Page 7 of Filthy Rich Brother's Best Friends

He lifts his glass but doesn’t look away. “Only when one of them comes on my table, and runs out before I can ask for her number.”

I cough. Harper cackles.

This night has been completely turned upside down.

And I already know I’m not going to stop it.

Somehow we find our way back to silently staring into each other’s eyes. I hear Harper’s chair scrape back at some point. She mutters something about being safe, and kisses the top of my head.

Jude and I don’t stay long after that. We both know where this is going.

We walk out together into the night air. Neither of us is fit to drive so we take an Uber to his place.

We barely make it through the front door before he has me pressed up against it.

Jude’s hand curves around the back of my neck as his mouth finds mine. The kiss lands hard. Full pressure. Zero patience. It’s the kind of kiss that knocks the air out of you, and you desperately want more.

God help me, I melt for him like a puddle right there in the entryway.

His hands skim up my sides, splaying across my waist. I feel his thumb drag along the underside of my breast, and I gasp into his mouth.

“I spent the last several hours wondering what your tits would feel like,” he murmurs, and I don’t know whether to moan or punch him for assuming he’d get to find out. I go with the moan. It seems like a better choice.

He drags my shirt over my head—or at least he tries to. He tries to tug the fabric free, but then he frowns. Pauses. Tugs again. “Wait—why won’t this—” His fingers dig at the edge, confused, and that’s it. I lose it and start laughing.

“It’s a bodysuit,” I manage between giggles. “It snaps. Like, under.”

His eyes go wide. “Under-under?”

I nod, still laughing. “Yeah.” I pop the fastener open myself, and he finally pulls it off triumphantly. His mouth is on me a second later.

He kisses down my neck, across my collarbone, over the swell of my bra-covered breast. He brushes his thumb across my nipple until it hardens. My back arches. His mouth finds my neck again, and he groans when I clutch at his hair.

“You’re unreal,” he murmurs.

Then his hips roll forward, and everything inside me short-circuits.

I grab his shoulders for balance. His hand drops to my hip and pulls me tighter against him, and I feel the friction with every move of his hips. His cock presses against me, and I swear I moan into his mouth.

I reach down and pop the button on his jeans, fumble with the zipper, and finally manage to drag it down. He sighs deeply when I slide my hand inside. Then he groans when I wrap my fingers around him.

He’s thick and hard, already leaking, and the sound he makes when I grip him tighter is going to live in my head forever. His eyes close for a moment. When they open again, they’re darker.

“Jesus,” he mutters, his head dropping to my shoulder as I stroke him once, then twice.

I smile. “I take it to mean that feels good?”

He laughs, breath warm against my skin.

Then he kisses me again—slower this time, but no less intense. His lips slide over mine, tongue teasing until I whimper. He swallows the sound, and kisses me deeper. My bra is gone before I realize he’s unclasped it. It slips down my arms and hits the floor, and then his mouth is on me—hot and open and hungry.

He sucks one nipple between his lips, groaning as I arch into him. His tongue flicks, teeth grazing just enough to make megasp. Then he moves to the other, giving it the same attention while he tightens his grip on my waist. The man is barely holding himself back.

And then he really doesn’t.

He wraps an arm around my waist, and lifts me up. I squeak, grabbing at his shoulders again as he carries me toward the bedroom. His mouth never strays far from mine, nipping and kissing and sucking, fully aware of the chaos he’s creating.

The second my back hits his mattress, he pulls back just enough to look me over—and the heat in his eyes nearly undoes me.