Trying my best to control my breathing, I chose not to answer him, a nonresponse he took as a challenge. “You want to know what I think?” He wedged his thigh between my legs. “Of course you do. You’re hanging on every word I say right now.”
I had no clue who this man was. Dominant and in control, he was the exact opposite of the Jude I remembered and every bit the man I craved.
“Here’s my take,” he went on, his lips pulling into a smirk I wanted to kiss off his face. “You came here because the way we left off is killing you.” Opening my mouth to spit back a response was pointless because he paid me no mind, continuing to talk. “And I know that’s true because it’s been killing me, too.” He registered the shock on my face. “It ripped me in half to push you away.”
“Then why did you?” My head spun. His body. His heat. His words.
“Later. We’ll get to that later.” It was clear there was no point in challenging him.
And for all the shit I’d gone through, for all the lies I told to my family—to myself—for all the pain I’d suffered, all I wanted was to feel something good for once.
As he licked his lips, I had a feeling Jude would make that happen.
On a deep and shaky exhale, the fight left my body.
“Good,” he said softly. He did nothing to hide how proud he was that he’d won. His smile grew wider; his eyes shone brighter. His grip around my wrist tightened as he pressed his leg further against my hard dick. “Now here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to let go of your hand and you’re going to leave it there. I touch you. That’s all. Got it?” His dominance set me on fire, but it also pissed me off something awful. The desire to challenge him almost outweighed my desire to feel his mouth on my body.
With a simple nod, he released his hand from my wrist, moving it over a few inches to my hip. “Good.” Toying with the edge of my shirt, his fingers grazed against my skin, setting it on fire, making me grow even harder. As if he knew the reaction only a touch was having on me, he leaned in, putting his lips next to my ear. His warm breath fell over my skin, hypnotizing me. “I’ve waited too long to do this.”
To do what?
I was dying to ask, but the words lodged in my throat and my breathing stopped as he trailed his nose along my jawline. When he licked a wet, hot path down my neck, my knees buckled. A soft bubble of laughter fell from his lips knowing he’d won me over. Nibbling his teeth along my collarbone, he whispered against my skin, “This is going to be fun.”
A parade of wise-ass responses lined up in my head, but none of them marched forward. My brain was suddenly focused on one thing—Jude, and the feel of his touch, the taste of his kiss, the pressure of his body. Cupping my jaw, he pulled my face to his and attacked my lips. It was almost impossible to breathe, but he was giving me his air. His tongue delved into every part of my mouth. His teeth nipped at my lips, stopping just shy of being painful. It was as if he knew my threshold and I wondered if all those years I’d dreamed of Jude, maybe he actually was in my head, hearing my thoughts, my dreams, my desires.
The torrent of emotions playing in his eyes kept me transfixed as he pulled away from the kiss. His hands roamed over my stomach. If my muscles clenched this much with a touch over my shirt, I didn’t stand a chance when he touched my skin. He gripped the edge of my shirt with both hands, pulling me far enough away from the wall to lift it over my head. Of all the fucking times in my life for it to happen, the fabric caught on my prosthetic. Immediately, I moved to fix it, hating the fucking thing more than ever.
“Stop,” Jude commanded, gripping my warm wrist once again. Without saying anything else, he released the fabric, tracing his fingertip along my upper arm as he finished removing the shirt. Embarrassment flushed my cheeks. But considering he was currently working my belt open, him seeing the brace holding my arm in place should be the least of my concerns.
I was so focused on my arm, I almost didn’t hear theclinkof my belt as it hit the floor, my shorts falling into a puddle of fabric around my feet. For all the times I ran across open deserts, maneuvered through unfamiliar streets, battled foreign soldiers on foreign soil, I’d never felt so vulnerable as I did with Jude as he stripped me naked.
I sucked in a sharp breath as he traced his fingertip along the edge of my boxers. Keeping his eyes trained on mine, he slowly worked the fabric down, off my hips, down my legs, adding them to the pile at my feet. Kneeling before me, he gently lifted one leg and then the other, unwrapping my clothes from them. After easing off my sneakers and socks, I was completely naked, pressed up against the wall in his kitchen and totally under his control.
When I looked down, saw him kneeling before me, taking in every inch of my hard and ready body, I lost the ability to breathe. To think. To speak.
As if he could read my mind, he ran his hands up my thighs, saying, “Just feel this. Feel me. Worry about all the other shit later.” His mouth followed the path of his hands, kissing up one leg and then the other. The heat of his skin radiated all around my aching dick, but he never touched it. He was working me into a frenzy, and all I could do was take it.
Waiting had never been my strong suit and as my cock throbbed waiting for him to touch it, take it into his mouth, I felt as if the world stood still. “Fucking hell, Micah,” he muttered, his eyes raking over my body. He swallowed hard, his neck moving as he struggled to breathe. With a shaking hand, he reached for my cock. As he wrapped his fingers around the base, electricity danced along every inch of my skin. My hips arched forward and my head fell back, resting against the hard cabinet behind me.
A low groan fell from my lips. “Fuck,” I cursed as he worked his warm hand over my dick. The feel of skin on skin, of his touch moving over the ridges of my body, instantly, it was all too much. My balls pulled tight, and heat raced down my spine. Within thirty seconds of him touching me, I was about to come like some fucking teenager. “Shit. Jude,” I warned.
“I know,” he soothed, stopping the motion of his hand without pulling it away. “I can tell. Your muscles are tight. Your legs are shaking. Your breathing is uneven.” Squeezing the base of my cock with just enough pressure to keep my orgasm at bay, he looked up at me. “If you think I’m going to let you come without tasting you first, you’re out of your fucking mind.”
Those words had me on the edge all over again. “I can’t. It’s too much.” I hated the vulnerability of my words. I hated the weakness of my body. I hated the thought of losing control. But when I looked down and saw Jude’s bright blue eyes staring back at me, I knew I would take whatever he gave me.
And I would love every minute of it.
As if he sensed I was done with my inner battle, he said, “Good. Now relax,” before he licked a heated path from the base of my cock all the way to the tip. Rather than rushing into things, he slowly licked every inch of my cock, stoking the fire of my need with each lick. His hand followed the wet streaks, jerking me within an inch of my control. Sensing when I’d had all I could take, Jude looked up at me as he took my entire length into his hot mouth. “Oh, fucking hell,” I cursed, lacing my fingers into his hair. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
Hollowing his cheeks, Jude devoured me. Using his hand again, he stroked my cock as he moved his mouth back and forth. His rhythm was relentless, punishing almost.
“Jude, fuck. I’m . . .” Afraid to say the word, I held my breath. I didn’t want to come. I wanted to feel his mouth on me forever. But just thinking about him swallowing every drop of my orgasm had lightning racing down my spine. He cupped my balls as they pulled tight, and I groaned my release. “Oh fuck. Jude.” His name on my lips felt as perfect as his mouth on my cock, as his tongue licking up every last drop.
My head spun and my knees buckled. “I can’t stand up anymore,” I managed through my deep breaths. Without waiting for him to respond, I slid down the cabinet, weightless and sated.
Jude moved next to me, and we both sat there, our backs up against the pantry staring at the dining room as if it held the answers to all the questions flying through our heads. Resting his elbows on his bent knees, he twisted his hands together. He was worried about something, but I didn’t have the energy to figure out what.
A wave of exhaustion rushed over me. My body, warm and pliable, buzzed with the remnants of my orgasm. I wanted nothing more than to curl up next to Jude and sleep. It seemed like such a simple desire, but after being unable to sleep for what felt like years, it was the one thing I craved—to be in his arms, safe and secure in who I was and what I wanted.
