Max
I should turn around and walk back into the bar. I’d taken this exit to make sure I didn’t run into Jude and his family reunion, but here he is. And if it’s possible, he looks even hotter than he did earlier.
His lips are closed around that cigarette, and he’s leaning back against the brick building like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“Well?” he finally asks when I’ve stayed quiet too long.
“What?” I can’t even remember what it was he asked me.
He smirks. “I asked if you decided to take me up on the offer. You know, the one from earlier.” He pushes off the building, taking the cigarette out of his mouth as he steps closer to me. “In case you forgot, I offered to slide your dick into my mouth and suck you off.”
My body erupts in heat. It’s as though the moment when I jerked off in my office never even happened, I’m already so fucking hard again.
I think I might hate this guy.
Jude’s gaze drops to my crotch, and his smirk widens. “The idea gets to you?”
“It would get to anyone when you talk so bluntly,” I reply, but my voice isn’t nearly as smooth as I want it to be.
“I disagree.” Jude shrugs one shoulder, then drops his cigarette on the ground and crushes it with the weight of his black boot. “Or, if you’re feeling generous, you could give me a counteroffer.”
My mouth dries out, and I lick my lips just to get some moisture. I haven’t even seen him naked, and I already know I want to do it. I would fucking love to hit my knees and take Jude in my mouth, feel his hands run through my hair and tighten as he thrust his hips against me.
Jude takes another step closer to me, and I don’t stop him as he drops his hand between us to run it over the front of my jeans. “Wow, you really want it, huh?”
The question makes my cheeks warm and only turns me on further. I’m afraid I might come in my pants like a fucking teenager.
Jude searches my face, the smirk gone as he reads my eyes. “You get off on being controlled?” When I don’t respond, he grabs my cock through my jeans and grips tightly. “I asked you a question.”
“Yes.” The word is nothing but a whisper. My body is so hot, I could swear Jude must be able to feel it.
He leans close, putting his lips near my ear. “Kiss me.”
I clamp a hand around the back of his neck and bring his face to mine. His lips part, and then I’m kissing him, sliding my tongue alongside his like it was always meant to be there. He tastes like cigarettes and coke, and I feel like I could kiss him until the world ended.
Jude moans and tightens his hold on me. Which, thank fuck for that because I really do feel on the edge of exploding. And that would be mortifying.
When Jude breaks the kiss, we’re panting. I watch his chest rise and fall in the glow from the lone streetlight at the end of the alley. We’re mostly cloaked in shadow, but I can see a sliver of his face, and even that is enough to turn me on further.
“Unzip your pants,” Jude orders, backing up just enough to give me the space to do it. When I’m done, he says, “Now do the same to me.”
I don’t let myself think. I just reach for him, popping the button on those tight jeans and unzipping them to find he’s not wearing anything underneath.
Jude shoves me so my back is against the brick wall, and then he takes us both in his hand, long fingers working us in tandem.
I bite my lip to keep from crying out and lay my head back against the building. How is it possible to feel this good? To feel a need so strong that it’s almost like a compulsion?
Jude shoves his free hand between the wall and my back, then slides it down until it’s in my boxers. Without hesitating, he grabs a handful of my ass, squeezing hard.
My hips buck, and that same tingle starts in the base of my spine. Before I can say anything, I’m coming, spraying all over Jude’s hand. He doesn’t slow at all, pumping us together as he chases his own orgasm.
It hurts like a bitch, makes me see stars. But I welcome it. Crave it. I love that Jude’s not taking it easy on me. That he’s using me the same way I used him.
He comes quietly, with a shudder that shakes his whole body. And when he starts to slump forward, he slams his free hand against the wall beside my head and leans there for a minute, his chest heaving.
“Fuck,” Jude mumbles. “You’re bad for me.”
I want to say the same, but that familiar shame is slithering through me. Patrick used to be the one who’d boss me around when we were in the bedroom. No one could turn me on like he did. And some days, when he was exhausted or scared, I took over. I wonder if that’s something Jude would be interested in.
