Fool For You (Made for Love Book 4) (60 page)

I want him so much, I don’t know how to say no.

My God, this man—he was not made to be resisted.

We don’t speak a word the entire ride to his place. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but for the ten minutes it takes to reach our destination, I focus all my attention on my attempt to keep my tears at bay. The blow of walking in and seeing him with that blonde, the same one I saw leaving his house after the night he stood me up, still stings. I know he said that they were just talking, but should I believe that? Given his history with her,
can
I believe that?

He pulls into his garage and shuts us in before climbing out of the car. He doesn’t speak, but I know he expects me to follow him, so I do. My eyes are glued to his back, and I can’t help but notice the light grey button-down he’s got on clinging to his broad shoulders. I can practically
feel
the tension I see there.

I take two steps into the house, and then everything shifts. Before I know what’s happening, he spins around to face me, his big hands gripping my waist as he lifts me up and forces my back against the wall. He presses his body firmly against mine, guiding my legs around his waist before he smashes his mouth over mine. Instinct beckons me to cling to him, parting my lips so that I might taste the man that I love. He grunts, sweeping his tongue through my mouth, and my sudden arousal almost makes me forget that he hurt me.

Almost
.

“Stop,” I mutter, grabbing hold of his shoulders and forcing him back. “Judah—”

“We’re not talking about this. There’s nothing more to discuss. I wasn’t going to fuck her.”

“But—”

“You’re the one I want. Nothing’s changed,” he mutters, tightening his grip around my thighs. “No more talking.”

This time, when he kisses me, his mouth angry and unrelenting, I’m powerless to stop him.

I kiss her long and hard, working to make it absolutely clear that
this
is our conversation. When her fingers grip two fistfuls of my hair, tugging just slightly, I know I’ve got her right where I want her. I slide my palms over her ass, holding her up as I pull her away from the wall. I then clap my hand against her jean-clad backside, signaling her to get down.

“Let go,” I mumble into her mouth, my lips still grazing hers. She obeys, sliding down my chest. As soon as her feet are on the ground, my hands make quick work of the button and the zipper that stand in my way. She moans, her arms still wrapped around me, her lips desperately seeking mine as I rip her jeans and panties down her legs. Without a word, she holds onto me as she steps out of the obstructive clothing, leaving her Toms behind as well. When I return to my full height, she’s forced to let me go—but her hands don’t hesitate to reach for my belt as she attempts to help me undress.

By the time I’ve rid my neck of my tie, my fly is down, and that’s all I need. I pull out my stiff cock and then reach for Teddy, holding on to the back of her legs as I spread her open. Slowly, I penetrate her entrance, pinning her back against the wall, and she sighs.

It’s the sound of her surrender—and it’s heavenly.

This. Right here.
This
is what I want.
This
is what I crave.

Just us
.

I pull out and then slam back in, eliciting a hungry groan from out of her sweet mouth. I grunt in reply, ramming into her fast and hard. Soon, the hallway is filled with nothing more than the sound of heavy breaths, greedy moans, and the heady scent of
sex.
Sweat trickles down my back and chest, seeping through my undershirt. Her skin glistens as well, and I reach up to grab a fistful of hair, pulling her head back to expose the delicate skin of her fine neck. She whimpers as I run my tongue from just above her shirt, all the way to her ear. I bite down on her lobe, and her legs tighten around me, her hands groping and grabbing me where they may.

“
Judah!
”

“What do you need, sweetheart? Hmm?” I mutter, nibbling the side of her jaw.

“
Harder,
” she breathes. “I want more of you—I need
all
of you, Jude! Please—
show me
.”

A growl crawls its way from my throat as I pound into her, holding back nothing as I finally unleash the beast she’s turned me into. Every bit of irritation, every bit of anger, every bit or resentment that I felt today is released as I ravage her against the wall. Then, when my eyes meet hers, something else inside of me snaps. Suddenly, every thrust isn’t just a means to a much needed release. It’s not just about this fight. It’s not just about Diana or Geoff—it’s about
everything
. It’s about every goddamn thing she’s made me feel since the moment I laid eyes on her. It’s about how she’s turned me into a fucking a fool—something I swore no woman would ever do again.

I grit my teeth, taking both of her hands and pinning them on the wall above her head. I no longer want her touch—I want her to feel mine. I want to fuck her like she’s completely fucked me. She whimpers once more, her eyes filling with tears. When a few trickle down her cheeks, I don’t bother to stop, knowing I’m seconds away from getting off—knowing that I will get her there, too.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” I mutter, pressing my forehead against hers. “
Come
for me,” I repeat, dropping a hand between us. As soon as my thumb grazes her clit, she starts to tremble. Within seconds, her tight pussy clenches around me and she screams as I spill my release inside of her.

I don’t pull out of her right away. Instead, we stay locked together, both of us gasping for air. After a moment, I free her hands, reaching up with my own to wipe away her tears. She watches me but doesn’t speak. I can still feel her trembling, and concern quiets the animal inside of me.

“Did I hurt you?” She doesn’t answer at first, causing me to frown at her. “Answer me, Teddy.”

“I’m okay,” she whispers.

“Did I
hurt
you?”

“I haven’t forgotten my safe word, Judah. I’m
okay
. You were only giving me what I asked for.”

I stare at her for a moment. My shy girl. My breakable girl. I know, now, that it’s time to put her back together again. I kiss her lips softly before sliding my hands around her back, holding her close. She rests her cheek on my shoulder as I toe my way out of my shoes and step out of my pants. My dick still buried deep, I carry her down the hall, entering my bedroom and heading straight for the bathroom, setting her on the counter beside the sink.

After I pull out, I strip the rest of my clothes off, tossing them in the hamper before I grab a clean wash cloth.

“Did you call her?” she speaks, halting my movements.

I scowl at her, wondering why—after the orgasm she just had—
why
she thinks such a question is relevant.

“No,” I answer flatly.

“So…you two, together—that was just a coincidence?”

I shake my head, scrubbing my hand down my face before I reply, “Call it whatever you want, Teddy.”

“But—”

I close the distance between us, gripping her chin as I tilt her head up so I can see straight into her eyes. “Our rules of exclusivity haven’t changed. Have I made myself clear?” I ask point blank, tired of her accusations. I’ve done nothing wrong.

She offers me a nod and I seal the conversation closed with a firm kiss to her lips. When I pull away, I help her undress, soak the cloth in warm water, and wring it out before I gently wipe her pussy clean. She hisses when I make contact with her sensitive flesh, and my eyes meet hers instantly. She bites down on her lower lip, as if
apologizing
for her discomfort.

“I warned you I wouldn’t always be gentle,” I remind her, tossing aside the rag. “But I will always be generous.” I squat in front of her, draping one of her legs over my shoulder. I then take hold of her opposite ankle, lifting her foot until it’s curled around the counter’s edge, leaving her wide open for me.

“Jude…what are you doing?”

“I’m about to eat my woman’s cunt. Relax, sweetheart. You’ll feel better in a minute.”

She sucks in a breath with the first swipe of my tongue, and the moan that follows ensures me that it’s not pain she’s focused on right now. I tease her entrance, coaxing her arousal, and then suck her clit into my mouth. When she utters my name on a sigh, reaching down to slide her fingers into my hair, I’m sure of two things.

When I make her come, all else will be forgotten.

When I make her come,
victory
will be
mine
.

A
s I sit propped up on the couch, leaning against the arm rest, his head resting in my lap as he sleeps, I can’t help but be amused at how my week has turned out. Monday night, I was all by myself, restless with loneliness. Tuesday night, I was fighting with my boyfriend. And then
not
fighting with my boyfriend, until my body could endure not one more moment of pleasure. Wednesday night, I dined out with my best friend, showering him with my full attention. And tonight? Tonight, yet another man has claimed me.

I run my fingers through Steven’s rich, dark hair, the strands so silky and soft I can’t help but be a little jealous. He’s been asleep for a couple hours now, and I know I should take him up to his bed, but I don’t want to. He looks so precious, just the way that he is. I want to enjoy his sweetness for a little while longer.

When Andrew asked me to fill in for Steven’s regular sitter, who called in sick a couple hours before he and Carrie were meant to go out, I didn’t hesitate to say yes. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve hung out with their little guy, and tonight seemed like the perfect opportunity. At five, he’s a ball full of energy, and he had me chasing after him from the moment I walked in the door. I’m pretty sure we played every single board game in his collection once before dinner, and then we built the best Lego castle he had ever seen—
three times
—after dinner. While he soaked in a tub full of bubbles, I ran around the house, picking up our mess, and then I dressed him in his pajamas and we came to the couch to watch the half an hour of television he’s allowed to indulge in every evening. He was asleep within fifteen minutes of his program.

Now, as I look down at him, a pang of sadness fills my chest. I know that I will never run my fingers through the hair of my own child. Somehow, this moment—right now—feels painfully important; like I’ll never know the innocent bond of a five-year-old more intimately than I know it
right now
.

I still can’t say for sure if having children was something that I longed for. I suppose I’ll never know. Not really. My inability to have them has tainted my desires, and I can’t decipher the ache in my chest. I don’t know if I’m sad because the choice was ripped from me, or because the possibility was.

Sometimes, if I really stop and think about it, I remember that, when the time comes, I will have options—adoption being one of them. But my head isn’t ready for those decisions; I’m not equipped for them. I’m twenty-three years old, and having children has been so far off my radar, I’m overwhelmed even just mourning the loss of my fertility. I wonder if the way I’m feeling will ever go away, or if being around children will always make me question what could have been. I wonder if, with age, my pain will take a different shape. Now, I suppose, this is just part of who I am—part of my identity as a woman.