Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Then he’s suddenly moving, rolling onto his back and taking me with him, still buried inside me as I come to rest on his hips. I cry out at the deeper invasion, splaying my palms on his stomach as I breathe through the mild stab of pain, and Jude pants, his hands falling to my thighs. I gather myself, filling my lungs.
“Okay?” he gasps, waiting. I can only nod, rolling my hips a little.
His fingers dig into my flesh, a rough groan rumbling deep in his throat, and once I know I’ve got a handle on things, I start to move, rocking back and forth, dragging my heavy head and heavier eyes up.
He holds up his hands to me, fingers splayed. “Hold on to me,” he says softly, prompting me to place my palms against his and watch as he slowly folds his fingers over mine, our hands entwined tightly. My anchor as I ride him. His gaze constantly moves from my thighs to my bouncing boobs to my eyes, his face straight, his jaw tense. He starts to flex his hips, and I whimper, blood rushing to my head. Jude nods, seeing I’m close, holding my hands tighter as I ride him harder. “Fuck, Amelia,” he barks, using my hands to pull me down, kissing me with force before pushing me back up. My hair falls all over my face, and I toss it back, focused on the building pleasure and grabbing it until I’m smashing down onto his hips and he’s pounding up. “Fuck!” I’m pulled back down, flipped onto my back, and he’s inside me again, his arms cradling my head, my nails scratching at his back. He hisses, kissing me hard and chastely, biting my lip, moving his mouth to my ear, breathing into it. “I want to come with you,” he whispers, sending tingles from my ear to my pussy. “I want your pussy sucking every last drop of my cum out of me.”
His words serve as a catalyst, and the creeping pleasure starts to steam forward.
“I feel it coming,” he growls, thrusting on, his hips meeting mine every time I lift them into him, his mouth kissing across my face to my other ear. “Do you feel out of control, baby?”
Black dots start to hamper my vision, my head feeling like it’s going to burst with my body. “Jude,” I say, begging.
He licks the shell of my ear. My hands grapple at his back. “It’s coming,” he whispers.
“Jude.”
“Coming.”
“Jude!”
He stills and I yell, slipping my hands into the hair on his nape as he lifts his head and gazes down at me. The look that passes between us is charged. Understanding. This is . . . something.
“Coming,” he breathes, gritting his teeth as he retreats and rolls, recapturing my climax and nudging me over the edge, in total control of my pleasure.
The intensity paralyses me, and Jude barks his release, starting to shake, to the point he’s forced to drop his head into my neck. The heat of his breath on my skin, his hot body engulfing me, it’s stifling.
And yet natural.
“Jesus,” he gasps, shuddering.
Our bodies roll, the music melding with our loud, chaotic breathing, the beats sinking into my recovering body.
What just happened?
I stare at the ceiling, overcome, exhausted, hot, sweaty.
And fucking terrified.
“Okay?” he eventually whispers, remaining where he is. I can’t help but think he doesn’t want to see my face or he doesn’t want me to see his.
“Are you?” I throw it back at him.
“I think I’m in more trouble now than I was an hour ago.”
“Me too,” I reply quietly, an unexpected lump forming in my throat. What the fuck? I fight it with all I have, trying to make sense of this, as my body recovers from my orgasm and my heart tries to find its normal rhythm. I question if it ever will again. Marked. Oh God, what’s happening? I am not going to cry after sex. How pathetic. And proof if ever anyone needs it that people do not think clearly during the throes of passion.
I blink back the building tears, praying Jude stays exactly where he is until I have this strange bout of emotion under control. But then he moves. Fuck.
As he slips out of me, I wince, the soreness instant. He rests on his forearms and takes some hair from my face, pushing it over my ear. “You look as fucked as I feel.”
I have no idea how I should take that. Physically fucked, or has he noticed the sheen in my eyes? “And you look beautifully fucked.” I scrunch my nose, as I admire Jude Harrison postclimax. It’s a sight to behold.
He smiles, kissing the corner of my mouth before getting up and walking away.
“Lord have mercy,” I whisper, propping myself up on my elbows to get the best view of his back. His arse.