Chapter 17 #2
I roll onto my side and pull the blanket up to my chest. My mind drifts back to the laughter, the dinner, the way Jude’s eyes swept over me before he left.
I can still feel the warmth of his hands on my face, the rough edge of his stubble against my skin, the way my heart tripped over itself when he kissed me.
That kiss…
I sigh and glance at the window again. The moon feels impossibly bright tonight, as if it’s watching me. My phone buzzes on the nightstand, interrupting the quiet. A text.
JUDE
I’ve missed you. I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to come back right now.
My heart slams against my ribs. I glance at the clock. 11:03 p.m. My fingers hover over the screen, trembling a little. I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. But before my brain can catch up with my heartbeat, I type:
Why don’t you?
The moment I send it, nausea wells up. The typing bubbles appear.
Disappear. Reappear. I hold my breath. The air feels so thick I could choke.
Oh damn. What have I done? I drop the phone onto the blanket and press my hands over my face, half-laughing, half-panicking.
The image of his mouth, his voice, his warmth. ..it all crashes over me at once.
When I close my eyes, the memory rises without permission. The first time we ever crossed that line, back when everything between us felt new and beautiful.
~ A memory ~
The lock on my bedroom door clicks shut, a tiny, definitive sound that seems to echo in the sudden silence.
My heart is already pounding against my ribs, a frantic little bird trapped in a cage of bone and anticipation.
Jude turns from the door, and the sight of him makes me nearly breathless.
I’m standing by my second-story window, hugging myself, remembering how he looked at me during dinner with my parents.
I almost melted into my mac and cheese.
Jude’s black T-shirt stretches tight across the defined planes of his chest and shoulders, and he runs a hand through his already tousled black hair.
But it’s his eyes that hold me captive—hazel pools, usually so full of laughter, now dark with a heat I’m only just beginning to understand.
He looks like a dream, a dangerous, beautiful dream I never want to wake up from.
“Your parents are definitely asleep?” he murmurs quietly.
I can only nod, pressing my lips together to keep from making a sound. The house is quiet, save for the sound of a YouTube playlist playing on a dark screen. My world has shrunk to this room, to the dim glow of my salt lamp, to him.
He closes the distance between us in two slow strides, not touching me, just..
.looking. His gaze warms my skin everywhere it lands.
He wants to have sex with me. The thought is a lightning strike, terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
I can see the desire tightening the line of his jaw, the faint tremor in the hand he brings up to cup my cheek. But he’s so careful and considerate.
We’ve never done anything really sexual before. The most we’ve done is make out. Our relationship bloomed through becoming best friends who kissed...a lot. But he never made me feel pressured to do anything more. Now I’m eighteen and I’m ready for...everything.
His thumb strokes my bottom lip. “You’re trembling, Em.”
“I know,” I whisper, the words barely audible. I’m scared. I’m excited. I’ve never wanted anything more.
He leans in, and his kiss is achingly soft.
I answer by parting my lips, letting his tongue sweep in to meet mine.
It’s a slow, deep exploration that makes my knees weak.
His hands slide down my back, settling on my hips to steady me, pulling my body against his.
I can feel the hard ridge of his arousal straining against his jeans, and heat floods my core.
He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against mine. “Can I touch you?” he breathes, his voice thick.
My “yes” comes out as a shaky exhale.
He guides me backwards until my legs hit the edge of my bed. He sits, pulling me to stand between his knees. His large, warm hands skate up my thighs, pulling my soft sleep shorts down and out of the way until his fingers find the damp center of my underwear.
A sharp moan escapes me before I can stifle it. I clap a hand over my mouth, my eyes wide. Oh god, my parents. Shut the hell up.
Jude’s eyes spark with something wild, a feral gleam at the sound. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my underwear and draws them down my legs, his gaze never leaving mine. Not once. Until I step out of them, using his hand to balance, feeling utterly exposed.
He coaxes me onto the bed, laying me back against my pillows. He stretches out beside me, propped on an elbow, his other hand returning to its possessive claim on my inner thigh. He pushes my legs apart, just a little, and the cool air kisses my wetness, making me shiver.
“You’re so beautiful, Em,” he whispers, his voice full of appreciation. His fingers part me, and the first deliberate, feather-light stroke over my clit has my back arching off the mattress. Oh. Oh. A broken sound catches in my throat, and I bite down on my knuckle.
“Don’t,” he murmurs, gently pulling my hand away from my mouth. “I want to hear you. Just be quiet for me, okay?”
I nod frantically, my eyes pleading with him for more. He gives it to me. His touch becomes more purposeful, circling my clit with a perfect, maddening pressure. My hips jerk upwards, seeking more friction.
“There you go, baby,” he rasps, watching my face as I begin to unravel. “Show me see what you like.”
The coil of pleasure tightening low in my belly is relentless. I’m moaning openly now, my attempts at silence completely abandoned, my head thrashing on the pillow. His name is a mantra on my lips. My hand rests atop his, guiding him, and my eyes roll back in pure ecstasy.
I love feeling his hand move. It’s so steady.
“Jude...Jude...don’t stop.”
“Come on, Emma. Come for me, sweetheart.”
His command is all it takes. My orgasm crashes over me, a silent, screaming wave of pure sensation that whites out my vision. My body seizes under his relentless fingers as he guides me through the shattering release.
I float back to myself in pieces, boneless and breathless.
Jude is leaning over me, his eyes dark with pride and a hunger that’s only grown. He brings his glistening fingers to his lips and sucks them clean, a groan rumbling in his chest. The sight is the most erotic thing I’ve ever witnessed.
Before I can process it, he shifts down the bed, settling between my legs. He presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to my inner thigh. “You’re not done yet.”
His tongue...oh, god, his tongue. It’s flat and hot and perfect as it lazily swirls over my sensitive clit.
I fist my hands in my comforter, a high-pitched whine escaping me.
He doesn’t just taste me; he devours me.
Until I’m trembling on the edge of another climax I didn’t know was possible already.
The pleasure is so intense it borders on pain, a sweet, aching torture.
He’s murmuring against me, words I can’t decipher, but the vibration alone is enough to make me cry out.
I peak again, a softer, rolling wave this time, my body melting into the mattress.
He gentles his touch, kissing my inner thighs as I come down, my entire body vibrating.
When he moves back up my body, he’s unbuckling his belt.
The sound of his zipper coming down is deafening.
He takes my hand, his own trembling slightly, and guides it to his cock.
He’s so big. My fingers don’t even meet when I wrap them around him. Holy hell.
He chuckles.“It’s okay, Em. Like this.”
I’m clumsy, and my movements are definitely unsure.
But his sharp intake of breath, the way his eyes roll back in his head, gives me confidence.
I tighten my grip, sliding my hand up and down his length, fascinated by the slickness beading at his tip.
He’s murmuring encouragement, his hips moving in a shallow rhythm.
“I want to try something else,” I whisper, my own desire rekindling, wanting to give him the same earth-shattering pleasure he gave me.
He smirks, his tired eyes staring into my soul. “Open your mouth, baby.”
I swallow hard, staring at his size. But I lean down anyway.
The first press of him against my lips is intimidating.
I let my jaw go slack, and he slides inside.
I don’t know what to do, so I just relax my mouth and let him set the pace.
It’s shallow at first, just the head rocking past my lips.
But his groans, the way his fingers tighten in my hair, make me want more.
“Fuck, Emma...so good…” he chokes out.
I take him deeper, and he lets out a sound that’s pure agony and ecstasy. I look up, and the sight of him above me, his face a mask of desperate pleasure, his muscles tight with tension, sends a thrill through me. I’m doing this. I’m making him feel this way.
His thrusts into my mouth become more urgent, his control clearly fraying. “I’m close, baby...you can pull away…”
But I don’t. I hold him there, and I swallow just as his entire body goes rigid. A guttural, choked groan tears from his throat as he spills into my mouth. I feel the hot pulses, and I swallow every last drop. I suddenly feel a surge of satisfaction.
His body relaxes, and he pulls me into his arms, his heart hammering against my back. He’s breathing like he’s just run a race, his body still trembling with aftershocks. He nuzzles into my hair. “We’re definitely doing that more,” he chuckles against my ear. “I love you so fucking much.”
I nestle closer, completely satisfied. “I love you, too.”
~*~
I blink, crash-landing back in my body. I feel hot, and I clench my thighs tighter from the memory of him. The text still glows on my screen.
Why don’t you?
My heart hammers. I can almost see him reading it, running a hand through his hair, that small, self-punishing smile he gets when he’s caught between wanting something and thinking he shouldn’t. Another minute passes. Then my phone lights up.
JUDE
I can’t tonight. Trust me, Em, I really want to.
I sit up, the sheet twisting around my legs. I reread it three times. The words don’t hurt the way rejection usually does. I type back.
Okay. I get it.
But my thumb hovers over “send.” Because what I want to say is I need you here. What I want to say is come anyway. When I finally press the screen, it feels final.
The moonlight pours across the bed. I picture him with Micah, likely half-asleep. He’s probably staring at the ceiling, same as me, trying to figure out how much he cares. My phone buzzes once more.
JUDE
I’d love to be there with you. Sleeping beside you was always when I got the best sleep. Goodnight, Em. Sweet dreams.
I swallow the lump in my throat and type back.
Goodnight, Jude. I did, too.
I don’t hit send right away. I just stare at his name, remembering how his hands felt on my face earlier, how easy it would’ve been to fall back into him completely.
Logically, I know he’s not a patient. He’s the love of my life.
He’s never been anything to me other than that.
So why am I so scared to give him more? To give him what I know I need to?
I sigh, then I hit send.
I know this could destroy me...but I’m choosing it anyway.