Page 41 of Wicked Temptations
“Good.”
I stopped anything else he might say by tapping my cock against his cheek, leaving a smear of spit and precome across his skin. His eyes fluttered closed for a second, and when they opened again, they were hazy and unfocused.
I did it again, harder this time, and watched the flush spread down his throat.
“Oh yeah, you like that, huh?” Jude nodded as I pushed my cock across his face, painting an obvious claim.
The bass from the bar bled through the walls, distorted and relentless. Someone laughed outside, drunk and too loud. The floor beneath Jude’s knees was stained with god knows what,dark patches on cracked tile that should’ve made this disgusting. Should’ve made us both reconsider.
It didn’t.
His tongue darted out, caught the head of my cock, and he looked up at me through dark lashes.
Then his mouth was on me again, and I couldn’t think anymore. Could only feel. His tongue. His throat. The way he took me like he owned me, even while kneeling on the floor. The contradiction of it, of him, was going to destroy me.
I felt the pressure building, felt my control starting to slip. He must have felt it too because he doubled down, his throat constricting around me in a way that made stars burst behind my eyelids.
“Jude.” His name came out strangled. A warning.
He didn’t pull back or slow down. He just kept going, kept taking, until I couldn’t hold back anymore. The orgasm hit me like a freight train, and I came hard, spilling down his throat while my fingers ripped at his dark curls, forcing him to take it.
He swallowed every fucking drop. Then he pulled back slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand while he looked up at me with an expression I couldn’t read. But, fuck, he was beautiful down there. So beautiful that I finally let go of his hair and let my hand travel down his face. I cupped his jaw and traced my thumb through the mess that had dribbled from the corner of his mouth.
I collected it and pushed my way between his lips, moaning as his tongue automatically curled around my thumb to suck me clean.
I couldn’t help myself. “Good boy.” It came out as a growl, and the effect on Jude was immediate.
He hissed, jerking his head back. My hand thudded against the wall, where my thumb left a wet smear.
Jude was on his feet fast, unsteady but determined. I waited, unsure if he’d leave or grab me and try to put me on my knees to return the favor.
Instead, he shifted his stance, spreading his legs wide as he stood in front of me. His hand went to his cock, and my eyes followed the movement. It was no wonder he was tense and swaying on his feet. He was impossibly hard and leaking—abandoned—and he worked himself with quick, rough strokes. There was no finesse to it, or performance for me. Just the raw, brutal need of a man desperate to get off.
I stayed against the wall, my legs weak and trembling, and watched him. I was hypnotized, incapable of looking away as he worked.
Jude’s free hand braced against the tile beside my head, caging me in, and his breath came in ragged gasps that matched the rhythm of his fist. The tendons in his forearm stood out with each stroke, and I wanted to touch but was too afraid to break the moment. Jude’s jaw was tight, eyes half-lidded and fixed on my face like he needed to see me to get off.
“Look at you,” he growled. “Fucking wrecked.”
I was. My jeans hung open, cock still out and sensitive, my chest heaving with each breath.
His pace quickened. The muscles in his shoulders tensed, and his hips jerked forward involuntarily. Close. He was so fucking close, and the sight of it did something to me. It made me desperate for things I shouldn’t want.
This is just sex. Just physical.
Jude’s hand moved faster, his grip tightened, and then he came before I could move.
The groan that tore from his throat was unholy, and I was instantly addicted to the sound.
Hot streams of cum hit my exposed thighs and cock, marking me. He didn’t look away or close his eyes as he crashed over theedge. Jude just watched my face while he painted me with his release, claiming me just as primitively as I’d done to him.
Jude milked himself through it, making sure every drop landed on me. When he finally stopped, we were both panting.
“Pull them up,” he ordered.
I blinked. “What?”
“Your pants. Pull them up. Now.”
