand around the back of Jude’s neck. “You make me beautiful.”
Jude closes his eyes and buries his face in my hair, breathing me in.
Oz steps forward and takes my other hand. “You realize he’s not going to let you wash it off, right?”
The thought of doing that breaks my heart, it’s the last thing I want to do but… “What about the bedsheets?”
Jude’s eyes narrow. “Screw the fucking sheets, this place needs messing up a bit.”
Oz tugs on my hand. “Come on, Mo Leannan, let’s go to bed.”
We leave the bathroom and I climb onto the bed. Both Jude and Oz strip down and get in on either side of me.
Jude drawing on me pretty much melted away all my stress and, tucked securely between the two of them, it’s not long before I fall asleep. Thankfully, no nightmares come.
The night would have been pretty much perfect if only I hadn’t woken up to another message on my phone.