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Chase only makes it a few more pulses before he comes too, a plaintive moan ripping from his lips that I’m shocked even came from him. And when I feel his cum inside me, an aftershock of pleasure shakes my body.
I’m completely slack from my head to my feet. I couldn’t move a muscle if I had to. I’ve been spent by Chase.
“Dear God, Jude. I didn’t see that coming,” he says as he rolls off me.
We both lay on our backs, trying to catch our breath, staring up at the ceiling. I can feel him dripping out my entrance. So strange. But good. Really good.
“Wow.”
I look over at Chase over the ruffled blankets. He’s smiling stupidly, eyes shut. I turn over and curl onto his chest. He accepts me into his embrace easily.
“This fake marriage might not be all bad,” Chase says.
“Please, you’re lucky to be marrying me,” I say.
Chase kisses the top of my head. “Trust me, I… I know.”
Later, as I fall asleep with Chase beside me, I send up a prayer to whatever god will hear me that we weren’t all that drunk on champagne after all.
Chapter 8
Chase
Iwakeupwithmy nose buried in Jude’s spray of red curls. Her smell in the early morning is divine. A tinge of sweat mixed with that delicious vanilla.
Her warm bottom is nestled right up against my pelvis and I can already feel my morning wood starting to appear.
Shit.
I was not myself last night. That much is clear. I am not the type to act on irrational feelings without measuring the costs and the benefits. There is no good excuse, other than the intoxication of a first kiss combined with the intoxication of unlimited champagne, which is no excuse at all. I should have known better. Should have had my head more squarely on my shoulders.
But once I had my first taste of Jude, I was done for.
How is it that I’ve known her for nearly thirty years and just now have woken up to her? It’s like I’ve seen her fully for the first time.
And the timing could not be worse.
Yes, we are getting married in order to fulfill obligations both of us have. It should seem like a good thing that we’re actually manifesting some sort of attraction. But attraction and connection are different. It’s a dangerous game for us to get tangled up between the bedsheets and I’m afraid if I don’t set the boundary then I won’t be able to stop falling to my knees for her.
Before it’s too late, before my resistance is futile, I roll out of her bed and gather my clothes as quietly as I can. Jude does not stir, thankfully. I give her one last glance and feel a pang in my chest. Jude looks so at peace. So comfortable and safe, believing I’m still in bed next to her. Her lips are curled into a half-smile.
Go back to her.
I could. I could go back and we could spend the morning in bed together. We could lazily cuddle and talk, have morning sex, and talk about the future.
Dammit. The future.
I was so far gone I legitimately went in without protection. I never do that. It was reckless. Impulsive.
That… that wasn’t me.
I sneak out of the room and throw on my clothes. The fucking pinstripe seersucker pants feel even worse doing the walk of shame. It’s what I deserve, I suppose.
I don’t give myself another opportunity to look back. Down the stairs, out the front door, into the car, and back home where I’ll certainly have to attend to Gram’s flagellation for walking out early from my own engagement party.
As I drive away, my heart sneaks up into my throat.
I left my mark inside Jude. Too soon. And in a way that we did not agree upon. Contractually, her obligation is to conceive and carry my child through scientific measures that keep us as far apart as possible.
