He’s gotta be close. He’s not going to come without letting me come, is he?
“Jude!” I clip.
“Alyssa,” he whispers, and he says it with so much tenderness, I immediately burst into tears.
He looks me in the face and his expression goes soft. So soft. He caresses my cheek, his cock stroking inside me slowly.
“Please let me come, Jude,” I plead.
His fingers go between my legs and he says, “Anything my girl wants.”
It takes less than thirty seconds for me to cry out into his mouth with the biggest orgasm I’ve ever had.
Ever.
He groans out his climax as he plants himself deep and spills inside me.
I wrap my arms around him tight and I’m sobbing into his chest. Sobbing hard.
My pussy is vibrating. It’s like I can’t stop coming. He’s not even inside me any longer, his fingers aren’t touching me, but the sensation hasn’t ebbed.
I pull my legs tight together and that makes it worse.
He flips me around so I’m on top of him. I haven’t let go. I’m still holding on tight to him, still crying into his chest.
I feel his lips touch the top of my head and he wraps those big arms tight around me.
I feel something so strange, something I’ve never felt in my entire life. I try to deconstruct. A couple things, I think. Satiety like I’ve never felt. A tingling emotion spreading through me. And safe, I think. Yeah. I feel safe.
I can’t stop crying.
I can’t let go of him.
I’m leaking his cum, hanging on tight, and bawling my eyes out. I don’t know if I can even stop.
He rubs my back, he strokes my hair, and holds me for a long, long time. I’ve leaked all over him. Finally, the crying is subsiding and I wind up with the hiccups.
After the third hiccup, I cuss. It comes out, “Fu-uck.”
“Be right back,” he whispers against my hair and drops a kiss there before carefully turning me to my side, fixing the blankets over me.
He leaves the bed and I watch. He has a pink sparkle on his ass cheek.
A smile tugs at my lips but I hold it back.
My teeth start to chatter. He’s back a minute later with a bottle of water. He reaches to the floor for one of the discarded towels and dabs between my thighs and then tosses it.
“Drink,” he says.
I sit up and take a few sips of water. He’s fixing the blankets over me again as he climbs in. He takes the water bottle from me and drinks back a big swig before setting it on the table beside the bed. I sit there, watching him do this, unsure of what to do with myself. He hits the lamp, plunging us into darkness, then reaches for me and pulls me close, so I sink into his chest and close my eyes.
He finger-combs my still wet hair away from my face, dotting kisses over my face. My nose. My eyelids. And then his lips tenderly touch mine. I tremble briefly and then nuzzle in, weaving my fingers into his hair for a minute and then I’m playing with his beard.
“Vixen?”
I look up at him. It’s too dark to see. He gives me a sweet kiss But then he goes for the throat with what he says next.
“I’m gonna find out what this is with you. I have no fucking choice. No way can I sit back and do nothing when something is eating you up inside.”
I say nothing. It doesn’t matter. Because by the time he starts digging up anything, I’ll be long gone.
I close my eyes and snuggle in deeper.
I’m not going to sleep any time soon. I’m going to feel this. I’m going to memorize it. And that way, when I’m alone somewhere else, pretending everything is just fine when it’s really not, I can dig in and replay this in my mind.
“Ally?” he asks a while later, obviously not sleeping either.
“Hm?” I reply.
“I wanna take your ass.”
“Dream on,” I say, slapping his chest while I’m still cuddled up to it. “No one has and no one will. I’m saving my ass virginity for marriage and I’m never getting married, so…”
“I’ll be the one to take it,” he warns.
And I can’t hide that my whole body is out in goosebumps.
Because the way he says that it can be taken multiple ways and of course I’m taking it in the most extreme way.
It’s not gonna happen, but maybe I can pretend for a little while before I sleep that it’s not out of the question.
21
Jude
I open my eyes and the first thing I see are big, blue eyes on me.
We’re facing one another, my arm is thrown over her waist, and our legs are tangled up. She’s staring at me.
“Mornin’,” I greet.
She’s looking at me in a way that I know would feel one hundred per cent right to see if she was at the altar in a church. This is the look a man wants to see from the woman he’s with.