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Chapter 38: Baron
It was raining when we awoke the following day. I woke to Jude sliding naked off the mattress and the sound of raindrops drumming on the tin roof. I reached for Jude as she escaped, scampering away from my grab.
“Hold up, Casanova, I gotta pee,” she said.
She returned in a few minutes and slid back into bed, running her hands along my chest and humming in her throat. “Good morning,” she breathed, placing a line of soft kisses along my sternum and abs.
“Morning…” I reached between her legs, eliciting a low moan. “Are you sore at all?” We had fucked so many times I’d lost count last night.
“Maybe a little, but it doesn’t matter.”
“Mm.” I lifted and repositioned her, placing her pussy over my face. As my tongue speared up into her, she placed her hands on my belly and leaned forward, sliding them down until she reached my cock. I felt the slightest brush of her hand against my base and groaned deep in my throat, redoubling my efforts.Don’t stop, God, don’t stop...
She didn’t stop. Instead, she rested her breasts on my lower belly and took me into the wet heat of her mouth, swirling her tongue around my head and drawing me in as deeply as she could. We sixty-nined lazily until twin orgasms rolled through us both, then lay curled together until the sweat dried on our bodies and our racing hearts subsided.
My arm around her, I tugged on her shoulder to get her attention. “What did you call me earlier?” I’d still been half-asleep, and wasn’t certain I’d heard her right.
“When I was going to the bathroom? Casanova.” She looked up with a grin.
“How’d you know?”
“Huh?”
“How’d you know I was Casanova?”
“It’s just a name—oh, shit.”Oh, shit, indeed.Realization slapped me at the same time it did her. She hadn’t known. She’d only been tossing out a nickname. “You’re Casanova.”
I smiled weakly. “Maybe?”
She looked at me narrow-eyed. “All this time… I was messaging you… and—”
“And Gale and Ezra, too.”
“Oh, my God.” Jude covered her face with one palm. “I cannot believe this. Do they know?”
I shook my head. “Not sure I want them to know, honestly.”
“Why?” She rolled over and leaned on her elbows. I pulled the sheet around her, because the sight of her breasts in that position was far too distracting for any kind of serious conversation.
“Why don’t I want them to know? Or why am I Casanova?”
“Either. Both.”
“Casanova is a research tool for my thesis. Dating issues of college students and how they cope. I’m undecided on telling them because I don’t want them to feel manipulated in any way. Yes, I knew how they felt. Yes, I knew how you felt. I didn’t need the app for that, though.”
She nodded. “I get that. I think they’ll be fine, though. We need to tell them.”
“I’ll think about it.”
A short while later, in the kitchen, I leaned against the counter and watched as she made a simple breakfast of cheesy grits and bacon that she’d stored in the freezer and thawed last night. Her movements, efficient and graceful even as she did the most mundane of things, were mesmerizing. My mind, though, was on the Casanova app.
“So, how am I even going to tell them about this Casanova thing?” I asked as she cooked.
“I mean… you could justtell them,” she said.
“That would be an immensely awkward conversation. ‘So, you know when you were having all these thoughts about this girl…’”
Jude snickered and flipped the bacon. “Maybe you could bring something that one of them said in a message into conversation. It might make them think about Casanova and put it all together.”
