chapter 26
[Angelica]
My intention wasn’t to have sex with him. Jude still looked like he was hurting. For a minute there, I thought he might combust from my hug. I didn’t miss his hands fisted at his sides, like he hated the embrace. He was so tense.
But when I finally decided to stop torturing him, he began to relax. He slipped his arms around my back and held tight, like I was a buoy in rough seas. I don’t know how long we clung to one another, but once my body settled against his, my eyes drifted shut.
It was late. I was exhausted. And Jude was comfortable.
I should have left. Another twenty minutes, and I’d be home in my own bed, but I didn’t want to leave him. Not yet. My argument was that we’d already shared a bed once, I didn’t see why we couldn’t share a bed again.
Once inside his room, I didn’t know what to do next. I didn’t have a plan.
Thankfully, Jude takes the lead. He pulls a fresh T-shirt from a drawer and hands it to me. “You can sleep in this. Bathroom’s in there.”
“Thanks.” Stepping into the smaller room he pointed toward, which is the size of my entire kitchen, I quickly take care of business. Undress, use the facility, and swipe some toothpaste on my finger to brush my teeth. Not the best bedtime routine, but not the worst either.
When I return to his bedroom, Jude is already in his bed, boxer briefs on, lying flat on his back. A lamp beside the bed illuminates the room. He watches me as I circle the bed and climb beneath the covers. His sheets feel decadent and rich.
Mirroring Jude’s position, I lie on my back as Jude stretches for the lamp, clicking it off. I flinch even though I anticipate the darkness. Jude shifts to his side, facing me, and I turn only my head.
When his fingers touch my arm, delicately stroking up and down the length, my eyelids feel heavy again.
“When I was a kid and I couldn’t sleep, my mom would tickle my arm like that.”
Jude doesn’t respond.
“That feels nice,” I whisper, my voice sleepy.
Another minute passes, and I sink further into the bed.
“I don’t know how to go slow,” Jude finally says, his voice low, before he stops tickling my arm and cups my hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss the tips of my fingers.
“But I’m trying,” he adds.
I stare at him as best I can in the dimly lit room. An orange glow from the city lights, stories below, reflects into the clouds outside the wall-to-wall windows, casting a dull glow in his room.
With my head turned toward him, I say, “Who says you have to go slow?”
I’m not certain who moves first, but suddenly, our mouths press together, and hands roam.
Our bodies draw together like puzzle pieces, and that crackling sensation of cold air crystalizing on glass tickles over my skin at the sudden contact.
Our arms wrap around each other. Our legs entwine.
I’m hyper aware of the coarseness of his against the smoothness of mine.
Our mouths continue to meet, discovering one another, although we’ve kissed before. This is different. This is Jude unleashed and me untethered, both of us riding out the storm of whatever this is between us.
He rolls me to my back, pinning me beneath his weight. His hands seek mine, and he lifts both my arms over my head.
We stay like this for a long minute with our mouths still joined, searching for more. His weight feels so good over me and my hips shift, legs spreading wider, welcoming him into the cradle between my thighs.
“Angelica,” he moans as he shifts his lower half, and I’m met by his hard length against my soft center.
With nothing more than my thin panties and his fitted boxer briefs between us, I feel everything. The length and solidness and the heat of his tip when he meets the dampness of my own underwear. He rocks forward, and I tip my head back, momentarily breaking our kiss.
“Jude,” I cry out. I’m suddenly wide awake and wanting everything. My arms struggle in his grasp over my head.
“Need something, angel?”
He kisses me before I can answer.
You, I want to shout. For better or worse. I want to feel him naked and raw against me.
Instead, I let the subtle jolt of my lower half express all that I desire. With my clit practically kissing his tip, I moan in desperation.
Jude continues to pin my hands above my head, locking my wrists into one of his hands while the other travels down the underside of my arm.
Trailing down the sensitive length of skin, my existing need for him blooms into a desperate desire.
He reaches for the hem of his shirt on me and pushes it upward so he can cup a breast. I cry out again at the sudden pinch he gives my sharp nipple.
My hips buck, and I wrap one leg around his lower back, opening myself wider.
He breaks our kiss and moves quickly down my neck where he nips at the juncture of it and my shoulder before dropping even lower to my breast.
Jude sucks, sharp and quick. When he pops off the tender swell, I let out a little yip. He moves down to my belly before he releases my wrists, and I clutch at his hair as his head lowers for where I want him most.
When he reaches my panties, which are soaked, he swipes his tongue over the damp silk. Then he hums against where I’m most sensitive.
“You smell like sugar and spice, even down here.” Hooking his fingers into the waistband of my underwear, he slides them down my thighs to just below my knees, then forces my knees wide again, which rolls the underwear to my ankles.
Jude settles in once more. With the first lick, my lower half bows off the bed, but Jude uses those broad hands of his to hold my hips still, keeping me once again pinned to the bed. His tongue does wicked things, sliding through slick folds and twirling against that trigger point.
My legs begin to shake. Holding me in place only adds to the climb. The spiral up and up and up a steep mountain until I’ve reached the summit where Jude likes to dangle me on the pinnacle before setting me free.
I scream his name as I come hard and fast, barreling back down the other side of that mountain in a rush I’ve never felt before.
Jude continues to hold my hips, driving his tongue deeper, prolonging the ride as I moan and hum and toss my head from side to side until I’m wrung out and collapse back to the bed.
I quickly catch my breath as Jude’s fingers enter me, sliding in and out in a lazy motion.
“I want to feel all this wetness dripping down my dick.”
“Yes,” I whisper.
Jude presses up to his knees and one-handedly shoves down his boxer briefs. His fingers still only momentarily inside me, and then he’s on top of me again. The weight of his shaft glides back and forth in the wetness he’s made before his tip catches on my clit.
Jude cups my shins and presses them to my chest, holding my legs up and wide. I’m on display in a way I never have been, and he settles his thickness against me once more, sliding his hard cock back and forth through the soaked creases.
“You feel so good,” he strains, his voice as tight as his grip on my legs.
When his tip notches at my entrance, we both freeze. His blue eyes are reflected in the dull light and sparkle like ice crystals. Quickly, he releases my legs and stretches for the nightstand beside his bed.
I hear the telltale sound of a rip and then watch as Jude covers his length. He settles back between my thighs, but keeps his arms extended while his hardness lies against my clit.
“This still okay?”
“More than okay,” I whisper, holding on his eyes before he glances where we meet. He grips his dick and lines it up, then slowly dips inside me.
Jude is big. Bigger than anyone I’ve ever experienced, and I appreciate the time he takes to slowly fill me. Once he’s to the hilt, he pauses.
“I just need a second.” His voice comes heavy and ragged while he hangs his head, still braced on extended arms.
I reach up and cup his jaw. “You won’t break me,” I whisper.
“But I want to.” His head pops up and he stares down at me. “I want to shatter you in the best way.”
That shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does. “Break away,” I whisper, wanting him to do his worst.
“Angel,” he groans as he pulls back until only his tip rests inside me. Then he drives home again, a little quicker, a little sharper.
When I puff out a breath, he does it again and again, taking his time to tease and torture. Back and forth he moves while I cling to him. My hands cup his face first, pulling him down to kiss me until we can’t keep the connection.
Then, I wrap my arms around his slick back, nails scratching down his spine. The move causes Jude to react. His head pops up, and his hips move faster.
“Do you like that?” I tease, drawing my nails back up his back.
“Fuck,” he grunts, moving even faster. His hips snap forward and mine snap back, each of us meeting the other thrust for thrust.
“You feel so good.” He sounds almost surprised, but I’m not. Not that I didn’t think Jude would be talented in this area, but his expertise surpasses my fantasies. The reality is so much better than what I’d imagined in my head.
Eventually, he brings his hand between us, catching his thumb on my clit.
“What are you . . .” My breath hitches as I quickly discover what he’s doing and wonder how no one has ever done this to me before.
His skilled thumb circles my clit, and his hard length dips in and out, and I feel the familiar climb only this man creates.
“Jude,” I cry out in warning.
“Yeah, sweetheart,” he grunts. “Come for me. Come all over me. Mark me as yours.”
The command is deep and shattering as he promised. I break into a million little pieces, scattering in the wind like drifts of snow across a flat field. Weightless and breathless, I come again, wrapped around him.
Jude rocks even faster, driving even deeper, until he abruptly halts. He flings his head back, and I stare at the vein on his neck, pulsing in rhythm with another spot on him.