Page 83 of The Surrender

I climb into bed and listen as he moves around the bedroom, undressing, and a few moments later, the bed dips and he’s curling himself around my body. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, kissing my shoulder and slipping his hand under my T-shirt onto my stomach.

“You exhaust me.”

“I’m staying the night.” Pushing his lips into my hair, he breathes in long, his chest inflating against my back. And then he settles. And because he’s here, wrapped around me, I do too.

Chapter 19

Light floods into the bedroom through the slatted blinds, making me squint as I sit up and look around. I can hear noise coming from the kitchen, so I pull my hair into a ponytail as I follow the sound, finding Jude in his boxers opening and closing cupboards. He sees me by the door and smiles timidly. “I was going to make coffee, but I can’t find a kettle.”

“I don’t have one yet.” I pass him on my way to get a glass of water, but don’t make it. He seizes my arm and gently pulls me into his front, kissing me soft and slow. The smell of him and feel of him against me wakes up my senses, and I succumb to the energy between us, accepting his tongue in my mouth, pushing my front into his. “I’m not talking to you,” I mumble, my hands disappearing past the waistband of his boxers.

“I’m not asking you to.” He lifts me to his body, and every limb curls around him as he walks us back to my bedroom. He sits me down on the edge and kneels on the floor, putting his hands on my thighs and spreading them.

“Shit,” I whisper, as he kisses the insides of my knees, sending ripples of need through me. He peeks up at me, his lips moving agonisingly slowly, his eyes telling me he’s enjoying my building condition. I lift my T-shirt over my head and throw it aside, dropping to my elbows and looking down my body into his hungry gaze as he dots kisses up the insides of my thighs, alternating between legs, each press of his lipsinto my flesh having me tense a little bit more in anticipation. Then when he reaches the sensitive, delicate skin just shy of my entrance, he nibbles and sucks, and I groan, my head rolling. The tip of his tongue skims the tip of my clit, making me convulse, and then swirls deep, making me shake.

“Jude,” I murmur, and he hums against me, lapping greedily through my wetness, sucking me into his mouth, pushing his tongue inside me. My shoulders start to ache from holding myself up, but I don’t tumble to my back. I want to see him. I sit up, spread my legs more, hold his hair in my fists, and look down at his face buried in my pussy. It’s the most erotic vision, his lips wet, his eyes sparkling, his fingers clawing into my thighs as he licks me out, feasts on me, his hot mouth encasing me, kissing, biting, sucking, swirling. The fingertips of one hand un-claw, and he reaches between his legs, groaning when he takes himself in a fist. “Oh God,” I whisper, my pleasure pushed into a whole new frenzy. “Jude.”

He works himself as he works me, taking us higher, my fists in his hair brutal, making him hiss when I yank.

“I’m coming,” I yell, out of my mind, dizzy, every inch of me burning. “I’m coming!” I feel myself reach the point of no return, my breath held to take the hit, but suddenly his mouth is gone. “Jude!” He yanks me off the bed onto his lap, and I sink down on a yell, my build revived. My mouth homes in on his shoulder, clamping down as he fills me to the absolute brim. “I won’t be long,” I warn, knowing the moment we start moving I’m going to be flung into delirium. I kiss the spot I’ve just bitten and across his neck to his jaw, onto his lips.

“Me either.” He lifts his arse from his heels, raising to his knees and then his feet, all the while keeping us connected. My back meets a wall. His eyes explode with intent. “Ready?”

“No.” The word is pure air. “I’m never ready for you, Jude Harrison.”

He groans and swoops in, taking my mouth hard and pushing me up the wall with a swivel of his hips, kissing me violently.

And it’s glorious.

The sweat is instant. The shock waves relentless. His control and accuracy are faultless, every drive measured. I slide up and down the wall on constant yells, fighting with his hair, pulling, biting at his lip, the deepness he’s achieving sending me wild.

“Still not talking to me?” he grunts, following up his question with a particularly brutal pound.

“No.” I fist his hair at his temples and hold tight, making him face me. I look into his eyes, enduring his power and pace, taking it all. “Fucking hell, Jude,” I gasp, slamming my head back, the friction of the plaster rubbing against my spine becoming sore, my hand throbbing. “Oh God.” I puff and pant, my stomach muscles in pieces, enduring his power.

“Keep making those noises, baby.”

“Oh, Jesus.” I can feel it threatening, slithering through my body. “Oh God.”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Jude!”

“I’ve got you, baby.”

“Oh God!”

“Come on!”

“Oh, yes!”

“Fuck, you look incredible.”

“I’m coming!”

He growls and hammers on, faster. Harder.

“Jude!”