Understandable. Dom told me frequently that I wasn’t particularly likeable when I forgot to show my human side. The side that wasn’t ruled by business and getting my own way. I fought hard to separate the fucked-up elements of my twisted personality. I was a selfish git. Always had been, unless I was going to bat for someone I truly cared about, but those people were few and far between. My list had expanded since Dom had found happiness, but I could still count my friends on one hand.
Jude still wasn’t speaking. I softened my stance and let my hand slip from his arm, noting the finger marks I’d left on his skin. Oops. “Just forget it,” I said. “I’m a bit of a dick when I want something, and I’m still learning to tell myself no. I’m sorry.”
Amusement crept into Jude’s scowl. “Still learning? At your age?”
“‘Course I am. I’m thirty-five.”
“I thought you were older.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah. It said eighty-one in your Grindr handle.”
It was an odd comfort that he hadn’t judged my age by my looks. “I picked my handle name in a random bar. I was sitting next to a stack of work as big as my head, it was ten o’clock at night, and I still had eighty-one pertinent emails to work through.”
“I don’t read my emails.”
“I’m jealous.”
Jude finally cracked a smile, and I tried not to stare harder than I already was. He let his T-shirt drop to the floor again. “Whatever. I don’t care how old you are. I came here to get laid, man. Not hear your life story.”
“Does that mean you’re staying to get laid?”
He shrugged. “Why the fuck not?”
It was all the encouragement I needed. My nerves had been on fire since I’d shot him that very first message and I needed him in my bed—on it, whatever—as fast as humanly possible.
I grabbed his arm again, and tugged him further into the room. He was wearing cargo shorts, like he had been earlier, but they were a different colour, and his hair was damp. He was fresh out of the shower. My mouth watered. And somehow I already knew he wore no underwear under those shorts.
We reached the bed. Jude lifted his hooded gaze, and the hint of a challenge he’d seemed to have had from the moment we’d clapped eyes on each other, deepened. I gripped his waistband and popped the button with my thumb. The shorts fell open, revealing enough of his taut abdomen to remind me that I’d have been a fool to let him walk out of the door without closing the deal.
Closing the deal. Could you be a bigger wanker?
But in that moment, I didn’t care. Jude was here, and willing. What did it matter that my internal monologue made me sound like a prick?
It mattered. But I was too keyed up to give it much conscious thought. I slid a hand down Jude’s belly, my gaze fixed on him, and slipped it into his shorts, nudging the zip with my wrist. His cock was thick and heavy. And half hard. I grinned, resisting the urge to lick my lips like a total fiend. “What are you up for?”
Again, Jude shrugged. “Most things. Water sports aren’t my bag, but I can handle pretty much anything else. I like it rough.”
Jude had the most beautiful voice. Melodic. Gentle. The way it wrapped around such filth was fucking insane. Or maybe it wasn’t. Perhaps only the lust-filled haze fast descending on me was a sign of dwindling wits.
Whatever. He liked it rough.
So did I.
I closed my hand tighter around his cock. Jude sucked in a short gasp, and his hips jutted forward. I took it as a cue to continue and pushed his shorts down. “I don’t bottom.”
“Shocker.”
“What does that mean?”
Jude bit his lip and thrust against my grip. “You’re a control freak, I can tell. You want to dominate and you haven’t figured out how to do that without topping.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the psychoanalysis.”
“You asked.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Or any of it, really. Besides, I liked my role, and I played it well. I wound my fingers into the leather necklace that hung around Jude’s neck, twisted it enough to pinch his skin. His gaze flickered. Smirking, I released him, palmed his chest, and shoved him backwards.
