Chapter 9 - Nora
I have no idea what I'm doing.
My hands are shaking as I work his belt, my heart racing so hard I can feel it in my throat. I've never been this bold. Never initiated like this. Never dropped to my knees for a man and told him I wanted to make him feel good.
With my ex, I tried in the beginning. Tried to be spontaneous, to start things, to show him I wanted him. But he shut that down fast. Said it was too slutty when women initiated. Said real men were supposed to be in control. Said I was being desperate.
So, I stopped trying.
Stopped initiating.
Stopped wanting.
Until now.
Until Judge, who's looking at me like I'm the most precious thing he's ever seen. Who didn't complain when I started this. Who didn't call me slutty or desperate or any of the things my ex made me feel.
Who's just watching me with heat in his eyes and something that looks almost like reverence.
I pull his cock free from his boxers and he's thick.
Fucking thick. Longer than my ex by a good two inches, and so much thicker my hand barely wraps around him completely.
The head is flushed dark, already leaking, and when I stroke him once, he makes this low sound in his throat that goes straight between my legs.
I lean forward and take him into my mouth.
The taste explodes on my tongue. He’s salty and musky, and I wrap my lips around the head, sucking gently. Judge's hand flies to my hair. Not pushing. Not forcing. Just threading through the strands like he needs something to hold onto.
"Fuck," he breathes. "That's… Nora—"
I take him deeper. Or try to. He's so thick I can barely fit half of him, my jaw stretching, but I keep going. Keep pushing myself because if he could put his life on the line for us, the least I can do is this. The least I can do is make him feel half as good as he makes me feel.
I gag slightly as I push deeper. My eyes water. Saliva pools in my mouth, dripping from the corners of my lips, making everything wet and messy.
My ex hated this. Hated when I was messy. Would complain if I got too wet, too loud, too anything.
But Judge—
"Jesus, you're incredible," Judge groans. His head tilts back against the couch, his mouth falling open, his hand tightening in my hair. "So fucking incredible."
I look up at him through my lashes. His eyes are dark, glazed with pleasure, completely focused on me. On what I'm doing to him. And something in me unfurls. Something that's been locked away for so long I forgot it existed.
Power.
I have power over this man. This enormous, dangerous, capable man is falling apart because of me.
I keep sucking him, hollowing my cheeks, using my tongue along the underside where I can feel a thick vein pulsing. My hand comes up to cup his heavy balls and I massage them gently while I work my mouth up and down his length.
Judge makes a sound like he's dying. "Nora, shit, I'm close—"
I don't stop. Don't slow down. I want this. Want to taste him, to feel him lose control, to know I made him feel this good.
But his hand tightens in my hair, gently pulling me off him. "Stop. Please. I need you to stop."
I pull off immediately, panic flooding through me. "Did I hurt you? Are your ribs okay? Your shoulder? I'm sorry, I should have been more careful!"
"No." Judge's voice is strained. Breathless. "You're perfect. Too perfect. I was about to come, and I don't want to. Not yet. Not before I give you everything back."
"Give me… What do you mean?"
"I mean—" Judge shifts on the couch, wincing slightly. "My whole body still hurts like hell, so I can't give you everything I want to. Can't fuck you the way you deserve. But I'm going to try. I'm going to give you everything I've got."
Heat floods through me. Between my legs. In my chest. Everywhere. But I see the pain in his face. See how he's holding himself. See the bruises still covering his torso, the way his shoulder is wrapped tight.
"No," I say. I stand, placing my hand on his chest over his heart. "Today, you let me help you. You just sit back and feel good. Can you do that?"
Judge stares at me like I just said something in a foreign language. "Nora—"
I don't let him argue. I hook my thumbs into my jeans and push them down, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side. My underwear is plain cotton. Nothing sexy, nothing special, but Judge's eyes darken like I'm wearing the finest lingerie.
"You're gorgeous," he breathes.
I take off my top and then reach behind me, unhook my bra, let it fall. My breasts spill free: large, heavy, pale skin marked with faint stretch marks. I've always been self-conscious about them. Too big. Too soft. My ex barely touched them, said they weren't his type.
But Judge is staring at them like they're the most beautiful things he's ever seen.
"Fucking gorgeous," he says again. His good hand reaches out, cupping one breast, thumb brushing over the nipple. I gasp at the contact. "Every inch of you."
I climb onto the couch, straddling his lap gently. Trying not to jostle his injuries. His cock is right there between us, hard and throbbing, and I reach down to guide him.
I press against him, and his cock slides through my folds. Coated in my wetness. I'm soaked. Dripping. More wet than I've been in years.
"I'm ready," I whisper. "Feel how ready I am."
Judge's eyes flutter closed. "Fuck. You're… You're dripping."
"For you." I position him at my entrance, the thick head pressing against me. "Just for you."
I whisper in his ear, my breath hot against his skin. "Relax and enjoy."
Then I sink down onto him.
Oh God.
He's so thick, filling me completely, reaching places my ex never touched. I have to go slow, taking him inch by inch, my body adjusting to it.
Judge's hand grips my hips. His fingers dig into my soft flesh, and I can already imagine the bruises they'll leave. My skin marks easily, always has. By tomorrow I'll wake up with the imprint of his fingers on my body.
And I'm going to love every single mark.
I bottom out, taking him completely, and we both groan. He's so deep. So perfectly, impossibly deep.
"Christ," Judge breathes. "You feel—I can't—"
I start to move. Grinding first, getting used to the fullness, then lifting my hips and sinking back down. Finding a rhythm. My hair falls around us like a curtain, my breasts bouncing with every movement.
Judge's hand moves from my hips to my breasts, cupping them, squeezing, his thumb brushing over my nipples until they're hard peaks.
"That's it," Judge groans. "Ride me just like that. You look so fucking beautiful taking my cock."
I bounce harder. Faster. My thighs burning, my core clenching, pleasure building with every stroke. This is nothing like sex with my ex. Nothing like the quick encounters where he'd thrust a few times and finish without caring if I did.
This is everything.
But then Judge is moving. His good arm wraps around my waist, his hand supporting my ass, and suddenly I'm lifted. He's standing, actually standing, with me wrapped around him, his cock still buried inside me.
"Judge, what are you doing?" I gasp. "Your ribs, your shoulder, you shouldn't be—"
"There's no way I'm letting you do all the work," he says roughly. He carries me across the small room. Three steps, four, until my back hits the wall. The cold surface is a shock against my heated skin. "Not for our first time."
Our first time.
Like there will be more.
Like this is the beginning of something instead of the end.
Judge adjusts his grip, his hand firm under my ass, and starts to thrust. Really thrust. His hips flexing, driving up into me, hitting that spot deep inside that makes everything feel even better.
"Oh God," I moan. My head falls forward, resting against him, my hands scrambling for purchase on his back. My nails dig into his skin through his shirt. "Judge—"
"Say my name," he demands. His voice is rough, strained. "My real name. Warren. Say it."
"Warren." It comes out breathless. Desperate. "Warren, please—"
He's fucking me with a smile on his face. An actual smile. Like this brings him joy. Like being inside me, making me feel good, is the best thing that's ever happened to him.
My ex never smiled during sex. Barely looked at me. Just used my body and rolled over when he was done.
But Warren, Judge, he's looking right at me. Watching my face. Reading every expression, every gasp, adjusting his angle until I'm moaning with every thrust.
"I want a future with you," he says suddenly. His eyes lock on mine, intense and sure even while he's buried inside me. "I know it's fast. I know we barely know each other. But I want this. Want you. Want Grace. Want to be part of your family if you'll have me."
Tears spring to my eyes. "I want that too. God, Warren, I want it all—"
One second I'm climbing, pleasure building, and the next I'm falling. Rolling my eyes back, trembling, writhing against him, completely losing control of my own body. Every nerve ending lights up at once. My core clenches around him so hard he groans, his rhythm stuttering.
"Fuck, Nora… I'm close—"
"Don't stop," I gasp. "Please don't stop. Keep fucking me until you can't anymore. Please—"
"I won't." His voice is fierce. Final. "I won't stop. Not now. Not ever."
Three more thrusts and he's gone. Spilling inside me with a groan that sounds like it's ripped from his soul. I feel it. Hot spurts of cum coating my inner walls, so much of it that it leaks out around his cock, dripping down between us.
But he doesn't stop.
Even as he's coming, even as his cock throbs inside me, he keeps thrusting. Keeps fucking me through his orgasm and into the aftershocks of mine. The wet sounds are obscene, filthy, and I've never heard anything more perfect.
"Warren," I whisper. "Oh God, Warren—"
He captures my mouth with his. The kiss is messy, desperate, all tongue, teeth and gasping breaths. His cock is still pulsing inside me, still leaking, and I can feel everything. The warmth. The fullness. The absolute rightness of this moment.
When he finally stills, when the last aftershock fades, we're both breathing hard. Sweating. Trembling.