Chapter 16
VIOLET
Ihate him.
I truly, irrevocably, and without a shadow of a doubt despise Jude Callahan and everything he stands for.
But my feelings toward him don’t seem to deflate my reaction when he’s around. I’d never admit it out loud, but there’s been an insatiable emptiness in my life lately. Something deep and ferocious and maddening, like an itch beneath the skin I can’t reach.
However, that only lasted until he showed up tonight.
Threatening me and my date and announcing that we’re together as if that will ever happen.
As if I’d ever be with someone like him who’s hell-bent on killing me and making me pay just because he can.
We’re impossible.
I know that.
He knows that.
But whatever spark that ignites whenever we’re around each other doesn’t give two damns about those simple facts, because it mounts with every encounter.
And God… The way he looks down at me with ravenous, lustful eyes is intoxicating.
There’s rage there as well, harsh and red-hot. Probably because his cock is already half erect right in front of my face, and he’s angry that I make him hard. Or his obsession with me does.
I have no clue what the hell he’s thinking when he corners me on the regular, inserting himself into my life like a damn parasite, but I’m growing dangerously used to this.
My whole life, I’ve been uncomfortable with the way men look at me, but I crave the way his pupils blow wide and how ravenous he looks when I’m in his sights.
The feeling that’s been coursing through me since he trapped me in the bathroom rushes to the surface. The ache between my legs intensifies as I rub them together on the ground, needing some friction I never thought I’d ache for this much.
Jude taps the crown of his cock against my mouth. “Open.”
I purse my lips, not because I don’t want to, but because the idea I’d simply fall into this unorthodox encounter, like when he ate me out, is terrifying.
His cock’s size is also making me self-conscious as hell, because it’s not even fully erect and it’s already this enormous.
Grabbing his cock in one hand, he squeezes my cheek with the other, making me look up at him. He’s towering over me, like the horizon, and despite the public space, it feels…weirdly intimate.
As if we’re the only people existing in the here and now.
“Be a good girl and take my cock in your hot little mouth, sweetheart.”
I remind myself that it’s not for him, but for me, to prove to myself that I still dislike oral so I’ll finally stop having those disturbing dreams about a man with a helmet and leather gloves visiting me every night.
“Use your hands. Don’t just leave them lying around,” he orders in firm words that rush through my spine.
I wrap both hands around him and jerk him up and down, looking up to gauge his reaction. That’s what I’ve learned about blowjobs—it’s all about the man’s reaction.
Jude’s face remains impassive, but he’s growing bigger in my hand, harder, and…holy hell. If I thought his cock was big when half erect, it’s massive now, and the base of my stomach tingles with a weird sensation.
He slides his thumb over my mouth as I swallow hard, squeezing and feeling on edge just from his eyes. “You wore lipstick today. You never wear lipstick.”
“It was a special occasion.” Why do I sound breathy?
“Special occasion, huh?” His voice is huskier but darker. “From now on, you only wear lipstick for me.”
“That’s not—”
“Shh.” He removes my glasses, and I can see him clearly now, probably because they’ve been gradually fogging up. “You shouldn’t hide these eyes.”
Something about the way he’s watching me feels intrusive and frighteningly intimate because I love the way he looks at me.
As if I’m someone he can’t explain.
Someone he can’t help but want.
Jude slides the glasses in his back pocket and grabs my hands that are around his cock and guides it to my mouth. “Enough with the foreplay. Wrap these pink lips around my cock.”
Still looking up at him, I pull him deep into my mouth, the smooth, velvety skin sliding all the way to my throat, and I still can’t fit all of him.
I take a moment to fall into the choking sensation instead of fighting it and then dart my tongue, licking the underside of his cock, bobbing up and down to use the inside of my mouth, my tongue, and my throat for friction.
“Mmm.” He sinks his fingers into my hair, his jaw tight, betraying his usually unaffected expression. “Your little mouth is made to take cock, isn’t it?”
I moan around him, using the spit and the salty precum as lube, working my mouth even if my jaw hurts. The obscene wet sound is so titillating, I’m rubbing my thighs together.
No clue why I’m getting hot and bothered by sucking his cock, but I can feel my panties getting soaking wet.
This is degeneracy.
“But not just any cock.” He gathers my hair in a fist as he thrusts into my mouth. “My cock.”
I groan, deep-throating him as far back as possible, remembering to breathe through my nose.
“From now on, this mouth won’t be fucked by any other cock but mine.” He drives deeper, holding his cock at the back of my throat. “These lips will only wear pink for me.”
For a second, I can’t breathe.
I’m choking and spluttering, slapping my hands against his muscular thighs, clawing at his jeans.
Then the strangest thing happens.
Pressure builds in my pussy, violent and sudden, as tears stream down my cheeks.
“Mmm. You look beautiful when broken.” He pulls out his cock and I choke, coughing, the excessive saliva, precum, snot, and tears mixing in an unceremonious mess.
There’s no way I look beautiful.
But as I stare at him, panting, I can see his wide chest heaving and his eyes darkening to two orbits of reckless desire.
“Open.” He taps his wet crown against my mouth again, and I don’t think twice, opening it wide as he thrusts all the way to the back of my throat.
I don’t attempt to put in any effort. I just let him choke me—fuck my throat, actually, using his grip on my hair to guide my head whichever way he pleases.
“Damn. God fucking dammit.” He’s so high on lust, so hard and brutal, I’m gasping, and it’s not in response to what he’s doing.
My own thighs are shaking, rubbing, searching for something…anything.
“Why does your mouth feel so fucking good, Violet?” He’s mad, and so close to coming, I can feel the anger and lust and hate emanating off him.
And I find solace in his anger because he wants me. But I’m mad at myself for finding his dark brutality so alluring right now.
The way he touches me, uses me, makes me feel as if he can’t get enough of me, is turning me delirious.
“Why you, of all people?” He grunts, his every muscle tightening and coiling, and then he pauses because he notices.
Of course he notices.
His gaze slides to my thighs that are rubbing together, and I want to stop. I really do, but I just need something more.
“Jesus Christ. You got turned on being throat-fucked?”
I try to shake my head, but I feel him getting even harder in my mouth—which I would’ve thought was impossible—and something inside me brightens and explodes in a myriad of colors I’ve never experienced before.
A gasp leaves me when he pushes his boot between my legs and presses it against my core. Even with the jeans and my panties as a barrier, the pressure electrifies me, and I hum against his dick.
“Mmm. I love how red your face is.” Thrust. “You’re a natural at taking my cock, sweetheart.”
“Mfff.” I’m moaning, squeezing my thighs against his boot, needing the pressure and the fucked-up pleasure only this man can give me.
“Ride it.” He slides his boot up and down my pussy. “Show me how much you want to come, Violet.”
I don’t even know what’s happening to me, and I don’t allow myself to think.
Holding on to his leg, I lift myself up and down against the tip of his boot. The pressure makes me lightheaded, or maybe it’s his cock in my mouth or the lustful power he’s looking at me with.
“Good girl.” He holds his cock at the back of my throat, my face so close to his groin, but I don’t stop moving.
Rubbing.
Grinding.
Moaning.
Falling.
I don’t recognize myself anymore, but I don’t have to, and I don’t want to.
If anything, I stop thinking altogether when his rough voice cuts through my mind. “You’re doing so well.”
I kind of melt. I don’t know how or why his praise affects me, but it does, and then I’m coming, the rush overtaking me like a storm. But I remember to open my mouth wider as I ride his boot, feeling my wetness dampening my jeans.
“Fuck, Violet. Fuuuck.”
He cracks.
His dick swells and bursts, flooding the back of my throat.
I swallow it, and as I watch him, his face tight, his abs contracting beneath his shirt, another orgasm hits me like a tidal wave.
Rushing and pulling and turning me delirious. Knowing he came because of me.
I’m making the Jude Callahan, worshiped hockey god and unfeeling monster, come in pulses in my mouth.
Cum trickles on either side of my mouth despite my attempts to swallow as much as possible, and I’m flinching, too sensitive after the orgasm.
Jude pulls his cock from my mouth, and I kind of…suck around the crown, which makes him release a gruff sound.
I don’t know why I do it, really. A thank-you? The need for this moment to stay a little longer before reality hits?
He seems to be as lost about the reason as I am, but he strokes his fingers along my jaw, gathering the cum and thrusting it back into my mouth.
I’m about to swallow, but he shakes his head and holds my mouth open, his thumb pressing on my lower teeth. “Open wider.”
My jaw aches, but I try to open as wide as possible, and his eyes turn ravenous.
Insatiable.
Hell, I think his cock is twitching.
And it’s because he’s watching his cum pool on my tongue, I realize, my spine tingling in response.
He watches it for long moments, or maybe it just feels that way because I’m caught in his gaze, completely taken by the way he watches me as if I’m…what? Something precious.
Don’t be an idiot.