21. Jude
Jude
The power had gone out almost an hour ago.
A high-pitched sound fills the air as wind rattles the windows. The only source of light comes from the fireplace. Shadows dance across the walls, shrinking and stretching with every crackle of burning wood. It’s cozy. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so content.
Taylor and I had claimed the space closest to the hearth, sprawled on a pile of blankets with a bottle of RumChata between us. Roman sits in his usual chair a short distance away. I can feel his eyes on us, but he hasn’t said a word the entire time.
A part of me wishes I could read his mind.
Taking another sip, I glance toward him. His broad shoulders seem rigid under that dark blue sweater. He’s been even more wound up since the day before—since I saw his interaction with Taylor through the kitchen window.
Hypocrite.
It pissed me off. Not his attraction to Taylor, or even Taylor’s obvious interest in him. I would still pay to watch them have sex. It’s how he looked right in my face and lied to me, how he tried to convince me I’d seen nothing.
Now, all I feel for him is pity.
“Sure you don’t want any?” I ask, raising the bottle at him.
His jaw tightens. “No.”
Taylor snorts beside me. “That’s his answer to everything.”
Roman shoots him a glare. Taylor grins at him. I lean back on one elbow, studying them, remembering what I saw through the window. The tension between them was as obvious as it is now.
And it’s turning me on.
I glance back at Roman. The firelight catches the hard planes of his face, throwing half of it into shadow. He looks like a man fighting a battle no one else can see. If only he knew how amazing it would feel to surrender.
“It’s freezing in here,” I point out to him.
He relaxes in his seat, tapping his fingers on the arms. “The fire is enough.”
“Bullshit.”
“Let me rephrase that. It is enough for me.”
“Or maybe you’re a glutton for punishment,” I reply.
Taylor laughs into his drink. For a second, the ghost of a smile tugs on Roman’s lips.
Just a second.
Then it disappears.
I raise the bottle again. “One drink.”
“No.”
“You’re impossible.”
Roman’s eyes meet mine. “Or maybe I just know my limits.”
His look lingers, long enough for heat to curl low in my stomach. Long enough for me to decide he’s not only talking about the alcohol. It feels as if someone sucked the air out of the room. He thinks I have no self-control, that I need help. I don’t. All I need is pure, raw pleasure.
And based on that agony on his face, he needs it, too.
Taylor shifts beside me, stretching his legs toward the fire. “It’s not as if you’re driving anywhere tonight,” he points out.
Silence from Roman’s end. He stares into the flames, and after a few seconds, he rises. A slow smile creeps on my face as he strides toward us. “There he is.”
His gaze narrows at me. “One drink.”
“Whatever helps you sleep,” I reply, handing him the bottle.
He takes a swallow, then another, until I lose count. When he has had his fill, he goes back to his seat. Disappointment hits me square in the chest, but the night is young. There’s a storm outside. We won’t be getting electricity anytime soon.
Taylor shifts closer to my side, resting his head on my shoulder.
Silently, we stare at the fire. My arm slips around his waist. It feels…
correct, as if it belongs there, as if he’s mine.
I brush the thought away. Taylor will never be mine.
For the next two months, we might have crazy, mind-blowing sex, but then he’s going to leave. I’m going to move on.
That’s the unspoken arrangement.
Which doesn’t explain why it’s making my stomach churn so uneasily.
Taylor snuggles up to me, his fingers dragging up my thigh.
My dick twitches. His hand brushes my lap, and he lets out a gentle sigh when he feels how hard I am.
He surprises me by cupping my erection. Having sex has made him bold, it seems. Or, maybe I’m seeing his true colors for the first time. Either way, I want him on top of me.
“Let’s grab a candle,” he whispers. “I can think of a better way to ride out the storm.”
I feel the weight of Roman’s gaze. Thick, violent waves of tension radiates from his body as he silently watches us. I could put him out of his misery and take Taylor behind closed doors, but that would be no fun.
What would be more exciting is showing Roman what he has been denying himself.
“I want you to ride me,” I whisper, shifting Taylor’s hand off my crotch. “Right here.”
He glances over to the corner. Roman stares back, deadpan. I drag my fingers up and down Taylor’s back. “It’s okay,” I assure him. Roman is still sitting there. He wants to watch.
Taylor pushes up on his knees and pulls down his sweatpants.
He still focuses his gaze on Roman. I unlock my belt and pull the pants over my hips.
Roman shifts in the seat, as if trying to make himself more comfortable, a tent forming in his pants.
I’m not sure what arouses me more: the thought of Taylor’s body gripping my dick, or knowing Roman will be watching with envy.
Maybe both.
Taylor kicks out of his pants and crawls on his knees, settling between my open legs. His sexy ass perches in the air like a tempting offering. I brush my fingers through his hair, gripping a healthy handful, lowering his head.
“Show me what that mouth can do,” I whisper.
Taylor wraps one fist around my length, his gaze flickering up to me. I expect to see shyness, a brief hesitation, but a sensual little devil stares back at me. My balls throb in response. Something tells me I’m in for a goddamn wild ride.
He licks the precum from my tip, then takes me inside his hot, wet mouth. And oh my fucking God… I’m in heaven. Or maybe it’s hell. Hot flames of pleasure lick the walls of my stomach when he swallows my entire fucking dick.
Holy shit.
No one has ever done that before. And to feel the tip at the back of his throat instantly unravels me. An orgasm builds in my groin as he slurps his way upward, swirling his tongue and licking fresh precum from the slit. “Holy fuck, that feels good, baby,” I groan, thrusting my hips.
A low rumble alerts me. For a moment, I’d forgotten Roman was still sitting there.
My gaze coasts over to him. He’s sitting straighter, unmoving.
Staring. I run my fingers through Taylor’s thick hair.
He takes me in his mouth once more. I jerk my hips, thrusting into his languid touch. “So good,” I whisper to Roman.
Roman still doesn’t move. For all I know, he might be frozen. I close my eyes to tune him out, absorbing the sweet sensation of Taylor’s dripping wet mouth sucking my soul through my dick.
But then the chair creaks. I open my eyes. Roman reclines, his hands curling on the armrest. I’m intrigued to find out how long he’ll remain sitting there. I reach for my pants, pulling out a condom from my wallet. Cupping Taylor’s jaw, I ease him off my dick.
“Ride me,” I whisper.
I brace his chest with my hand when he tries to straddle me. “Turn around.”
Understanding dawns on his face. He reverses his position, facing away from me. Facing the corner. Again, Roman shifts. I hear a muffled exhale. My eyes stay glued to him while Taylor slides down on me.
Taylor lets out a shuddering moan. Roman’s grip tightens.
My eyes remain on him as Taylor starts riding me, clutching my ankles.
Each slow, sensual bounce of his hips lights a spark of pleasure in my stomach.
Every sexy sound that he makes shreds another piece of Roman’s self-control.
Soon, his pelvis starts moving, thrusting.
He seems about ready to crush the arms of the chair.
I drag my fingers down Taylor’s back, spreading his ass cheeks, watching my cock slide in and out of his body. My eyes shift back to Roman. “He’s so fucking tight,” I whisper. “So deep.”
“Jesus, fuck.” Roman shoots up from his seat. He storms toward the exit, then stops. His fingers curl into fists. For a moment, the only sounds are the crackling fire and Taylor’s soft, intermittent moans.
“Roman,” he murmurs, riding me. “I told you, I want it, too.”
Silence.
Roman turns around. An awareness dances in his eyes. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”
I groan as Taylor takes me deeper inside him. His fingers dig into my skin. Agony seeps into Roman’s features, darkening his face. He looks absolutely wrecked, and I’d give anything to see him lose himself a little more.
“It’s just us,” I point out. “No one else will find out.”
Roman’s jaw clenches. I sense the battle going on in his head. Desire wrestling with duty. Need fighting against restraint. All it takes is a nudge in the right direction.
“One time,” I say.
The silence stretches. Taylor rocks faster, moaning louder. Roman’s hands uncurl. I expel a bated breath. Slowly, he closes the gap between us, every step looking like surrender.