“Dominant and confident,” Snow mumbled even as fire raced through his veins. “Who said you’re fucking me?”
Jude chuckled and pressed his mouth to Snow’s neck. He could feel his pulse rocketing against the man’s lips. “I’m saying it now.” Jude pulled back and met Snow’s gaze. “A man like you doesn’t give up control easily because you don’t trust easily.” His lips were barely a breath away from Snow’s. “Am I right?”
Snow stared at him for long moments before he slowly nodded.
“Have you ever been able to?”
Scowling, Snow turned his face away. “I’m not into that BDSM shit. Not into doing scenes.” He looked back, narrowed his eyes. “I call no one master, so if that’s what you’re leading up to here, I’m out of here.”
Jude slowly rocked his body against Snow’s. “None of that does it for me either. I’m not talking about that kind of thing. I’m talking about you letting me take the reins. You ever let anyone do that?” He leaned closer. “Because I like holding them.”
Snow didn’t answer. Couldn’t. He’d never been able to let go like that. Not after growing up in a sadistic family where he had no power. No way to stop them from tearing into both his body and mind like he wasn’t a real human being, but something to be pitied. Hated. Something unnatural and worse than the shit on the bottom of someone’s shoe. Terrified his thoughts would show in his expression, Snow looked away from Jude.
“Oh no, General,” he breathed, pulling his face back to his. Black eyes stared hard at him. “You are breaking my heart because I have this feeling you need more than you ever let on. And that you’re lonely in a way that not even your close friends can help.”
Snow narrowed his eyes, fear pricking his heart. “Stop psychoanalyzing me. If you want to fuck, let’s do it.” He speared his fingers in Jude’s hair and pulled him to his mouth. This time, he took control of the kiss, loving the slick, wet glide of Jude’s tongue against his. Jude sucked on his tongue again and Snow growled, holding him tighter.
Jude started unbuttoning Snow’s shirt as he pulled his mouth away. “I want skin. It would be a shame to mess up this suit that probably cost a month’s salary.” He stepped back, his open shirt showing off a body that Snow couldn’t have dreamed up. “Take it off.”
Snow smirked.
The paramedic only lifted an eyebrow and waited, his expectation that Snow would do as told both annoying and…hot. Snow’s heart started to beat so hard, he wondered if the other man could hear it. He closed his hands into fists, not sure this was going to work. Jude waited quietly, not pushing but not backing down. Snow walked to the small table at the edge of the kitchen area and turned to face Jude. He didn’t take his eyes off the man as he slowly removed his clothes and draped them over one of the chairs. Luckily, the lust racing through his body kept him from shivering in the cool air.
“Damn, I knew you had a killer body.” Jude’s gaze raked over him as he undid his belt and pulled it loose. “I’ve watched your body so much at the hospital. Pictured you naked. My imagination didn’t come close to the real thing.” He kicked off his pants and Snow understood the true meaning of killer body. Jude had wide shoulders, thick, muscled arms and thighs, and a gorgeous, long and thick dick that stood at full attention as the man stared back at him. Dark hair shadowed his arms and legs, created an intriguing patch across his chest and followed his body down. Masculine. The word fit Jude Torres. It just fit.
Snow knew he was no slouch. He worked out and he had good muscle tone, but he did not have the ability to develop thick muscles like Jude had—yet he was glad when he saw how much his body turned the other man on. Jude looked at him like he wanted to bend him over the nearest surface and go to town on his ass. The thought thrilled him and scared the shit out of him.
Snow was not used to submitting to anyone.
Ever.
But he wasn’t used to wanting someone like this either. Fuck. Scalding need burned low in his gut, made his heart pound and he thought of all the times he’d gone for mindless sex with strangers, knowing deep down that he wasn’t getting what he needed. They’d been Band-Aids on belly wounds. But he stood here, feeling like a giant, exposed nerve, raw and aching. And vulnerable.
While a part of him screamed to just let go, the side in charge screamed hell no. And the whole time, inky black eyes stared at him with a desire he’d never felt aimed at him. He wasn’t sure anyone had ever looked at him like that.