The realisation startled me, but only because I should’ve seen it coming. I’d fucked Jude seven times, maybe eight if he came back from wherever he’d gone, and every drive of my cock inside him had cemented something in my soul that I didn’t quite understand. I never wanted to stop fucking him, but it was more than that. With other men, I’d always felt as though I was somehow wrong, that I wasn’t living my own truth.
With Jude, I simply felt like me.
“Stop thinking so much.” Jude straddled my lap again. “I don’t want you having an existential crisis while I’m riding you.”
He spoke with a filthy grin that broke through my introspection. Over his shoulder, I belatedly noticed his sweatpants abandoned on the floor. He was naked, and preparing to sink down on my throbbing dick. My pulse jumped, and a haze even thicker than the ones that had come before descended over me.
I gripped his hips. Jude laughed and pried my hands free. “Not this time, fucker. I’m driving.”
“That right?” I let him raise my hands up and place them behind my head. “Who says I have to let you?”
Jude pressed his forehead to mine long enough to take me prisoner with his intoxicating stare. “You want to let me. You just don’t know it yet.”
What does that even mean?I had no clue, but I’d run out of time for coherent thought. Jude grasped my chin, forcing me to look at him, as he eased down on my sheathed and lubed cock. The sensation of sliding inside him at a pace beyond my control was mind-blowing. I watched my dick disappear, inch by inch, and a protracted shiver rocked through me, culminating in a moan that rose in pitch the deeper Jude took me.
My body was a tense web of nerves and synapses, stretched to breaking point when we’d barely got started. I lost myself in Jude’s strained muscles and furrowed brow. His shaking thighs, and heaving chest. He took all of me, then slumped against me, trembling. My arms cried out to wrap around him, to comfort him, but a nagging voice warned me off. He’d placed my hands where they were for a reason. Perhaps he didn’t want me to touch him.
Jude began to move, slowly at first, grinding down in torturous, tentative circles, his face hidden in the crook of my neck. His breath was heated puffs of air against my tingling skin, and his clean scent filled my every sense. My lips ached to kiss his neck, to lick, and bite, but I didn’t move. Instead, I sat there as he took me apart, circle by slow fucking circle.
I groaned through gritted teeth. “Faster.”
Jude raised his head, his smirk gone. He didn’t answer with words, just leaned back and slowed his pace. His cock jutted out between us. My mouth watered, but I was too old and inflexible to do anything about it, and I wished I’d met him fifteen years ago, when I’d been more limber, even if twenty-year old me wouldn’t have had a clue what to do with a dick in his mouth.
I’d wanted it, though, as much as I’d wanted Mina.
Jude’s palm struck my cheek, not hard enough to hurt, but with enough force to drag me from my thoughts. Again. And I liked it. My cheek stung, and the sensation spread through me like wildfire.
Unable to resist any longer, I brought my arms down and around Jude, pinning him in place. “Hit me again.”
“No.”
“Yes. Do it. I like it.”
Jude slapped me again, harder this time, and the air between us shifted. Desire coursed through me, and I needed more. So much more.
I dug my heels into the carpet and thrust up, meeting Jude in the middle, as he leaned further back, arching his body.
My hands were vice-like around his waist. I’d read dirty literature online that spoke of finger-shaped bruises. I’d scoffed, but the way I was gripping Jude right now? Fuck. I had to be hurting him.
But as Jude dug his nails into my own flesh, it didn’t seem to matter. Pain merged with pleasure to create a swirling vortex of white-hot ecstasy, and my movements became frantic. Jude cried out, the telltale flush spreading across his damp skin. Fixated on his cock, I fucked him harder, until he finally started to come.
Watching Jude fall to pieces pushed me over the edge. Noise filled my ears, and I shot violently, slamming up into him. Only his superhuman balance kept him from tumbling to the floor.
I came back to myself faster than him. He was still hanging off me, braced with one hand on the carpet. I hauled him up and gave into the desperate desire to crush him against me. Arms tight around him, it was as though his shivers were mine, as thoughhewas mine, and for the brief moment I held him, the stars aligned.
Too soon, though, Jude pulled away. He blew out a long breath, and stood, leaving me with a soft dick, a sticky belly, and a condom to deal with. I excused myself to the bathroom. When I came back, he was in the kitchen, dressed and washing dishes. Disappointment seared me, but why? What had I expected? Cuddles on the couch when this was a pure and simple hook up?
Simple.
Yeah, right.
I’d come to Jude’s house knowing that fucking him would only add to the chaos in my brain, but I’d done it anyway, because I’d needed to. What happened next had been, at the time, irrelevant. Or, at least, the last thing on my mind. Now I was hovering in his kitchen doorway wearing nothing but Armani slacks, I kind of wished I’d given it more thought.
But then, I was fresh out of space when it came to thinking about Jude.
Jude cleared his throat. “Are you trying to figure out if you can touch me when we’re not fucking?”
He wasn’t looking at me, but somehow I could still picture his face, dark brow raised, lips twisted in a nearly smirk if it hadn’t been so earnest. “What makes you think that?”
