God, Judge Oakley made love with his hands.
But he fucked with his mouth.
“Honey,” I whimpered.
He took one arm from around me, tucking his hand behind my knee, pushing it up and to the side, spreading me wide.
Oh God.
He then drew so hard on my clit, my entire body convulsed. I was pre-orgasm instantly.
And I couldn’t wait.
He lifted his head, but so I wouldn’t feel his loss, he slid a finger inside me, slowly stroking.
Oh yes.
“You don’t come without me inside you, Chloe, and I don’t mean my finger,” he growled from between my legs. “Can you take more?”
No.
“Yes,” I gasped.
It was hot and amused when he asked, “Are you lying?”
“No,” I said.
Yes.
He kept his finger inside me as he rolled my other leg off his shoulder and surged up over me.
The instant he caught my eyes, I pouted.
He grinned.
After an outward stroke, the inward one was two fingers.
My eyes went hooded.
“I want us to come together, baby,” he said.
“I want that too, Judge.”
Eventually, perhaps the next round.
“Come together and come together. You can come in my mouth later.”
Oh my God.
I was squirming, what with what his fingers were doing, what his mouth had done, the vision of the breadth of his muscled shoulders and that handsome face all I could see.
Then there were the candles, rose petals, the awaiting champagne.
I didn’t need him talking dirty.
I used my hands on him, anywhere I could touch him, and ordered, “Then get on with it.”
“I wanna eat you more.”
“I want that too.”
“You were about to go.”
“I was not.”
I so was.
He started chuckling.
“Judge!” I cried.
He slid his fingers out but then used them to circle my clit.
That was such delicious torture, I arced up into him.
Not fair!
“Fuck, didn’t think you could get more beautiful, but there it is,” he groaned.
My hands were now moving on him desperately, trying to pull him to me.
“Change my mind, gonna make you come and watch,” he said gruffly.
I rubbed against his fingers, my own diving into his hair, and I used this hold to pull me closer to him.
“Come inside,” I breathed.
He added a thumb and gave me a gentle pinch.
At the rocket of sensation that blasted through me, I mewed, and my hand fisted in his hair, my hips moving frantically.
Judge turned his head to watch the work of his hand and murmured encouragingly, “Ride those, baby.”
“Judge,” I gasped.
His eyes came to mine.
I felt my pussy contract at the heat in them.
“You’re magnificent. Predictable and totally a surprise,” he growled.
“Come inside.”
“Keep riding.”
At this point, I was not above begging.
So I did.
“Please, come inside.”
He put more pressure on and my head fell back.
“There we are,” he whispered, righted my head, kissed me deep, then he shifted.
Using a knee to press my legs apart, he knelt between them, took his fingers from me, reached under a pillow and pulled out a condom.
Yes.
I sat up to get my hands on him, my mouth, but ran into a hand in my chest that pushed me back down.
“Judge.”
“Lie back.”
“Judge.”
He ripped the condom open with his teeth and then I was glad I was up on my elbows because I could watch him roll it on his lengthy, thick, hard cock.
I hadn’t gotten a good look at that hefty dose of Judge’s beauty.
I gave myself that as well as taking in his long torso, the veins popping in his biceps and forearms, the vee of muscles that acted as guideposts to treasure.
That was where my eyes were resting when he fell forward into both hands on either side of me, did a push-up and kissed me in the middle of it with an added tongue sweep before his gaze locked to mine, and he whispered, “Guide me home, Chloe.”
I didn’t make him ask twice.
I found his cock, wrapped my hand around it, watching his jaw clench at my touch, his eyes darken, feeling a surge of power at his response, and I brought him home.
I drew my hand away, and without hesitation, Judge slid all the way in on a single, slow, leisurely stroke.
And then he was a part of me.
He was mine.
Lord, I might start crying again.
When he’d filled me, taking him, having him, instinctively I wrapped my legs around his lower back.
I did that tight.
Like a vise.
A claim.
My brand.
He stilled.
I needed him to move.
And I wanted us to stay just like this forever.
“Taste good, honey, feel better,” he murmured.
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I was feeling too much.
I just held on with my legs and lifted my hand to his face.
I touched his cheek, his temple, his jaw, running a fingertip along the edge of his beautiful bottom lip.
“Chloe.”
I looked from his lips to his eyes.
“Why is everything about you perfect?” I asked.
He’d been holding steady, buried inside, connected to me.
With that, it seemed he turned to stone.
And then there was champagne in a bucket on the ottoman and rose petals under us, candles flickering, firelight dancing in the room.