Chapter 25
Emma
I don’t know why I bothered about a romantically divine checklist. Jude Greystone has set fire to nearly every single one of the items and blasted that old list into orbit.
I think he may have even invented some options that I never even had on the damn list. Some that I never even considered, thinking they were too outrageous.
But he dialled up that sexometer and I could almost hear the pinball bells as he hit another one. Or maybe that was just my screams.
I didn’t even know I could be so loud. But what is a girl supposed to do?
I smile to myself as I wake in the morning, the ‘Romantically Divine god’ at my side. His large and heavy arm across my stomach, he’s laid on his front, hair tousled, long lashes swept onto his cheeks. Cheekbones defined and most lickable.
I get the giggles as I imagine him waking up to me licking at his cheeks.
I feel light, and free. I have never had anyone make love to me like that.
Or if I’m being a bit brutal, fuck me like that.
If that is his normal, no wonder women were queuing up, and Lindy going on national radio to talk about him.
But I also felt he was holding back. Going slower than maybe he normally would. He’d start to do something, then half stop and divert and do something else. But I don’t dwell too much on that. I’d rather continue to stare at him.
Even his arm is sexy. I know Louise goes on about arm porn, but I didn’t get it before. Obviously it was because I wasn’t looking at the right arms. I’m examining it closely, as his voice comes at me.
“It’s an arm.” He cracks an eye open, and his lazy grin starts my stomach to flutter. He pulls me towards him, kissing my shoulder. “Morning. Ready to negotiate terms for the new day?”
He’s fully awake now, and I can feel his cock pushing at my hip. He’s swivelled his body, so I get the full effect. This was not on his podcast. I decide to point that out.
“You never mentioned in your podcast on negotiation that you could use your body as a weapon. You talked about the use of silence, and being prepared.”
“Oh, you listened to it, did you. Well, I have to protest. I am using a technique I discussed. I’m prepared.”
He thrusts his hips towards me, his cock hot and heavy now against my skin.
He plucks a condom off the bedside table and wafts it at me.
He then fumbles in the drawer and brings out a small bottle of lube, giving it a shake.
“I’m always prepared. Prepared to give you whatever you ask for.
As long as I agree, of course.” He grins at his own ridiculous statement.
“Let me get a new bottle of this.” He shakes the bottle again, cheekily.
“Strawberry, I think this morning, and then I’m happy to listen to your terms. And negotiate accordingly.
I hope you’ve got lots of things to negotiate on. ” He winks at me and jumps out of bed.
I know people compare men to statues. Greek gods in marble.
But he really is a work of art. Muscles on his back taut and flexing, his arse cheeks reminding me of two boiled eggs in a hanky.
Perfectly formed and delicious. His long legs are muscular, but not stocky—he’s lithe and graceful, not a beefcake.
I couldn’t have mail-ordered a better specimen. Even Dennis the Doll couldn’t match up.
Hearing him opening the cupboards in the bathroom, I grab a pencil and pad from the bedside table, and sit up with my pencil poised ready to write.
He stops dead when he comes out and sees me. “I’m impressed with your dedication to the negotiations. I’ll throw in an additional orgasm for you.”
He grins at me, and oh Christ, I’m not sure my negotiation skills are going to be up to this. I gulp, and of course he misses nothing.
“You know you’re supposed to be poker-faced when client-facing. You need to work on it.”
He slips back under the covers, taking a position lower than me, his head level with my breasts. I see the glint in his eye and I know I’ve lost before I’ve even begun.
“Hit me,” he states. Moving the covers lower, my tits now exposed to the colder air and my nipples standing up to be examined, he raises his eyebrows and smirks.
“Oh dear, not a good start. Your body is betraying you already. You’ve a traitor in your camp.
” His hands start to caress my body under the covers, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Err…” His hands are brushing circles on my stomach, moving downwards, and any sensible thought I had has now vacated the building. The sensations sublime, I’m all on remembering to breathe as I gasp and pant at his every touch.
“Do you want to up the stakes from five to one to ten to one? If you do, I want something in return.”
“Err…” I repeat. My lost ability for coherent thought and speech has not returned as yet.
His hands are gently coaxing my thighs apart. Millimetre by millimetre. His head drops forwards and his tongue licks up the side of my breast. But his eyes still have not left mine.
“Twenty to one. Lincoln, I am impressed with your appetites. I reckon I could do it. I could make you come five times before breakfast. Five before lunch. Five in between lunch and dinner. And then five after dinner. Or we could skip the before dinner and just do ten after. What do you say to that?”
I can’t say anything, his fingers have found their way to my clit, and he’s gently circling.
“Err…” Oh for fuck’s sake, what is wrong with me? Or is everything maybe too right?
He raises his eyebrows at me. “I’m not sure you’ve grasped the negotiation technique. Perhaps you need more tutelage.” He thrusts his fingers inside me, running his tongue over my nipple and sucking it into his mouth.
“Yesssss.” I moan out as he lazily licks at me, smirking when my eyes meet his. And if this is what being educated in negotiation tactics by Jude Greystone means, I plan to be his best student ever.
“Okay, now we’ve agreed to the twenty to one, I want to spank you.
And I’ll make it easy and start at five.
Normally, in trying to get the best deal, you start high and go lower.
In your case this morning, I’ll do the opposite.
With the spanking, anyway. My tongue, however, will start high and then go low. ”
He trails his fingers down my body, starting from my chin and back into my eager vagina. It clutches him. What the hell is happening to my body? It’s got a mind of its own.
“Err…” It’s the only word I know.
He shakes his head. “I think you need to revisit that podcast.”
He moves swiftly, pinning me down on the bed and removing the pencil and paper from my hands. He travels down my body, licking and biting at me, stopping at my pussy, which is now addicted to this man. It’s clenching and pulsing. Shouting out his name in morse code.
“Ahh, good morning my sweet.” He grins salacious up at me from between my legs before lowering his head and closing his eyes as he licks me bottom to top. Without warning, he then sits up and spins me over, slapping my arse cheeks.
“Err…” My only noise for the last five minutes has hit a higher note. Well, that’s progress, I guess.
“Arse up, baby. You are going to love this.”
The masterclass starts—spanking, kneading, kissing, biting. Pulling me onto all fours and licking at me from behind. Again and again. Until I don’t know my own name.
My moans and shouts are met by more forceful spanks. My body has capitulated once again, and I’m dripping for him. My thighs are covered in us both, his cock leaking precum and him rubbing it onto me. Edging me over and over again.
I can’t breathe. I have never had anyone hold my body in thrall. How can I love this so much? Why didn’t I know I did. I’m a thirty-eight-year-old woman. I’ve had three kids, for God's sake.
But I know the reason. No one ever took the time to find out. And I did not think to ask for it. I just laid back and thought of England, literally.
But he blocks out any negative thoughts. His chat is all positive, and he makes me feel like a princess. I want to please him. Fuck negotiations… I want to give him everything.
We miss breakfast, and Jude is insisting we change plans and do brunch, and then dinner.
To be honest, once he sees my lingerie, we nearly never get to brunch.
Silk and lace bra. Knicker set to match.
And a suspender belt near my waist attaching to the panties.
His eyes are on stalks. I have to bat his hands off to get my dress on. But eventually we head out.
“How will you fit in your obligations to me if we’re brunching and dining?
” We’re walking down the lagoon side towards a restaurant for brunch.
Another sunny day in Venice. It’s making me brave.
The hustle and bustle of tourists has yet again taken over the city.
I still can’t get over the sight of the boats.
The canals. Jude. It’s sensory overload.
“I’m a very creative man. Don’t worry about me. As long as you’re prepared to go along with everything I create. I’m home and dry. Although I would be very intrigued to know your forfeits for me.” He winks and nods at me.
“I’m thinking choir, and the knit and natter group.”
He stops dead, his face going pale. His theatrics have me in hysterics
“You wouldn’t. You witch. Cruel, cruel woman. Not the knit and natterers. You’d actually throw me into that nest of—of… of wool.” He’s clutching his chest. Wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “I’ll do it, I’m up to six already. I better get really creative.”
The look he gives me makes my blood fizz. Oh boy, maybe I went too far with the threat of the knit and natter.
We walk, we laugh, we shop. I can’t stop taking photographs. We stop and sit in one of the little hidden squares in the warren of alleys and passageways. I love it here. I feel weirdly like I’ve been here before, I’m so comfortable.
Maybe it’s him. He’s so familiar with it all.
If I get concerned we’re lost, he tells me not to worry.
Although at this point, when we haven’t seen a soul for ten minutes, I am starting to panic.
He’s been letting me lead. And I was so sure I was following the right path to a church the hotel recommended we see.
“We’re officially lost. Even google maps has given up the ghost." I show him my phone with a blank grid on it.
“My sister always tells her kids we’re never lost. We’re all just on an adventure.
Maybe you need to adopt that philosophy.
Let me see it.” He’s come up behind me, pressing the screen from around the back of me.
“Maybe we’re on a loooong adventure.” He chuckles, as he nuzzles my hair and neck.
“You smell divine.” I stiffen when I feel him press his hips into my backside.
“Jude—” His name comes out all breathy, like he’s stolen all the air.
“Honestly woman, keep saying my name like that and you might be in big trouble.” He nuzzles me more, and I feel his tongue run up the column of my neck. “I can’t stop thinking about your underwear. Let me see it. I need to check if it's still in place.”
He’s lost his mind. We’re in a street. Well, I look around, maybe an alley. But that’s a thoroughfare in Venice.
But no one is around. It’s completely deserted as he manoeuvres me against a wall, his arms trapping me in. I hear the faint ding ding of yet another bell. It’s my romantithon pinging another one off the Divine Checklist.
“Jude, someone might see.” I sound a bit panicked as his hand opens the buttons at the bottom of my dress and wanders up towards my thighs.
“No one will see. We just look like we’re having a bit of a cuddle.
” His fingers brush the silk of the knickers.
“Fuck me, they feel soft.” His fingers push them aside and he plunges inside me.
“But not as soft or as gorgeous as this though.” His face changes to totally serious.
His desire shining through his gorgeous brown-blue-green eyes.
“Come for me, here, in this street. Now. Don’t think, just feel.
That’s it, Lincoln.” His voice is low. He praises me as I thrust involuntarily into his hand, seeking out the friction he’s so good at giving.
I moan loudly. “Shhhh. Lincoln, you make a noise and I’ll spank you raw tonight. I’ll gag you, and fuck you so hard. My cock buried deep inside you.”
His grin is wide and dirty. The man is so far off the scale. Who the hell is he? Some sex devil. I know Venice is famous as a city of seduction. Casanova lived here. And he seems to be channelling all those same qualities. Enticing me into the same behaviour.
I groan again as I’m building into crescendo. He kisses me hard, taking all my noise. His eyes are open, watching me as I shatter all over his fingers, my body sagging into his.
“So fucking beautiful when you come. Open your eyes, baby.” I manage to lift my drooping lids. “Yes, how fucking gorgeous are your eyes. I could drown in them. I could drown in you, Emma Lincoln.”