“Hi Jude,” I try and keep my voice bright, but my greeting comes out more like a wheeze. Not attractive, I know, but I’m freaking the fuck out. I try and swallow again, but it’s like a damn desert in there. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”
Lie. Total and complete fucking lie. I’ve been practicing my ninja skills along with the art of distraction every time I think he could be close by.
“You’re lying,” his tone is accusatory and a little hurt.
Before I can even process what’s happening, he grabs my wrist and pulls me away from the desk and into the supply closet. It’s not a big space, but with the way Jude is looming over me, I feel closed in and caged. I don’t like it. I want to run. The beating of my little rabbit heart is almost demanding it.
His gray eyes soften as he looks at me and he hauls me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me and cocooning me in warmth. As much as I try and fight it, my body relaxes against his and it feels so damn good, so right.
But Killian and Coyle made me feel the same way the other night.
“You don’t need to be scared, Edison,” his voice is a whisper against the top of my head. “We won’t hurt you.”
I don’t say anything, I don’t think I can. I shake my head against his chest and burrow deeper, as if me getting smaller will prevent him from saying anything else. I know it won’t.
He grabs my shoulders and pushes me away from him just far enough to look down into my eyes. “You shouldn’t have run away from us, Edison. I think, maybe,” he gets a thoughtful look on his face, “we weren’t clear enough with you.”
My voice is a croak, “Clear about what?”
“We want you. Only you. You’re ours,” he speaks slowly, enunciating each word like they have weight and value.
From the way they hit my heart and soul, they do.
Before I can say anything, Jude slams his mouth down on mine and my body takes over, shoving my brain out of the way like the psycho bridesmaid at a wedding during the bouquet toss. My body is fully on board with this.
Jude pries my lips open, his tongue snaking along my bottom lip before he plunges it into my mouth. When I moan and he swallows it down, I know I’ve lost. I’m floating on a sea of what this man in front of me is offering, but I’m still very much aware how he spoke in plurals.
We want you. Only you. You’re ours.
When I rip my mouth away from Jude’s, he starts to protest, but I cut them off by dropping to my knees and practically clawing his pants open. If the hussy is in charge, it’s best to go full tilt. Right?
When his cock springs free, I suck in a sharp breath because it’s clear I was not paying enough attention the other night. Or maybe I was in some kind of pleasure induced out of body experience? I’m not sure, but now, being front and fucking center with Jude’s cock, I have to say that it is a damn good-looking one.
It’s the perfect thickness for the delicious stretch I remember, and the flared head is darker than his shaft. There’s no curve on his, but I remember Coyle had one and don’t get me started on Killian’s piercings.
Jude’s cock is a Goldilocks dick. However, I know the other two in this little ‘we want you’ tribute band are just as good. I don’t think I could pick one over the other two. They’re all just right. Why the hell am I thinking about fairy tales right now when I have a real cock in front of me?
I wrap my fingers around the base of his dick as Jude’s hands shoot out and grip both sides of my head. When I look up into his eyes, they’re wide and feral as his chest heaves. When a drop of pre-cum beads on the tip, I lap at it and watch as his eyes roll back in his head.
“Fuck,” he grunts under his breath, “are you going to suck my cock, little mouse?”
I don’t answer. Do I really need to?
I press a kiss to the crown before I flare my lips open, sliding my mouth open just enough to take him in. I slide down his length until he bumps the back of my throat, moving slowly, torturing him, teasing him. I slide back up with the same measured movements.
Jude’s grip tightens on my head, but he doesn’t start to move his hips even though part of me is expecting him to take over. With a squeeze to the base of him, in thanks, I start to move my hand in tandem with my mouth, working him over and loving every single sound he’s making.
It’s sexy as fuck and I wish I could get some damn friction on my clit, but I can’t so I focus on the task at hand.
“So pretty on your knees for me, Edison. You look like a miracle with my cock in your mouth,” he grits the words out through his teeth.
When I moan, his entire body shudders. It makes me feel powerful. Invincible.
I start to move faster, taking a little bit more of his length every time I slide down his shaft. When he bumps my throat the next time, I swallow. The snarl that comes out of Jude has me quivering on the floor of the supply room.
I can’t look away from him. Seeing the way he’s clenching his jaw, the muscles of his neck in stark relief, and knowing I’ve made him feel this way is a huge turn on. I think the only time I’ve been wetter in my life was the other night when I had all three of my men at the same time.
My men?