Chapter 28
twenty-eight
GREER
The purr of the motorcycle is a lullaby for the town as we cruise down Main Street.
The stars are out more than I’ve ever noticed them before, but maybe that’s just my viewpoint from my new favorite place—Jude’s bike.
Straddling steel and leather, I can experience the warm breeze skating across my skin, the scent of fresh-cut grass, the ripple of Jude’s abs with each turn.
It’s only nine p.m. on a Friday, and Parran looks like it’s rolled up the sidewalks. Well-spaced streetlights keep the park visible from the street, but the entry gates are closed to visitors.
It feels all wrong, like there should be a festival on the streets. As Jude slows down to turn into the alleyway by my apartment, my body vibrates with life.
I forgot to turn on my exterior light, leaving my front door in almost complete darkness.
Once the engine is killed and the kickstand is down, Jude uses his phone to illuminate the space around us, then reaches for my hand to help me off the bike.
Once my feet find purchase on the pavement, he uses gentle fingers to help pull off my helmet. "Like the new route I took?"
"I loved it. The view was stunning." Sometimes the beauty of the bayou takes my breath away.
We take the two steps to the door hand in hand. Jude stops at the stoop. "Wait."
"Did you forget something?"
I can’t make out his expression in the dark, but he grabs onto my hips and draws me against his rock hard body. "This was a real date. I get a kiss at the doorstep," he insists.
"You aren’t coming in?" He’d better, or I’m dragging him upstairs.
He scoffs, "Of course, but who am I to deprive us of the proper ending of a date?"
"Well, maybe I’m not the kind of girl who kisses on a first date," I flirt.
"Good thing I’m the type of man who takes what he wants anyway." And then he does exactly that.
A normal kiss is a show of affection. With Jude, the press of his lips to mine is a possession. It always overwhelms my senses with a ripple of molten pleasure I feel down to my toes.
This one, though? It’s all of that, but…
enticing, playful. He coaxes my lips apart, his tongue diving into my mouth, tasting me.
I can hear our heavy, mixed breathing in the darkness, taste the after-dinner mint.
When I sigh contentedly, his touch turns more dominant, desperate.
There’s a sudden coolness on my back. He’s pressed me into the door.
An erection I know is the size of a baseball bat waits for me.
Feeling like a brazen hussy, I slide my hand down the front of the denim, cupping his manhood.
He pistons his hips and groans, “You’re going to be the death of me. ”
He grasps my hand and pins it against the door above my head, then the other, ravishing my mouth until I’m writhing against his thigh, desperate for friction. He moves away and makes a tsking sound, “Are you trying to use me to get off, Baby Doll?”
“Please,” I beg.
He presses his lips against mine in a fast, sweet kiss and chuckles. “Bad news. I’m not letting you finish yet, even if it is dark out here.”
As he pulls the key from his pocket, I grouse, “That was absolutely not a first date kiss.”
He has the audacity to let out an amused chuckle. “You complaining? Cause I can try again…”
He catches a glimpse of my frustrated scowl when the exterior door opens, and the light from the enclosed stairwell floods towards us. After gesturing for me to go first, he stops long enough to relock the first level entryway.
Jude might be laughing that I’m taking two steps at a time, but he’s caught up to me.
Hank’s sleeping in his playpen, oblivious to my arrival home. Heart beating erratically in my chest, I toss my cross-body purse on the counter.
Jude takes the time to lock up the interior door as well, then turns to me. He cracks his neck, showing off the intricate dark ink on one side. His movements become sensual, hooded eyes right on me. He starts flicking off the lights I’ve left on. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed, Baby Doll?”
Dumbstruck I ask, “Are we going to sleep?”
“No, but you’re going to pass out when we’re done,” he says with great certainty. A surge of desire courses through my veins. Why is it that confidence in a man is the biggest aphrodisiac of them all?
“You’re different tonight.”
He looks to the side as if searching for the right words, then starts to roll up the sleeves of the wine colored shirt he wore to dinner. “I’m feeling a little…playful.”
The flood of warmth between my legs quadruples. This man can turn me on like no other. “That sounds intriguing. Does this have anything to do with the big ass bag you brought over earlier?”
He looks straight at me in that biker no nonsense way and says, “You’ll find out soon enough.”
I can’t rush into the bedroom quick enough. My heavy boots are off the minute I’m in the room. Slipping down my jeans, I toss them in the bathroom hamper along with my top.
My nipples are hard against the white lace of my bra.
There’s a rustling sound, then Jude comes to stand in the doorway of the bathroom and leans his large frame against the doorjamb.
He’s taken his cut off, leaving him in the button down with rolled up sleeves.
His tattoos are the most tempting eye candy.
With lust filled eyes, he watches as I lather facewash in my hands and smear it across my skin.
After I rinse and pat my skin dry, he smirks, stands upright, and saunters towards me.
Our eyes lock in the mirror, his cock pressed against me through his jeans.
“So perfect,” he says in the tenderest of voices.
He brushes back my hair and presses gentle lips against the curve of my neck, an erotic daydream come to life.
My legs tremble with anticipation as he skims his hand up to cup my breasts through the lace.
He squeezes them in his hands and grazes his teeth along my ear. “You good to go?”
He means my blood sugar, since sex is, well, a workout. “Is this why you picked Italian for dinner?” I accuse playfully. Our meal was carbs, lots of them, with fat and protein to keep my sugars regulated.
“I believe in planning ahead,” he affirms.
“Why am I always naked and you’re not?” I quip.
As if dared, he unfastens the top three buttons of his shirt and pulls it over his head.
He tosses it in the same direction as mine, leaving his chest bare.
I love the placement of his Lovers tattoo on his pec, the tattoo physically closest to his heart.
A fine dusting of dark hair covers some of the scars on his chest, drifting down six pack abs.
“We need to get rid of this for now,” he says, reaching for my bra strap to pull off my insulin pump.
He unclips the tubing from the part adhered to my body.
With one arm wrapped around me, he uses the other to turn off my now disconnected pump.
“How did you know how to do that?”
“I watched YouTube. I can’t take care of you while we’re in bed if I don’t know how to operate your pump.”
It feels like a lead ball’s been catapulted straight into my chest. An insulin pump is such an intimate part of my being that my own parents haven’t even fiddled with it in years.
Yet here I am, getting all gooey because Jude’s watched an instructional video.
More than that, I trust him with the device that keeps me alive.
Reaching behind myself, I loop my arm backward to squeeze the nape of his neck and whisper, “You don’t have to take care of me.”
“It’s my job. The less you have to deal with, the more your mind is where I want it to be.”
I shiver with pleasure as he hooks a finger through my panties and slides them down. “Enjoyed our kiss, did we?” he asks, acknowledging the damp fabric.
“Quite a bit, actually. You always seem to know precisely what buttons to press.” After my panties hit the tile floor, I step out of the satin and look back at my reflection, letting my man lead. He unhooks the clasp of my bra, and it joins my bikini cut underwear in the pile.
With one hand fondling my breast, he runs his fingertips down my belly, sending goosebumps over every inch of my body.
He cups my wet sex and makes a pained sound.
Jude lifts my hair again and kisses the nape of my neck.
His eyes are trained on mine in the mirror again when he says, “One day I’m going to fuck you in front of a mirror just so you can see the absolute perfection that is you. ”
I see bruises from injections, an unsightly pump site that makes me feel half Cyborg, and eyelashes that are so pale I have to wear mascara.
I turn to face him, my hardened nipples peaking against his chest. I run my hand tantalizingly slow down his torso, past the scars left from his accident. “Funny, I see the exact same thing.”
My palm creeps down his stomach until I reach soft denim.
He sucks in a deep breath as my hand continues downward, groaning as I tease his manhood.
It’s already straining against the fabric.
I brush my flatted palm against his length and stroke him.
I cup his manhood in my palm, then tease my index finger back up his length.
“You’ve been hard all night. I was half tempted to bring you to the bathroom at one point. ”
“Oh yeah, why don’t you show me what you’d thought about doing?”