Page 52 of A Summer Thing

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Declan

“Fuck, Declan. We need to eat, baby,” Jude says the next day.

I hum. “Yes, fucking and then eating.” I kiss my way down his chest, my lips pressed to the gray shadows and whirls inked into his skin. “Sounds like a solid plan to me.”

He chuckles, and his laughter rumbles through his chest and into mine, penetrating every layer until it reaches my heart and squeezes at it beautifully.

“We need to shower,” he implores. “As hot as this is,” he runs his hands over my sweat-slicked, sticky body, “I don’t think it’d be appropriate to take you out to dinner like this.”

I pull my head back, my gaze still stuck on his. “Oh, you’re taking me to dinner now?” Amusement tugs my lips into a wide smile.

He slides a hand over my ribs, down my back, and over my ass, gripping it tight as he pulls me into him, planting a kiss on my temple. The contrast of sweet and sexual is immediately addicting. “I’m taking you to dinner,” he confirms. “But first, we need to shower.”

“Fine,” I whine, stretching out beside him, my overused muscles pulling in my body. They ache in the most delicious way imaginable, and I hum with pleasure.

Pouty lips fall against my neck in a kiss.

“You can’t go making sounds like that, Little D.

” He punctuates his sentence with another kiss.

“You make me want to take you again.” And another kiss.

“I’m already getting fucking hard.” And another.

“Feel what you do to me.” Jude grasps my hand and wraps it around his dick.

“Fuck, baby.” He leaves warm, open-mouthed kisses down the center of my chest. He rolls on top of me, fingers dipping through my center, opening me so he can guide himself into me.

“Goddamn. You feel so fucking good. I can’t get enough of you.

” He shoves himself all the way inside, his hips meeting mine, and I throw my head back with a strained gasp. I can’t get enough of him, either.

I’m sore, everywhere, but the sharp nips of pain weave through my desire, with the rushing pleasure sweeping over my senses as he moves and moves inside me, the tip of him hitting my most sensitive spot.

“Jude, yes,” I moan, drawing out the words as they stretch into my breath.

I climb, and I climb, and I climb, until I’m not sure I can climb anymore. Until the tightness inside me is all too consuming, overwhelming, slipping out of my grasp, and I’m reaching for it, but then I’m pushed over the edge.

Tripping, and falling, into my orgasm.

I come so violently that nothing is within my control.

Not the strangled sounds that come out of my mouth.

Not my hands as my nails rake over Jude’s back and dip into his skin, drawing blood.

Not my body as it arches beneath him and begs, impossibly, for more.

Not my thoughts as they split and scatter, fleeing clear from my mind.

The only thing I have a grasp on is the way my body coils and spasms, again and again, for longer than seems possible, for longer than I think I can handle.

Tears spill from the corners of my eyes, and breaths push from the confines of my chest. Heartbeats ramp through my body in a singular, steady beat.

Jude pumps his hips faster, fucking me through it, groaning into my neck and sucking my skin into his mouth, bruising it, before he’s coming, too.

His guttural groan has me clenching around him harder.

He shouts a garbled version of my name, his face buried in my skin, as he comes as deep inside me as he can possibly get. His cock twitches, the warmth of his cum filling me where I’m already full.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moans, small thrusts penetrating as he continues to expel himself inside me.

I feel his cum spill out of me when I’m too full, the heat of him leaking onto my ass and onto the bed beneath me, and I bury my head farther back into my pillow. I moan with every twitch and pulse of his cock, the feeling too good, too unreal, stretching the aftershocks of my orgasm out with his.

His heavy breaths rain over my chest, followed by his forehead knocking down into it, too. “You are fucking unreal, baby,” I think he says, through the fog of orgasmic bliss blurring my vision and clouding my thoughts.

When I fall back to reality, my entire body is humming, buzzing through to the tips of every limb.

“Holy… fucking… shit… Jude.” Each word is an exhale, each inhale grounding me further.

But what, in the ever-loving-fuck, was that?

I have never experienced anything like it.

Like I was pulled out of my body, completely removed from my mind, every single one of my organs ceasing to exist for that stuttering breadth of time, my entire existence pinpointed on one, singular feeling—my orgasm as it flushed through every cell of my body.

I’m not sure I’ll ever recover.

And my heart echoes words of the same.

______

“Shh,” I say with a smile, keeping Jude behind me with a hand as I crack my door open with the other. I glance up and down the hallway— all clear —and pull him behind me with quick steps until we reach the shower room.

The stalls are tiny, barely enough for one body to fit, but he insists on sharing one, our naked bodies pressed together as we move around for soap and shampoo, and one thing, of course, leads to another, and he’s fucking me against the tiled wall.

He lifts me, and my back meets the cold, hard ceramic.

“Fuck,” he groans into my neck, again and again, pounding into me relentlessly.

My flesh is punctured by the ten points of his fingers digging into my skin, and it makes me moan out loud even though we should at least be trying to keep quiet, the feel of him gripping onto me as he moves inside me the most agonizing, torturous kind of pleasure.

It zips all the way down my spine, all the way down to my toes.

Agonizing, because I know nothing else will ever feel this good—Jude, inside me, fucking me like our lives depend on it—our bodies, minds, hearts, and souls, connected as one.

Jude’s grunts quicken in pace, and his movements do, too. He pumps into me faster, fingers tight on my ass cheeks, and I slide a hand between us, rubbing at my clit, watching his thick, veiny length drag in and out of me.

With a dip of his head down, he sucks my nipple into his mouth, his tongue lathing against my piercing.

He takes the thin bar between his teeth and pulls it gently, and my back arches as I push myself more fully into his mouth.

He soothes the sting with an open-mouthed kiss and a long sweep of his tongue.

“Fuck, Jude. I can’t— I can’t. You feel so good.

” I pull his hair into my hands in a tight grasp, forcing his head back to look at me from where he has me propped up against the tile wall.

Gray eyes crash into mine. “God, how do you feel this good?” Pleasure weeds through me, curling through my limbs, before grasping tight and pulling every muscle inside my body taut.

I feel wild, insatiable, out of my mind with how good Jude feels.

He pumps into me faster, angling his hips, and grinding into me harder. My clit rubs against his pelvic bone with every thrust.

“Fuck, Declan, you’re killing me. You feel so fucking good, too. I can’t fucking stop.”

The muscles in his abs contract, shadowed tattoos rolling with the movement.

His neck, his chest, his biceps, all tense and tight, flexed with the weight of me in his hands.

The sight alone is enough to throw me hurtling off the edge.

I throw my head back as I come, tightening around him, gripping him in euphoric clenches that flourish through my entire body.

“I’m gonna pull out, baby,” I distantly hear him say.

“What? Why?” I whine, and dig my heels into his ass to keep him right where he is.

His laugh vibrates against me. “Because we need to get some sustenance in our bodies, Little D, and if I fill you up, I’m going to have to watch it spill out of you, and then I’m only going to want to do it again.” His words smooth over my skin like a caress.

“Shit,” I gasp, slipping my fingers into his hair and pulling his strands tight. He grunts, and it sets my limbs on fire. He feels so fucking good, I feel like I’ll break, combust, shatter apart around him. It can’t be physically possible to be filled with this much pleasure and not break.

Maybe that’s why I feel like I burst at the seams as I come apart again, every feeling, every emotion, every sensation, rushing through my body at once, spilling from my limbs and wringing me dry.

Until I’m completely outside of myself, peeking in on this private moment between us. Where Jude pulls himself out of me, pumping his cock with his fist until he’s coming.

Hot spurts of cum land against my pussy where he spreads me open, the warmth of his orgasm raining down my clit, and—

Holy shit. Holy shit. I like it so much more than I already anticipated I would.

His eyes track the movement of his cum slipping down my skin, and his teeth sink into his bottom lip in a viscous grip. “Alright. Well. That was a fucking mistake.”

Like hell it was, my thoughts admonish, loving the way his release looks painted on my body.

But then his cock twitches, swelling just a bit thicker, and I choke out a laugh. “Jude.” Curling my fingers around his muscled bicep, I keep him at a close distance, but just far enough away that he can see himself as well as I can. “How?” I say. “How is that even possible?”

He groans as he wipes his hand down his face. “I don’t fucking know, Dec. But God, I just want to be inside you again. I’m already getting hard just looking at you, seeing you covered in my cum. Fuck.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” I laugh, but he shuts me right the hell up.

His mouth slams against mine, and his tongue invades, lapping against my own. My entire body hums, pulsing with renewed desire.

We’re never going to make it out of here.

______

Hours later, we’re on the floor of my dorm room, my knees digging into the bubbled texture of my rug uncomfortably, but the drag of Jude inside me, his hands pulling me into him, erases the pain.

I move my hands over his muscled body, pressing my fingers into the raging sky etched across his chest, and his gaze pulls me deeper, pulls me closer, pulls every nerve ending to the center of my body and winds them so tight I want to scream.

When I come, I do.

His hand reaches up and covers my mouth, and I bite into his fingers as I convulse around him.

I ride the wave, riding him, enticing him closer to the edge, squeezing around him to the point of pain.

He grunts and groans as he pushes up into me, coming with his fingers biting into my hips, his teeth marking the skin on my wrist. His shaft jerks inside me as he comes, warm spurts of cum coating my insides, and the quick, hard press of his thumb against my clit throws me over the edge for a second time.

And I don’t stop coming. I keep clenching around him, milking us both until we’re completely dry.

It’s a long while later when we’re both able to come up for air. Still lying on the floor. Still naked. Still sticky with our releases, but bone-deep, soul-deep sated.

“Holy fuck, Little D. I don’t think I can come again. If I do, I’m bound to shoot nothing but blanks, and that sounds fucking painful.”

I crack up, and as my body tenses with the force of my laughter, I feel every muscle, from head to toe, pulling. “Okay, okay,” I relent. “Maybe we should take a break. We’ve certainly earned it.”

The snort of laughter builds in his chest before bursting out of his mouth.

And there is no better feeling in the world, I decide, than earning Jude’s unbridled laughter.

The way it has to be worked for—his trust earned, his friendship gained, and his comfortability secured through time.

He laughs the loudest with the people he cares most for.

I’ve seen it firsthand with his family and his friends.

Gratitude blooms inside me with the knowledge, not taking for granted for a moment that I fall in there, too, somewhere perfectly in between.

A firm finger traces the lines of my hip, trailing from my ribcage to my thigh. “Elijah mentioned you were thinking about getting some ink done here.”

“You keeping tabs on me?” I smile.

“Maybe.” His smirk slips into a shy smile of his own right before my eyes. “I’ve never pictured you with tattoos,” he says, “but now, I can’t imagine you not getting it.”

“Me neither.” My smile stretches wider.

He shifts up onto his elbow, his head held in the palm of his hand. “Elijah showed me the artwork, and it’s beautiful. Is there any significance behind the piece, or is it just something you wanted to get inked?”

“It started out as just something I liked, but it ended up being a bit of both.” I lift up, too, mirroring his position on my textured rug. It’s not comfortable, exactly, but the moment between us is.

His fingers skim up and down my side, travelling the length of where the tattoo will go. A floral piece, in black and gray and moody colors, extending from the bottom of my ribcage to the upper side of my thigh.

He studies my skin like the artwork is already there. “Will you tell me what it means to you?”

My smile grows softer, fonder. “Yeah, of course I will. Some of the blooms represent life, while the others represent death and rebirth. The vine that runs through them is sort of like a lifeline— my lifeline—existing through it all. Representing my own past, present, and future. I’m in love with it.

The mockup Elijah made is… breathtakingly beautiful. ”

“It’s gorgeous, Little D,” he agrees. “Almost as gorgeous as you.”

Warmth spills through my limbs, pouring straight from my heart.

He continues tracing the lines on my naked body, until I return the favor and do the same, asking about nearly every single one of his tattoos.

The art covering his arms—things he simply liked.

The Gods and Goddesses painted on one leg—an intentional interpretation of humanity and its values.

The wolf and inked scenes of nature on his other leg—a picture of the peace he strives to find every day.

The violent, furious storm on his chest, angels and demons alike—a depiction of the internal wars he waged after Brenna’s passing.

The words inked on his fingers, a memory.

The words scrawled beneath his chin, a reminder.

We talk late into the night, about everything and nothing all at once, our words shifting into whispers and quiet yawns, growing fewer and farther between, before we melt into sleep, and each other, completely.