Page 9 of Feels Like Forever (Undercover Lovers #6)

RONNIE

I ’m not ready, not in the least. My body is boiling over the edge, ready to succumb at any moment.

Which is why I fall to my back on the bed, dropping my phone to the nightstand, and try to breathe through the excruciating need to get myself off before I head to Jude.

There’s no way I can see him in the flesh without trying to hump him like a dog in heat.

Case in point yesterday. Had it not been for the crowd, I’m pretty sure both of us would have ripped our clothes off and gone at it.

Even last night, when I came home, stripped out of my clothes, took my hair out of the braids, and stepped in the steaming hot shower, my hormones did not settle down.

If anything, the rush of water sluicing down my body amped them up.

I didn’t have a choice but to take matters into my hands.

The palm of my hand against the tile gave me the purchase to keep me standing up while I trailed a path down to my center.

When the tips of my fingers lightly grazed my clit, I needed immediate relief, so I sunk them inside and pulled them in and out all of five times before I fell apart.

It helped me sleep like a baby last night.

Only now I’m ramped up and ready to go again.

“Get yourself off and pull yourself together, Veronica Navarro,” I bemoan, talking to myself. I love the way Jude says my name, Ronnie or Foxy, his voice dropping to a lower tone, sounding deeper, a subtle husk, and insanely more intimate.

I’m still in my sleep clothes, an oversized concert shirt from years ago, worn so many times it’s soft, nearly threadbare, and didn’t bother with any panties.

The thought of pulling on more fabric when all I wanted to do was close my eyes and replay every moment of the day became too much.

It’s working in my favor as I lift my hips up to pull the barely gray fabric up my body.

I do an ab curl, even though there isn’t a muscle to be seen beneath the roundness of my stomach.

I’ve got boobs, ass, and hips. What I don’t have is a flat stomach.

I jiggle when I walk, and it doesn’t matter how much I work at the bar slinging drinks, lifting kegs or trash bags into the dumpster, this is my shape.

I’ve learned to live with it and work it in a way with clothes that don’t make me feel frumpy or self-conscious.

I shove the rest of the top off, leaving me in nothing but my bare skin, and roll to my side to dig into my drawer.

My stash of toys is plentiful, it has to be since the well dried up a year ago when I parted ways with what I now know was or is a pathological liar.

I decided to shut up shop and worked on myself.

In doing so, I’ve learned what I want and don’t want, a testament to my brother and father.

Both of which sat me down at the bar, gave me a shot of whisky, then proceeded to lay down some cold, hard truths.

I kicked Jack to the curb two days later.

He tried to smarm his way back into my life until I blocked him from everything—my phone, my social media, my apartment, thanks to the manager, and definitely from the bar.

Jack got the message two weeks later. I was worried I’d need to take out a restraining order, but one day, he finally stopped showing up.

My hand wraps around the toys I use. After trying out several through the years, I have it narrowed down to my favorites.

A textured glass dildo and Shibari that plugs into the wall.

The rest of my drawer is filled to the brim with toys that require batteries or need to be recharged.

Talk about a buzz kill when you’re mid-orgasm.

I don’t bother with any lubricant, I’m already wet from listening to Jude, never mind thinking about all the heated kisses he’s given me along with feeling his thick and heavy length pressed against my lower stomach.

I’m a ball of desire. My breasts are heavy, aching with need to have Jude’s hands and mouth on them, and since he’s not here I have to settle with my own.

I grab the glass dildo, the rings around the length and thick-shaped tip are a work of art.

The toy is cold to my otherwise heated skin.

It’d be jarring to most, but it isn’t to me.

Instead, it blossoms like a fire erupting in a desolate area.

It takes ahold, cooling me down like water to a flame.

I drag the tip around my nipple. “Oh,” I moan.

My nipple tightens, impatience licks at my skin, and I quickly move it to the other one.

This morning is not about the build-up, it’s about being hot, fast, and dirty.

I bring up an elicit fantasy, one with none other than Jude.

He’s here with me, sitting between my spread legs.

The feel of the hair on his legs brushing along mine doubles my sensation.

His nostrils are flaring in a way I can tell he’s scenting the air riddled with my desire.

His molten eyes are going from my face to my breasts to my wet center, unable to choose a place to look, and his breathing is labored, exactly like mine.

Jude grips my thigh tightly enough to leave fingerprints but not enough to leave bruises.

Visualizing him losing his tightly-coiled control is going to be amazing to watch take hold in person, but for now, it’ll be in my dreams. I move the toy along the length of my torso, not stopping until it’s lying on top of pubic mound, imagining Jude’s dick doing similar.

“Fuck.” I look down, realizing the dildo I’m using is no way as long or thick as his.

It’s a heck of a lot smaller and in turn could mean Jude will have to work his way inside me slowly, or I’m going to be tender, as in walking-funny-the-next-day kind of tender.

A flutter of sensations races across my body.

I want the experience more than ever. The cold glass slides along my clit.

The light patch of hair I keep short and trimmed above the lips of my pussy surrounds it.

My eyes close when I press the tip inside my center, my thighs quiver, my feet nearly slip from their stance on the mattress, and I’m already sucking greedily at the toy.

At this rate, I may not even need my wand.

My wetness allows the dildo to slip inside me, feeling each delicious inch, the grooves hitting me in a way my breathing ramps up in speed.

“Jude,” I moan, moving the toy in and out of my wet depths.

It’s as if he’s here with me and it’s his cock doing what I am to myself.

Except I’d feel a delicious burn, yearn for more, and goad him to go harder and faster.

He’d lose it, slamming his hips so hard, my body would move along the mattress.

All six foot three inches of him would hover above me.

We’d be slick with sweat, his hair drenched as he attempts to hold back, to work us both up yet keep us on the edge.

“So close.” I reach for my wand. I’m more than ready for more.

Next time, I’m going to pull out my other toy, the one that helps work my ass, especially since Jude has an affection for it and I’ve yet to have sex back there, unless it was of the manmade variety.

The minute I hit the power button, the buzzing reverberates through the room.

I press it against my clit, and my hand is off the toy inside me.

The way my pussy is clenching around it, I won’t need to grip it steady.

I’m able to use one hand on the Shibari wand, holding it firmly on my clit, while the other can go back to my nipple.

I go back to my fantasy, the one where Jude grinds his pelvis on my clit, swiveling his hips in a counter-clockwise motion before reversing.

My body tightens, and the edge of darkness attempts to take over, pulling me into my orgasm faster than I initially wanted.

I’m back to hoping for more time, more fantasies, and definitely coming a second time.

Except Jude slips out, only leaving the tip of his cock before pounding into me.

He does this over and over until I’m gasping.

My body is shuddering, my eyes are screwed tightly shut, I can feel pinpricks on my skin, and through it all, he still doesn’t let himself go.

Jude slows down, fucking me through my orgasm, and since I barely got my hand on my breast, I move it back down my body .

The tips of my fingers wrap around the toy, emulating the same thing Jude is doing, and I really want the real deal, desperately.

I keep going, wringing out my pleasure. It’s then I feel Jude.

He stops moving. My eyes latch on what he’s watching.

His length is pulled out, shiny and slick, coated with my wetness, and only the tip remains inside.

His body vibrates, intensifying my visual.

He groans my name, and I’m caught. I want to see what he does, yet I also want to watch his face when he’s in the throes of ecstasy.

Through it all, my pussy sucks at him, much like it is the toy right now.

Jude’s eyes are at half mast, his cheeks hollow in and out, and his teeth are nipping at his lower lip.

Only then do I feel it, the pulsing of him as he comes inside of me.

There’s so much that it spills out. He doesn’t like that and starts working his cock back inside me.

“Jesus.” I’m unable to keep the toy inside me.

I’m too wet, too sensitive, and wrung the fuck dry.

I pull away from my clit and flop onto my pillow, completely devoid of any energy.

And while it’s my mess coating the lips of my pussy, the insides of my thighs, and everywhere else, in my alternate reality, it's Jude’s, and he pushes it back inside with two thick fingers.

I fling my arm over my eyes. Anytime I come while thinking of Jude, it’s like this, well, not this intense.

Nevertheless, I’m only allowing myself five more minutes before I get up, finish packing, and head out the door.

My eyes close, and right when I let out a tired yawn, a buzzing noise goes off.

“No fucking way.” I sit up straight, moving the blankets around while looking for my toy thinking it took on a life of its own and started vibrating across the sheets.

I’m lifting my leg, then the sheets, still trying to find the damn vibrating wand, when my eyes shift to the ground, and I notice it lying there.

It’s then I realize my phone is buzzing along the wood nightstand.

“You’re an idiot, Ronnie.” I swipe the offending device and let out a squeal when I realize it’s Jude trying to video call me.

I drop the phone, stand up so quickly my head spins, and scramble to figure out what to do.

“Think, think, think. Okay, I can do this.” I snag my shirt off the bed, hold it up to my chest, and hit the green button.

“Hey.” I’m out of breath, my hair is messy, and I’m sure there’s a flush to my heated skin.

“Foxy, not sure you should have answered the phone looking like you do right now. What’s beneath the shirt?” My thighs clench, and I realize the error of my ways. I’m lucky when there isn’t a noise from my orgasm.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I wiggle my eyebrows. It’s not very quick witted, but it’ll do.

“Fuck yeah, I really would.” I’m holding the phone out with one hand while the other is clutching my shirt. Hopefully, I don’t give him a nip slip, though I’m thinking he wouldn’t mind it whatsoever.

“Anyways…” There’s no way I can take another conversation filled with verbal foreplay even with my core begging for another orgasm.

“Is everything okay? I promise I’m leaving in, like, ten minutes, max fifteen.

” I’m not doing anything exuberant with my hair today—a ponytail or a bun.

My outfit is more relaxed, too. There are still three more days, and I don’t want to overdo it when everyone knows the last day of the festival is when you go all out.

“Take your time. You weren’t answering your texts.

I wasn’t sure if you were already on the road, so I placed the order, but instead of the blue store, you’ll have to hit the red store.

You want a coffee before I hit Send ?” He licks his lips, and my nipples decide they like it when he does that.

Jude focuses on my chest, particularly the area where my fingers are.

One is above my nipple, the other below, and there’s no denying how I feel when he’s around.

“That works. Sorry, I got sidetracked, and I would love a coffee. Iced caramel latte with sweet cream.” Jude’s eyes darken.

“You got it. Text me when you leave, yeah?”

“I will.” We hang up the phone, even though I can tell he wants to stay on the line. Except if I do that, I’ll be naked, then I’ll beg to do more than talk, and that will only prolong the process in getting to see Jude in the flesh.