23. Chapter 23 #2
“For months, he’s hurt me for looking at your beautiful face,” he whispers, my heart clenching at the vulnerability in his voice. “So give me pleasure instead. While I look at you.”
I swallow hard, realizing exactly what he’s asking of me. The thought alone sends a sharp, liquid heat straight to my core. “Are you sure?” My voice is a breathless sound. “I don’t want to…I don’t want to push too far.”
His gaze searches my face, even as a tremor runs through his shoulders. His hazel eyes are dark, pupils blown with a need that seems to terrify him as much as it consumes him. “Please.” The word is ragged. “I need this. I need…you.”
I swallow a sob. I missed his gentle soul from the moment he left me on my front porch years ago.
He’s far too kind and pure to have gone through anything he’s been put through.
I nod, and only then do I realize my hands are trembling where they rest on his shoulders.
I can feel the solid muscle beneath his shirt, the heat of his skin bleeding through the cotton.
I close my eyes for a moment, truly enjoying the warmth I’ve missed so much.
Slowly, I ease off his lap, my knees feeling weak.
My eyes flick once, instinctively, to the small, dark lens of the camera in the corner.
He’s watching me, his breathing shallow.
I remember how gentle he was with me for my first time years ago.
He took it slow and checked in with me with every movement. He ensured I was safe.
My turn.
I reach for the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head in one slow motion.
The air is cool on my skin. His gaze scorches a path from my collarbones down to the waistband of my jeans.
I unfasten them, push them down my hips, stepping out of them until I’m standing before him in nothing but my underwear.
His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek.
I hook my thumbs in the lace of my panties and slide them down, letting them pool at my feet. I am completely bare for him. His eyes sweep over my naked body—the curve of my waist, the swell of my breasts. He just stares, his chest rising and falling with control.
My trembling fingers go to the buttons of his jeans. He just watches my face as I work the first button free, then the next, until I can ease the fly open. I slip my hand inside, and he sucks in a sharp breath.
I wrap my fingers around him, freeing him. He’s thick and heavy in my hand, and a possessive thrill shoots through me.
He’s mine. He’s always been mine.
“On your knees.”
I still, the order sending a jolt through my system. But I do what he says, and sink down before him.
“Look at me,” he demands, his voice strained.
I lift my eyes to his. The conflict there is evident. There’s panic, need, self-loathing, and love. It’s all swirling in the hazel depths. He’s holding onto his control by a thread.
I don’t give him time to overthink it. I lean forward, my lips parting, and take him into my mouth with a slow, deliberate glide of my tongue.
“Fuck—” The word is a ragged gasp. His entire body jerks.
I hollow my cheeks, sucking as I draw back, then sink down again, taking him deeper. A broken groan falls from his lips, his head kicking back, exposing the long, beautiful line of his neck.
I settle into a rhythm, one hand wrapping around the base of him, the other resting on his powerfully tense thigh. I take him as deep as I can, my throat relaxing. I swallow, the constriction making his hips jerk involuntarily.
“Oh, my god,” he hisses. And after a few minutes of driving him into a frenzy, he exhales. “Ride me.”
The command is soft, but it still leaves no room for argument. I wouldn’t want to, anyway. He’s deciding how this goes. So I do as he says, and I stand on shaky legs. His gaze has turned dark. But this time, it isn’t with the desire to kill me. It’s with lust.
“Keep looking at me,” he breathes.
I do. I stare into his eyes as I lower myself, taking him inch by slightly painful inch.
His jaw locking as I work him deeper. When he’s fully seated, we both go perfectly still.
And then I kiss him again, my hips beginning a slow, torturous ride.
He’s holding himself together, I can see and feel that.
But when his tongue swirls over mine, I lose it.
I can’t help myself, so I ride faster, because I need this, too.
I need him.
“Are you okay?” I whisper, my voice trembling.
Another sound escapes him, one that sounds like a plea this time. “Keep. Fucking. Going.”
He meets my rhythm, his own hips lifting to drive up into me. His mouth finds mine again in a searing, open kiss.
“I’ve missed you,” I pant against his mouth, my movements becoming frantic. “I’ve missed you so fucking much, Jude.”
His eyes lock on mine, a flash of devastation consuming his expression.
But I throw my head back, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt. I can’t see that look. The look that says, I abandoned you, and I’m sorry.
I can’t.
Moans spill from me, my orgasm building, winding tighter with every drag of him inside me.
“Eyes on me,” he reminds me.
I force my gaze back to his. And now, his eyes are wild and full of love and fear. His lips part, holding my stare. And then, I shatter. My orgasm detonates, ripping through my entire body, clenching around him.
“Ugh, baby.” His jaw locks with a rough groan, his entire body seizing as his release barrels into him.
My hips slow when I feel him pulsing inside me.
His eyes never leave mine, holding me captive in that moment of pure, vulnerable surrender as he fills me.
For a long moment, we stay like that, panting, foreheads pressed together, sharing the same air.
“Emma,” he says, breathless.
“Yeah?”
He licks his lips, his gaze dropping to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “Uncuff me. Please.”
I stare into his beautiful eyes, finally seeing my Jude in them. The boy I fell in love with. The man who still had my heart in Seaside. And the man he is now. The rockstar. The killer. The fucking monster in the dark. All of them collide into the incredible and beautiful person he is right now.
I ease myself off of him, glancing once again at the camera behind us, hoping that our friends have at least turned away for this. Then, I reach for the key left on the bed, lean forward, and unlock it. And the moment the cuffs clink open, he’s on me.
Jude lifts me as if I weigh nothing, slamming me down onto the dresser. “I need more,” he growls, yanking my hips toward the edge and abruptly thrusting back inside me.