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It promises a plethora of things, many of which I’ve spent entirely too many hours fantasizing about. It’s still dark outside, but the precursors of dawn are all around us. A hazy softness whirls in with the stark blue of night, painting the sky above the buildings out my window a shade of cerulean Miranda Priestly would be proud of.
My whole body burns and aches from the strain this many hours of arousal without culmination have put on it, and I don’t know that I’ll be able to continue much longer without shattering.
Jude doesn’t wait for direction, instead grabbing my hand, pulling me away from the door, and slamming it behind me. The sound echoes into the otherwise quiet space like a snap of a rubber band.
Pulling me behind him, Jude moves at a fast clip down the hallway toward my bedroom. The fact that he knows where to go already gives me a small thrill I’m not entirely expecting—almost as if we’re a couple or something—and I triple the speed of my feet to keep up with him and then some.
Brushing past him, I turn to move backward, pulling him along with me, and watch as his face transforms completely from the teasing man who spent the night trying to balance work and taunting me, to a man who means fucking business.
No more messing around, no more foreplay—Jude is going to fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before. I can feel it.
When the backs of my legs hit the bed, I fall to my ass and shove into it, crooking a finger toward him that amplifies the look of his lust with a smile.
“Eager, huh, baby?” he asks, making me bite my lip and nod.
The truth is, I hurt I want him so bad.
He climbs in the bed after me, unbuttoning his shirt so slowly I could cry. He knows what he’s doing, though, the smirk lifting the corner of his mouth and the dancing light in his eyes all the evidence I need.
Finally undone, his shirt lands on the floor somewhere behind him after a quick toss, and he travels the rest of the distance up the bed to me. My back pulses against the mattress, practically begging me to arch up in climax.
“Jude,” I prompt, and he leans forward into the bed, drops down on his stomach, and shoves my thighs apart. My breathing picks up in cadence, and my knees shake with anticipation and need.
Up my thighs, Jude skates the palms of his hands lightly across my feverish skin until he reaches the hem of my panties.
Gently, crooking his fingers beneath the red lace material, he curls the pads of his pointers around the fabric and slowly, ever so slowly, runs them up my bikini line to the curve of my hips.
Suddenly, he grips the waistband violently and pulls, ripping the fabric right off my body altogether.
Glory be.
Not done, he takes the hem of my dress and tosses it up my body, ordering, “Take it off. I want to see your tits while I eat you.”
I nod quickly, writhing anxiously on the bedding until I can get the red satin number up and over my head, and toss it to the side.
The only element of my outfit still in place are the calf-laced red stilettos I got last year for my birthday, and as far as I can tell, he doesn’t intend to get rid of them.
“Hook your legs over my shoulders,” he orders instead, lifting the weight of my legs to help me without waiting for me to comply.
Cool air hums against my bare clit, reminding me just how exposed I am. For some reason, though, I’m not nervous. All I can focus on are the lean, powerful muscles in Jude’s shoulders as he reaches down, grabs the cheeks of my ass, and pulls me toward him, sealing his lips over the whole of my sex at once.
My head shoots back like a rock out of a slingshot at first contact, and my cry rends the air.
“Oh my God.”
“No, baby,” Jude teases as he pulls back to lick his lips. “Just Jude.”
Something inside the ego-driven comment strikes a chord in my own pride, and before I know it, I’m using the strength of my thighs to roll him over, spin around, and sit on his face. Our last romp left me with memories I can’t forget, but this time…this time, I’m going to make sure I leave the same with him.
He doesn’t complain. In fact, he groans in excitement when I hastily undo the buckle of his belt, unfasten the button of his pants, and release the zipper, shoving the fancy wool material down toward his thighs, right along with his boxer briefs.
His dick bounces as it’s freed, and everything inside me turns animalistic. I have to taste it, suck it, make it mine.
