Page 112 of This Could Be Us

I let my eyes run down the length of my body, and I can’t help but notice the imperfections. All the ways I’mnotfantastic. The stretch marks from three kids. A bit of a mommy pouch that no amount of ab work will make go away. The skin around my belly button, a little looser than the rest, that only a scalpel would dispatch.

None of it seems to matter to Judah, who kneels at the foot of the bed to unzip one sharp-toed ankle boot and then the other. He kisses the arch of my foot, licks up my calf, sucks the inner skin of my thigh until he reaches the core of me.

“I’ve waited for this.” His voice goes even deeper and rougher than usual. I meet his lust-drugged eyes over the tiny tuft of hair—

HAIR!

Dear God, no.

“Um, Judah.” I squeeze my knees together. “I haven’t done this in a long time, ya know?”

“I know.” He nudges my knees an inch apart. “And it’s been a lot longer for me.”

“Uh-huh.” I snap my knees back together. “I just… but I… the thing is I didn’t know this was happening.”

He coaxes my knees apart, hope in the eyes that meet mine again. “But now it is, right?”

“Yes, but I didn’t… I haven’t waxed.” I slide my eyes away from him, flick them up to the tray ceiling.

“I want you however you come.”

My eyes zip back to his. My breath hitches, and a hot lump swells in my throat. I try to swallow but can’t, and a little whimper escapes my lips.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart,” he says, running a palm up and down my calf. “I would hack through a forest to get to this pussy, and I’ve waited long enough.”

As soon as I open, he drags me to the edge of the bed, until my ass is almost hanging off, and takes my legs over his shoulders. His fingers peel me back and then his mouth is on me. He groans, grunts, slurps. He bites, sucks, invades. It is thorough, like Judah is in all things. There is not an inch of me left dry when he’s done. I’m dripping, screaming, straining to get away because it feels unbearably good, but he holds me in place and eats me out until I come so hard the blood pounds in my ears and my clit throbs. This orgasm hits my system hard, and I’m so drunk on it, I’m barely lucid. He licks at the slickness between my legs, his hunger building again as he bends my knees up so my heels hang at the edge of the bed. I’m delirious, so limp and half out of my mind, I barely think about how exposed I am. The cool air on the hot, wet strip of flesh revives me long enough to see him, rubbing the insides of my thighs and dipping his head to start all over.

“I can’t, Judah,” I moan. “Not again.”

And yet I grip his head with both hands, pull him to the center of my body, begging for his lips, his teeth, his lust. There is a bottomless well of need inside me, and he keeps pouring and pouring until miraculously I start feeling full.

When I come again, he stands beside the bed and strips his clothes off with quick efficiency. I crack my eyes open to watch him and lift up on one elbow.

“You’re the fantastic one,” I say, my voice cracked and hoarse from screaming his name, alternately begging for mercy and for more.

He is long, sinewy lines and ripples of well-conditioned muscles. He has a runner’s body, but bulkier at the biceps and thighs than I would expect. His shoulders and back are a landscape of sculpted male beauty.

And his dick.

It juts proudly erect from a stack of ridged abs. I swallow, not nervous because I’ve had three kids. I know I can take him, but it’s been so long since anyone was up in there. So long since I had the intimacy of a naked man staring at me the way Judah stares at me now. I would love to gape at him for a few minutes.

He has other ideas.

He reaches into the nightstand and pulls out a condom, making quick work of opening it and sheathing himself.

“For someone who hasn’t done this in four years,” I say, grinning up at him, “you sure are prepared. Exactly how old are those condoms?”

“When was the Harvest Festival?” He climbs onto the bed wearing nothing but a condom and a smile. “I bought them that night on the way home.”

“Cocky,” I say, reaching to wrap my hand around his dick.

“Hopeful,” he chokes out, the smile dropping from his face. “You do know it’s been four years. You do much of that, and this won’t last long.”

I open my legs and nudge his hip, inviting him to come to me.

“Four years, huh?” I wrap my legs around him, hooking my ankles at the base of his spine. “I hope it’s worth the wait.”

I push up at the same moment he thrusts down, and we both go completely still. The first thing I note is how incredibly right it feels, like someone molded me to his proportions. Then I notice that inside this deep pleasure, there is the slightest bit of discomfort.

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