Chapter 56 Maeve #2
Before she could lose her nerve, she pulled off his towel and took him into her mouth.
She’d never done this before, never wanted to, really, but she wanted to see Jude come undone, knowing she was behind it.
She wanted to hear the noises from his mouth as he dug fingertips into her scalp, his sharp intake of breath as she took him deeper.
Feel him pull her away when he got close.
‘I don’t want to…’ he shook his head, guiding her back to her feet. His cheeks were flushed, a wash of colour that extended down his chest. ‘Not yet.’
‘Well, that’s one way to keep you around,’ Maeve said, smiling as he pulled her tight to his chest. His breathing had yet to slow.
‘Come on,’ he said into her hair.
He divested her of her towel and laid her flat against the bed. She laughed, skating her palms up and down his sides as he moved to hover over her, accidentally setting his hand down on her loose hair in the process. It pulled sharply at her scalp.
‘Ow—’ she winced, pulling at her trapped hair.
Jude drew back so rapidly that he nearly toppled over. ‘Are you all right?’ He massaged his fingertips into her scalp, eyes wide with concern.
Maeve fought a grin as she pulled him down on top of her. ‘I’ll survive. Maybe.’
An answering smile moved quickly to his lips.
‘Funny,’ he murmured, sliding his hand into the hair at her nape to angle her face towards his.
Their gazes locked and held, something heady passing between them.
Emotion welled up in her chest at seeing him like this – allowed to be free, unconcerned with anything that wasn’t his present moment. She leaned up and kissed him.
As he moved his hand to wrap around the side of her throat with his thumb against her pulse, Maeve realized this would be nothing like their last kiss.
The kiss at the inn had been all desperation and a wild reach for connection.
They’d been starving for each other, wanting one moment of happiness amidst their rapidly crumbling reality.
It was no wonder it had played out the way it had.
Whenever she had thought of kissing Jude, sleeping with him, even, she’d pictured something slow. Reverent, almost.
She’d admitted to herself once, when she’d been out of her mind with jealousy at the thought of him and Bethan as lovers, that Jude would take his time. As his lips moved over hers, his thigh pressing between hers and sliding up, the friction more than perfect, she knew she was right.
He was going to make a slow study of her, and she was going to let him.
Jude released her mouth to kiss down her neck, across her collarbone.
He pressed his nose to the underside of her breast, fitting his thumbs into the hollow of her hips.
Slid his tongue over her nipples until she began to gasp before kissing over her ribs and sternum, each brush as light as a feather.
He drank in her every reaction, lingering when she arched against him, mouthing at her skin.
Love, she thought as he made a careful catalogue of everywhere he could reach, was everything and nothing, indefinable in a world she tried to keep safely contained. Love was this – sacrifice and survival.
Maeve watched him move downwards, trying to control her heart rate.
She’d never craved a lover’s eyes like this. Certainly not during, when she was vulnerable, open, him between her legs. But when Jude kissed the soft hollow where her hip met her thigh and looked up at her, she wanted nothing more than him. Memorizing her with his eyes and with his mouth.
‘You will need to instruct me,’ Jude whispered.
‘I think—’ she cut off, squeezing her eyes shut when he pressed his nose to her inner thigh, followed by his tongue. ‘I think you’ll be fine.’
She slid the short strands of his hair through her fingers, feeling him shudder in response. Desperation filled her as he lingered at her hip, kissing her skin with barely-there touches. He pulled back to study her, running his fingers lightly between her legs until she squirmed.
‘Jude,’ Maeve said, breathier than she would’ve liked. ‘Please.’
He smiled, mumbling something against her skin that sounded suspiciously like patience. She memorized the sight of his head between her legs, his fingers pressing indents into her hip. His panting breaths against where she needed him the most.
She couldn’t take it anymore.
Maeve skated her hand over his head to pull his mouth closer.
Her eyes fell shut as he finally pressed his tongue to her skin.
Her body was strung-out and eager, her heart beating in time with his touch.
For a moment that seemed endless, it was as though she didn’t inhabit her body at all.
It was only Jude, his mouth between her legs, his fingers inside her, and the heavy weight of his hand against her thigh.
Like in the bath, she guided him with a hand in his hair, back arching upwards when he pressed his face closer, groaning into her.
He didn’t let up until she lay spent, her breaths coming in rapid pulls.
Even then, she had to pull him back, laughing when he whined and placed a final, open-mouthed kiss between her thighs.
‘How very enjoyable,’ he said, wrapping his arms tight around her waist and burying his face in her belly. ‘Marvellous.’
‘Marvellous?’ Maeve laughed, a breathless thing.
‘You’ve never used that word in your life.
’ She stretched the stiffness from her fingers on the quilt as he chuckled, rubbing the stubble on his cheek against her skin until she squirmed.
‘I am very glad you think so, though. Extraordinarily glad, even.’
He shifted downwards. ‘Again, perhaps?’
‘There are other things, you know,’ she said, regretfully tugging him back up.
‘Are there?’
His voice was light, teasing. Maeve didn’t think she’d ever seen his smile so unencumbered.
She kissed the side of it and rolled him onto his back.
His hazel eyes were clear and dark as he gazed up at her.
The fringe of his lashes covered them as he tilted his head to watch her fingertips skip down the planes of his stomach, lips parted.
She traced the runic tattoo on the hollow of his right hip, stopping when he stifled a gasp.
‘It’s sensitive,’ he said. ‘But don’t stop.’
She flattened her hand, covering the lines before running her palm up his side and tracing the largest tattoo on his chest – a half-circle surrounded by three lines like the rays of a sun.
The sign of the Abbey, forever marked on his skin, just like it was on both of their hearts and minds.
It might never leave them entirely, but perhaps it could be reclaimed.
She leaned down and kissed it. Jude shuddered.
Fighting a tremble, she drew her hand back down the centre of his stomach and slowly wrapped it around him.
He made a keening noise, gripping her waist as she moved her hand up and down.
A light sheen of sweat dewed his chest. She rubbed her thumb across him, smiled when he whimpered.
She drew closer, sliding him against the wetness between her legs.
Fought a gasp of her own at the feeling of it, at the way his head tipped back with a moan.
‘Jude,’ Maeve whispered.
His throat bobbed with a rough swallow. ‘Yeah?’
‘Is this what you want?’
‘Yes,’ he breathed, nodding. ‘Please.’
Steadying herself with a hand on his chest, Maeve rose on her knees and slowly sank onto him.
His fingers convulsed on her hips, the tendons in his neck stretching tight.
She paused there, letting them both adjust. She wished they had more light – the sun, a candle, anything.
She wanted to see him, see where they connected.
Finally, he let out a long breath, shifting his hips beneath her and pressing his head back deeper into the mattress.
He wanted her to move. She wouldn’t – not yet.
Instead, she leaned forward, sliding her nose up his neck and sucking a kiss into the soft skin just beneath his ear, not quite hard enough to leave a mark. ‘Okay?’
His whole body jerked in response. She pulled back to look, worried she’d done something he hadn’t liked, but his face was slack, lips parted. He slid both palms up the line of her spine, one coming to rest around the back of her head as he brought their foreheads together.
‘Can you do that again?’ he asked, their lips brushing together.
His brows were knitted tightly, eyes half-open, almost in pain. A deep flush was working its way down his neck. She gave a few rolls of her hips, just to see him shudder. Saints, he felt good. ‘Do what?’
He brushed his fingertips lightly under his collarbone. ‘Mark me. Here.’ His voice took on a soft, pleading cadence. ‘I want to see it later.’
It was her turn to shudder, leaning down to press her mouth exactly where he’d touched, sucking until a deep purple mark bloomed on his skin. ‘Like that?’ she asked.
Jude nodded. He rested his palm over it when she was done, his face relaxing like she’d unknotted something inside him.
Before she could return to unravelling him completely, his hands were on her hips, moving her over him.
Her legs trembled with the strain. She braced her hands on his chest, leaning down over him.
His gaze was clear, his face inches from her.
And Maeve couldn’t focus, not on anything that wasn’t him. The way he felt inside her, the tender pressure of her chest sliding against his. The liquid heat travelling down her limbs was too much to bear.
‘Maeve.’ Jude made a stifled noise at the back of his throat, almost a whine. Sweat dewed on his chest, his throat. The mark she’d left. ‘Maeve, you—’ he swallowed. ‘Please. Please.’
‘I know,’ she murmured, fighting for control as much as he was.
He skated trembling palms up and down her flank, pushing his head back into the pillow.
He was close, but not close enough. She wanted to see him unravel.
Wholly and completely, and for her alone.
She brought her lips to his ear. ‘You can do it. For me.’
His whole body tightened before he released a half-gasped noise next to her ear. She drew back just far enough to see his face. The flush on his cheeks, his tightly squeezed eyes. The way he caught his lip between his teeth.
Her heart swelled with a vibrant swell of emotion as she fell forward onto his chest, burying her face against the side of his neck.
The sheer reality of him was enough to take her breath away.
Enough to make her thankful, a hundred times over, for the gift of the man in her arms. A gift she would hold tight for as long as she had strength.
For a long moment, the only sound was their breathing, the soft rasp of skin. Then Jude laughed, exhilarated and shocked, before rolling them over and draping himself on top of her.
‘You’re heavy,’ Maeve mumbled, huffing a laugh as she playfully shoved at him.
Jude pressed a final kiss to where her neck met her shoulder before shifting enough for her to curl into his side.
She turned to look at him. Both dimples were out on full display.
He hugged her, pressing a kiss to her hair.
‘I knew you’d be the death of me,’ Jude murmured. ‘One way or the other.’