He releases her nipple with a wet pop and reaches for the condom. Sophie tries to catch her breath. She’s braced above him, her arm on the back of the sofa, her very naked body visible everywhere.
Jude closes his eyes as he tears open the packet, taking a short break from the most erotic sight he’s ever seen in his life. Calm down, he orders himself. He rolls the latex down and the condom’s tight grip steadies him.
“Lie down, baby,” he says, shifting out of the way.
“Okay,” she whispers, taking his place on the sofa.
Jude kneels between her legs, nudging her knees apart. Then he drops his mouth to her beautiful pussy and kisses her.
“Oh!” she gasps.
He gets down on his elbows, drags his lips against her softness. She’s ridiculously sweet. He’s never done this for a girl before, and it’s even better than he’d imagined. The musky scent of desire envelops him, and he tries his first lick.
The result is a vise-grip on his hair and the most beautiful whimper from Sophie’s lips. “Oh God,” she cries when he does it again. “Jude!”
He’s immediately hooked. The more he tastes, the more he wants. Her legs splay open for him. The look of uncertainty is gone from her blissed-out face. So he goes to town with kisses big and small, licks and a couple of gentle sucks. Sophie curses and moans, gripping his head and then his hair.
Then she starts begging. “Please, Jude. P-please.”
She’s so close. He’s made her come many times with his fingers, and he knows all the signs. He’d planned to get her all riled up before doing the deed, so it’s now or never. Sitting up a little, he wipes his face with one hand. Then he grips the base of his cock and lines up against her. He closes his eyes.
One sweet push and he’s home. Her warmth grips him like a fist, and he braces himself to stave off the orgasm that’s been waiting since the moment she took off her bra.
Her gasp opens his eyes. She’s staring up at him in shock. “Are you okay?” he asks immediately.
“Yeah,” she breathes. “Just…”
“Hurts?” His libido dials back several notches in a hurry.
“It did,” she admits. “But now it’s already less.”
“Do you want to stop?” He leans down to kiss her nose.
She shakes her head. “Never.”
His heart spasms with happiness. He gives his hips a gentle roll, and her eyes widen. He stops again. “Hey.” He strokes her cheek with his hand. “Tell me how to help you relax.”
“Just kiss me.”
Yes, ma’am. Their mouths melt together. He slants his head to make each kiss more perfect than the one before. She sighs beneath him, relaxing into the beautiful rhythm of their making out. They’re champions at this part already. They kiss and kiss, and Jude’s hips can’t resist getting in on the action. Her mouth is so sweet and she’s firmly underneath him, just like in every one of his dirty dreams.
Sophie’s knees squeeze his hips, and she begins to meet him for every slow thrust. Her breathing hastens. She strains against him as if stretching for something that’s just out of reach.
He’s not going to last much longer. Hell, it’s a miracle he’s held it together for this long. So he sits up a little bit to make enough space between them. Then he slips his fingertips down to tease her clit, just the way she likes.
“Oh,” she pants. “Ahh…”
Sweating now, Jude pumps his hips and bites his lip. But the sight of her lush, naked body writhing beneath him is almost too much. He closes his eyes, hopefully buying himself five more seconds of patience. He’d wanted to make her first time perfect.
Then he hears it—the high-pitched gasp of victory. She sobs his name as her body clenches around his cock.
Sweet Jesus. He drops back down for one last kiss and lets go completely, thrusting with abandon. His balls hitch tight and his muscles clench and he gives a happy shout against her lips. He comes so hard that he sees spots in front of his eyes.
High on victory and satisfaction, he drops his face into her neck and whispers all the sweet, lovesick things he can think of.
And every one of them is true.
Chapter Sixteen
Sophie
Internal DJ tuned to: Billy Joel’s “Pressure”
It was hard to believe that my last set of final exams was upon me.
This—my final semester—I’d only taken two courses. My senior seminar on public health required only a take-home exam, but it was a bear. And my statistics course was no picnic, either.
Two classes didn’t sound like a lot, but I’d been working twenty-five hours a week at the hospital. That left the weekends for homework and housework. No wonder I had no life.
That would have to change in the New Year. Many things would change—I’d need to get a full-time job and move out of my parents’ house somehow. Staying there another year would never work.
But first: exams.