chapter 28
[Angelica]
We finish out the rest of the game in the box section, finding a thread of commonality in being sports fans.
While we don’t spend a long time with these people who are clearly Jude’s friends on some level, what strikes me most is that they are just men, like the firehouse guys.
They might have bigger wallets, but they talk about the same things. Sports. Mortgages. Women. And aging.
When the game ends, we shuffle along with the masses to the parking lot. Jude wraps his arm over my shoulders, and I lean into his side.
“Have fun?” His question is hesitant, like he’s worried I didn’t.
“Loved it,” I admit. It was a great night. A great date. Between a light buzz and the laughter of the evening, plus all the little touches Jude has been giving me, I’m not ready for the night to end.
“Come over?” he asks me, pressing a kiss into the side of my head, before we reach his car.
Relief washes through me. “I thought you’d never ask,” I tease.
By the time we enter his high-rise condo, he’s already kissed me silly in the elevator.
Once inside his place, I push him against the hallway wall.
“What the hell?” His voice is sharp, and my confidence falters. But as I lean into Jude, taking his mouth with mine, he settles in. His lips curl against mine, and I pull back to witness a crooked smile.
“Where is this coming from?” He chuckles. The sound is so honest.
“Watching hockey, I guess. I never realized how much I might like it. Something so primitive about checking a guy into the boards.” I hold my arm against Jude’s chest like I’m doing it to him. “Don’t even get me started on those warm-up moves.”
“What warm-up moves?”
“The one where the guys are on their knees, holding their upper body off the ice, but their lower body dips and thrusts toward it. The way those hips move . . .” I hum and chew at my lower lip.
“You like that move, huh?” He arches a brow, the curl of his mouth almost sinister, seductive.
I hum and reach for his belt to answer his question.
“Whoa,” he says, as I unbuckle it with a little too much force.
“Want me to stop?” I glance up at him. The entire night is catching up with me.
Jude asking me to attend the game with him.
The fact he bought separate tickets for us to be alone.
He called in a favor to help me with my brother’s wedding.
Then he shared his small group of friends with me.
The whole experience opened my eyes to who he truly is.
Quiet and kind. Thoughtful, not boastful. Possibly shy. Definitely an extroverted introvert.
“Is Santa’s favorite color red?”
I tilt my head. “What’s your favorite color?”
His eyes widen. “Are we really doing this now?” He glances down to where his belt dangles open and my fingers are on the button holding his jeans closed.
“Just figured your favorite color is something a girlfriend should know. Fake or not.”
Jude stares at me a minute before his hands clasp my face and he kisses me. The connection is so powerful. I’m walked across the short width of his entryway and pressed into the opposite wall.
Never in my life has a kiss felt so claiming. His tongue practically etches his name on mine. His heart hammers in his chest beneath my palms, telling me he’s just as affected as I am by this moment. But I push him away, because this moment is mine.
As I press against his chest, he takes a step back to the other side of the entryway.
“Green,” he says.
I tilt my head again.
“My favorite color is green.”
I lean into Jude once more, kissing him quickly before lowering to the floor and working at his zipper.
“Angelica.” His voice cracks.
Glancing at him, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jude so vulnerable.
“Let me please you,” I whisper, my confidence faltering another step. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this, but I want to do it to him.
He cups my jaw, holding his gaze on my face. “You already do.”
Dammit. His words empower me more, and I boldly tug at his jeans and boxer briefs, lowering them over his hips, while watching his thick shaft spring from the confines.
When I wrap my hand about the base, Jude hisses.
With a firm squeeze, I aim the tip toward my mouth and lick the slit, seeping with desire.
“Fuck.”
Peering up at him, I watch him tip back his head. He holds the hem of his shirt up against his washboard abs, and I take a second to admire the ripple of his belly and the dark hairs leading to the massive length in my hand.
Opening wide, I suck at the tip, popping off only momentarily before taking more of him into my mouth.
As he taps the back of my throat, Jude collects my hair and wraps it around his fist, lifting it off my neck.
He gently holds the back of my head, rocking ever so slightly into the warmth of my mouth.
I suck and lick and savor the salty maleness of him.
“This feels so good, angel,” he groans before abruptly pulling free.
“Why stop?” Did I do this wrong?
“I want more of you.” Jude reaches down for my hips and tugs me upward from my crouched position until I’m wrapping my legs around his waist. He carries me like this to his living room and sets me on the low table in front of his couch.
Quickly, he removes my knee-high boots and pulls me to stand to remove my leggings and underwear.
When I reach for his jersey, he stops me. “Leave it on.”
The request gives me pause, and I glance down at the uniform. Vulnerability slams into me.
“How many other girls have you told to do the same thing?” I shouldn’t ask. It’s ruining the mood and bringing down my empowered woman vibe. But something deep inside me needs to know.
“Zero.”
I tip my head, not certain I believe him. With Jude seated on the couch and me standing over him, his eyes shift. The cold icy glare so natural to him melts to clear pools again.
“I swear on my sister.” He makes an X over his heart. “I have never touched a girl wearing that jersey because no girl has ever worn it before you. No one.”
He licks his lips and adds, “I didn’t bring women here. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a private person. Cautious about who I bring close to me.”
He leans forward and runs his hands up the back of my thighs.
“And I want you closer.”
My heart nearly does a back flip in my chest as he tugs me onto his lap.
While straddling him, he tugs off his two shirts, then lifts me just enough to shove down his boxer briefs and jeans.
From the back pocket, he removes another square packet and rips the edge with his teeth. I watch as he rolls it down his length, then holds the base, making the length stand tall and proud and eager for me.
“Ride me.” His voice is so low, so deep, I almost don’t recognize it.
Still, I hold his shoulder and climb over his lap, resting my entrance at the tip. With my other hand, I hold up the edge of his jersey.
Jude brings his other hand to my lower belly and stretches his thumb for my clit. “Hang here a second.”
As I balance on the edge of him, he circles that sensitive nub, making certain I’m ready to take him.
No concerns here.
I release his shoulder and nudge his hand away. I just want to feel him slide into me, and once his hand is free, I lower.
“Oh shit,” Jude mutters, watching himself disappear. He doesn’t take his eyes off the spot until I’m as full of him as I can get.
His head snaps upright, and he looks me in the face.
“You are so beautiful.” He pulls forward to kiss me, bracketing my jaw in his hands again, and for a beat we stay in this position.
Him buried inside me while we kiss. When I feel him jerk within me, I pull back, needing to move.
The tension is building, and I’m ready to continue the climb.
With one hand back on his shoulder, and the other holding up the edge of his jersey, I do as he asked, and ride. Up and down, my slickness coats him, and I move faster and faster until he pins me to his lap. I rock forward and back, letting my clit kiss his pelvic bone.
“Holy . . . holy . . .” I cry, lost in the sensation.
“That’s it, angel. Fucking ride my cock.”
“Jude,” I cry out.
“That’s right. And you don’t want holy holy, you want bad.” His jaw snaps. His fingers dig into my hips.
“My good girl wants the naughty list,” he continues. “And she wants it with me.”
“Yes,” I call out, tipping my head back a second as I pump over him.
“Let me feel it, angel. Want to feel you dripping down my balls.”
“Oh God,” I whimper, hearing the slick mess we’re making. Then my breath hitches. “Jude?”
I glance down between us like I don’t know what my body is doing.
“Touch yourself.”
My head pops up, and I stare at him. I’ve never done that with someone.
His fingers press harder at my hips, tugging at the sides of his jersey to keep it raised just enough so he can see where we are connected.
“Let me see it.”
Hesitantly, I lower my hand to my clit, rubbing small circles where I need attention while I glide up and down on him. Then I scissor my fingers, feeling him slide between them. I squeeze his gliding length before returning to myself.
“Holy shit.” Jude barks, like I’ve surprised him. Then his voice strains, “Get there, sweetheart.”
“Jude,” I cry one more time, removing my hand and slamming down on him, rubbing against that delicious bone of his again, before I snap.
Like a Christmas cracker, I come unraveled, exploding over Jude like colorful strings of ribbon and bits of confetti.
My mouth hangs open and my head tips forward as I rocket and crash, collapsing over him a second.
Jude rocks us forward. Up and off the couch we go, as he slips free from me. He spins and sets me back on the couch on my knees, facing away from him. He wedges my legs apart as he crawls up behind me, pressing me gently forward to bend over the back of his sofa.
“I want to read my name on your back while I fuck you.”
“Jesus.” I shouldn’t like the sound of that, but as he surges into me, stealing my breath, I thrust backward, drawing him deeper. As if I can’t get him deep enough.
“Green,” he shouts, and I turn my head, wondering why he’s calling out the color.
“Nine,” he grunts next, and I glance down at his jersey, noting the number.
He leans forward without breaking his rhythm. “And I’ve newly developed a taste for chocolate mints made by a beautiful creature named Angelica.”
It hits me in this precarious position, that he’s just told me his favorite color, number, and food.
“Why?” I gasp, cutting off the rest of my thought. Why is he telling me these things?
He surges into me one more time, before leaning forward and whispering toward my ear. “Because these are things my girlfriend should know.”
He doesn’t clarify fake or not. He simply pulls back and begins a relentless rhythm that I embrace as I cling to the back of the couch.
His hands clutch at my hips again, certain to leave marks, if not the imprint of him as he drives into me.
“So. Good.” He grunts before releasing one hip and awkwardly smoothing down his jersey against my back.
His name is on display. His number as well.
“Angelica,” he shouts, then stills inside me, where I feel him jolt and jerk. He collapses forward, resting his forehead between my shoulder blades and slipping his hands around to my lower belly, pressing gently at it, as if he can feel himself inside me.
When he slowly lifts, he’s gentle as he slips out of me. I fold to one side, sliding down the cushion to sit.
Jude reaches for me, lifting me into the air and presses a kiss to my temple.
“Let’s shower.”
Within minutes, we begin round two.