“They just always pull apart when they think someone is watching.”
Jude leans down, nuzzling my neck again. “Can we just find Marti and get out of here so we can do things to each other with no one watching?”
“Fine.” I laugh.
Marti, it turns out, is drinking champagne out of the Stanley Cup and having some kind of flirty, borderline dirty conversation with Eddie Rollins. She’s fine with us cutting out early and Eddie assures me he’ll “take care of her.” Ugh. Well, I know Marti is a big girl and knows exactly what she’s getting into.
The drive home is quick, and as soon as we get in the house, I’m all over Jude. I can’t help myself. Everything about him tonight is a turn-on. From the way he played on the ice, to the way he looked in the three-piece suit, introducing me as his girlfriend, all of it. By the time I get him into my bedroom, his pants are at his ankles and his suit jacket and vest are somewhere on the stairs, as is my dress. He picks me up, which I don’t expect, so I squeal, and he laughs as he drops me on the bed and climbs on top of me. His kiss is one of his demanding ones and it’s amazing. Jude, I have decided after all these weeks, has three types of kisses. The demanding one, which isforceful and dominant, the kind I don’t even bother to try to keep up with—I just let him claim my mouth. The gentle one, which is sweet and soft with this simmering passion that makes me melt. And the needy one, which I’ve only experienced that time he showed up unexpectedly with the teapot. That one is forceful, but not in a dominant way, in a searching way. He’s searching for acceptance with his tongue, teeth and mouth, acceptance and love. I match that one with every graze of his lips and push of his tongue, because I need him as much as he needs me. God help me, because I only have broken pieces of a heart left, but when he kisses me like that, I want to give them all to him.
He grinds into me one more slow, seductive time before breaking the kiss and pulling away. His right knee drags up the inside of my thigh, followed by his left as he pulls himself up to sit on his heels between my legs.
His eyes are roaming my body as he tugs at the Windsor knot in his tie. “How are you so fucking beautiful?” he exclaims in an exhale.
I reach up to still his hand and grab that tie to pull him back down on top of me, but I’m too late. The tie slips out of its knot and off his neck when I pull on it. He grabs it from me and I flop back on the bed, my hair flying up around me before fanning out across the pillow. I lift my arms again to reach for him, and he grabs both my wrists and I feel the silky tie slide around them.
His body covers mine as he pushes my arms over my head. His lips find the spot where my jaw curves up to my ear. He bites down, and I shiver with pleasure and move to wrap my arms around his neck, only I can’t. He’s wrapped my wrists in the tie and tied them to the metal bed frame. He pulls back to look me in the eye and he smiles. “Can I?”
“Yeah,” I say easily, which is weird because I’ve never wanted to be tied up before. Never even really entertained the thought, but with Jude, it turns me on, and I’m excited to see where this goes.
“Good, because I am going to take my time tonight,” he says as his blue eyes roam again down my legs and back up, to my stomach and over my ribs, to my breasts. He’s undoing his shirt slowly, button by button, and it’s so damn sexy. “I want to taste you and tease you without your hands on me so I don’t get distracted.”
His eyes are sliding up my neck now, and when they land on my face our eyes lock. “I want you to fuck me.”
“Holy shit,” he almost gasps. “Don’t say that.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll fuck you.”
I bite my lip to hold back my smile and then whisper, “Good. Fuck me, Jude. Please.”
His mouth comes crashing down on mine. His hands tug at my underwear and easily shovethem all the way down my legs. I break the kiss to move my lips to his neck, because I’ve learned it’s a weakness for him.
“I want to feel your pussy quiver on my tongue,” he growls against my shoulder.
“I want to feel your dick quiver inside me,” I counter, and I spread my legs a little farther so his hips fall into the space I make.
“Zoey, when you talk dirty, it’s the hottest thing in the damn universe,” he confesses and grinds again, his hips pushing up, his cock rubbing against my inner thigh.
It’s not enough. I don’t know what the hell is happening, but I’m suddenly and completely overwhelmed with the urgeto make him fuck me. Everything else he’s promising, his tongue, his fingers, his mouth, are all amazing, but I can think of nothing but his dick inside me. I want it. I want it now. I want it so badly my skin is feverish, and I feel like I have to struggle for a breath.
“Please fuck me, Jude,” I beg. I’m actually full-on, without a flicker of regret, begging him to fuck me. “Hard. Fast. Rough.”
He kisses me hard again. Our tongues push against each other as his hips roll and mine twist, and I feel his tip bump my entrance. He feels it too, because he grunts a little and pulls his hips back, like a good boy. He may be coming to his senses, but I am losing mine. I yank against the restraints and swear again.
“Jude…” I tug again. The metal of the bed frame creaks. “Do it again.”
“I want to…” His words are wrapped in groan.
“Do it. Touch me there with just your cock. Please.” I twist and push my hips up as he swings low, and it happens, his dick so warm, so hard yet soft. It bumps and then he pushes. He pushes into me—ever so slightly—but his tip slides into me. And then it’s gone.
“You want me?” How is that even a question? Why is he in such awe?
“God, yes. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I’ve always wanted you,” I confess hoarsely, and I wrap my legs around his waist, hooking my ankles behind his lower back.
He grinds his hips, pushing his perfect cock into my perfect space—once again just the tip. He’s breathing hard already; his face is twisted like he’s struggling internally both physically and mentally. I bite my lip and sigh and turn and kiss his shoulder because it’s the closest thing to my mouth, and then I nip the skin there. “Please.”
“Zoey, God…” He kisses my neck and whispers against my ear as his hips push up. “Tell me to stop.”
