Page 69 of Elf-ish

“The prettiest,” he groans at the sharp, wet peaks, blowing on one before traveling to the other, teasing it in the same manner.

“Jude,” I whimper, shivering as he moves down my body, pressing kisses to my midsection.

“That’s right. Jude. I’m here. I’m the one who’s going to take care of you.” He reaches the top of my waistband. “And I’m the one who wants you to show me that sweet pussy. Gonna let me spread you wide, use my fingers, my mouth, my tongue, angel? Lift.”

Without answering him, I lift my hips for his ease in removing my pants.

“No panties?” His head pops up and those typically cold eyes are deep wells of desire.

“I need to do laundry,” I admit, embarrassed.

“Lucky me,” he mutters, glancing back at the strip of hair on my mound while he pulls my pants further down my legs.

Jude settles between my thighs, wrapping my legs over his shoulders. Once there, he stares at where I’m anxious for his touch.

“It’s my fingers touching you,” he murmurs, swiping through slick folds and quickly finding that triggering nub.

“My fingers filling you.” One easily glides inside me and my back bows.

I whimper at the sweet intrusion, full but not satisfied with only one finger.

As if reading my thoughts, he pulls back and adds a second, watching my face as they disappear inside me.

“So eager.” With his eyes still focused on my face, he lowers and flicks his tongue where I’m most sensitive.

My hips flinch. My thighs clench.

“Gonna be my tongue that licks this sweetness. Makes a mess of you.” Then he dives in.

It’s been so long since I’ve been in this situation, that I’ve almost forgotten how sensitive I am, how easily I can be aroused, how much I’ve missed this kind of intimacy.

Only, Jude isn’t particularly gentle. He sucks my lower lips before flicking my clit like a man on a mission. One determined to drag me up a mountain and dangle me over the peaked top, like I’m hanging by a rope off an imaginary sleigh, when all I want is to travel down the other side, chasing the high of racing. Eventually, I totter over the edge, barreling down the opposite slope, feeling my blood rush to the center of my being.

“Jude,” I cry out, loud and shocked at how quickly he brought me to this point. Then I simply enjoy the ride as he doesn’t relent, twirling and swirling, and blowing on that trigger spot like a private blizzard.

Which winds me up for a second coming, literally.

“Jude?” I question, as he continues to lick and lap, squeezing at my backside with his firm hands, and tipping up my hips, like I’m a treat he’d like a second helping of.

My fingers fist in the shortness of his hair as my body preps for another spin. The spiral is a little slower but no less intense when I finally crest a new hill and whiz over it, sailing down another curve of arousal.

“Jude.” His name is one long syllable, punctuated by the hitch in my breath near the end. My hips sag. My backside rests in his hands. I flip my arm over my eyes, hiding them in the crease of my elbow.

What the hell just happened to me?

Jude Ashford happened to me, that’s what. He’s acted out a fantasy, making it a reality, and I just came twice in a matter of minutes.

A full-on kiss is pressed to where I’m swollen and soaked, and then Jude lifts his upper body, forcing my legs to fall from his shoulders. He tugs my arm free from my face.

When his eyes connect with mine, they remain bright, almost wild. Nothing like that moment they closed off in the inn a week ago. Where I’d been willing to give him my body, but he seemed turned off by the possibility. He didn’t want to have sex with me.

What changed?

I wanted a chance at something more.

He’d said that, right? But what had he meant?

Jude slowly folds upward to his knees again, staring down at where I’m the mess he promised to make of me.