Wild, Hungry Hearts

by Unknown

  “Yes,” she whispered. Her cheeks flushed with heat at what she saw on his handsome face. “It’s lined with it.”

  “Is it soft? Against your breasts?”

  “Yes.”

  “Feel good?” he asked thickly.

  “Very.”

  With no further warning, he swept both hands down over the vest and cupped her breasts. He made a low, rough sound of appreciation.

  “Jude. We’re going to be late.”

  “How can we be late when no one’s expecting us?” he asked, finding her nipples beneath the suede and shearling and tweaking them lightly.

  “That’s true,” she admitted, mesmerized by the vision of his masculine hands rubbing her breasts in the mirror.

  “From the second I saw this vest, I thought of seeing you in it.” A finger strayed up to the gold zipper again. “Thought of taking it off you. Seeing your pretty breasts nestled against suede and this soft stuff,” he muttered, fingering the fleece.

  “It’s called shearling.” She wasn’t even sure what she said as she watched him in the mirror. His finger toyed with the tab on the zipper again. She felt an uncontrollable stabbing pleasure at her clit, as if his long finger idly caressed her there just like it did the metal tab. His other hand strayed up to the suede straps at her neck.

  “I like it, because I can imagine untying these and lowering the vest over your breasts, or I can imagine pulling on this,” he tugged gently on the gold tab, and it lowered it a half inch. “And baring you that way. What do you think?”

  “I think you have quite an imagination, Beckett.”

  He laughed, low and rough. Her sex tingled at the sound.

  “It’s a good thing I do,” he said in a mock conversational tone. “Because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t get quite the result I wanted, would I? Yeah. This is clearly the way to go.”

  Her breath stuck in her lungs, she watched intently in the mirror as he leaned over her shoulder and lowered the zipper until it was a few inches above the bottom of the vest. His big hands slid to the side of her breasts. This time when he massaged her, he parted the suede at the same time, revealing the inner swells of her breasts and the valley between them. She saw his avid stare on her in the mirror. His eyes seemed alight, like he burned on the inside. A soughing breath left her lungs.

  “You’re very dirty,” she told him frankly.

  He met her stare in the reflection and smiled.

  “You can thank me later.”

  She looked like a vivid version of his ultimate fantasy when he entered the bedroom, sitting there in front of the vanity table, wearing a pair of tight jeans and the vest. She’d loosely curled her mane of long hair. It flowed down her bare arms and back, a tangible tease that seemed to beg to be touched. Mussed. Fisted.

  In the mirror, he saw that the EsmeEs vest hugged every compact curve as tightly as his hands suddenly itched to do.

  He’d gone stone hard at the sensation of her silky skin sliding against his hand. By the time he lowered that teeth-gnashing, sexy zipper between the swells of her breasts, all thoughts of his brother or their plans had been incinerated from his brain.

  He slid his hands up above her breasts and placed them flat against the bare skin of her chest. Beneath his fingertips, her partially exposed breasts heaved. He felt her heartbeat beneath his palm, quick and strong. God, he loved the feeling of her in his hands. Her eyes looked shiny when he met her stare in the mirror.

  “Ask me to lower my hands,” he told her.

  Her lips parted in surprise at his request. Arousal stabbed at his cock, all from just staring at her mouth and the glimpse of her pink tongue.

  “Lower your hands.” His eyebrows went up expectantly. “Touch me,” she whispered urgently, reading his silent request. His arousal flared. There was still some stupid part of him that couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to touch Esme.

  Hearing her ask him made it twice as sweet.

  Slowly, he slid his hands beneath the vest, his fingers encountering soft shearling on the top and exquisitely silky, curving female flesh below. His fingertips found her nipples. They were stiff and distended. He groaned, pinching the sweet crests gently. He felt a tremor go through her.

  “Did I mention that you looked like a fantasy, when I walked in this room” he asked quietly, his hands moving beneath the vest.

  “No,” she whispered, her gleaming eyes fixed on his face.

  “You wouldn’t be offended, would you?” he wondered, cupping her breasts from below and squeezing them gently in his hands. “If I treated you like the fantasy you are for just a little while?”

  “No,” she mouthed.

  He smiled at her in the mirror. “You always were game, Es. One of the many reasons I love you.”

  He felt her quake again in his hands. “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

  “Nothing. Just be your gorgeous, sexy self. Just sit there.” His smile twitched. “Just sit there and let me have my way with you.”

  A rush of color went through her cheeks at his words. She continued to stare at him in the mirror, her lustrous eyes killing him. She’d never gotten the lipstick to her lips, but they looked flushed and full, dark pink and ripe.

  Mouth-watering.

  Her nipples would look the same.

  Slowly and deliberately, he leaned over her and parted the fabric of the vest, teasing his own senses as much as he did hers. He rolled back the shearling and suede, making a cradle for her breasts. When he straightened and looked at her in the mirror, he groaned. Her breasts were now fully exposed, highlighted by the rugged fabric of the vest surrounding them. He supposed her breasts were small, but the way the pale globes thrust out firmly from her narrow ribcage made them erotically pronounced somehow. Her nipples were amazingly erect, given that he’d just begun to play with them. And he’d been right. The crests were dark pink and flushed, just like her lush lips.

  In the mirror, he watched his hands close over the firm, tender prey of her breasts. Arousal knifed through him, the sensation so strong that he ran one hand along the shaft of his cock, trying to alleviate that sharp pain. He noticed her glassy-eyed stare in the mirror as he stroked himself.

  “See what you do to me?”

  “I’m not doing much of anything,” she said.

  He grimaced and reached over her shoulders to fondle both of her breasts again.

  “You’re doing plenty,” he assured gruffly. “He stepped closer to where she sat on a stool, pressing his pelvis lightly against the back of her head. They both watched in the mirror as he cradled her breasts tautly and rolled the stiff crests through his thumb and forefinger. He heard her soft whimper…he felt it in his crotch. As if to soothe him, she turned her head and rubbed her cheek against his erection.

  He resisted a wild urge to press her head tighter to his cock.

  “Look in the mirror, Es,” he demanded, his tone a little sharper than he intended due to his intense arousal.

  Slowly, she turned her head and met his stare in the mirror. There was a small bottle of lotion on the vanity table. He reached around her and pumped a little in his palm—not too much. He didn’t want to get any on her vest. Carefully, he rubbed a few drops on each of her nipples. He heard her exhale shakily, and realized she’d been holding her breath as she watched him. For another minute or two, he played with her breasts and finessed her nipples with the lotion until she squirmed on the stool and groaned.

  “Feeling it, too?” he asked.

  “If you mean hornier than hell, yeah,” she muttered, her mouth slanting slightly in annoyance. Es wasn’t usually the type to keep still.

  He laughed and began to unfasten his jeans. She sat up straighter at that, watching him in the mirror like a hawk. He bent and untied the black leather boots he was wearing, and then kicked them off. He made short work of removing his underwear and jeans.

  When he stood a moment later, he felt her gaze through the mirror on his cock. Just the touch of her stare made his e
rection jump an inch in the air. He winced and wrapped his fist around the shaft. Their gazes held as he stroked himself from balls to tip several times.

  “I could probably come spontaneously just from looking at your eyes.”

  She blinked, clearly surprised by his stark statement. But he’d just been telling the truth. He moved to her side, pressing in close to her. “I know you’re not the type to keep still, but you’re doing a fantastic job of letting me have my way with you, Es,” he teased her.

  She turned her head and looked up at him, a tiny Mona Lisa smile shaping her mouth.

  “I might not hate it so much,” she whispered.

  He clenched his teeth hard at the vision of her pink lips mouthing those words. Acting purely on instinct now, he placed one hand on the back of her head and used the other to guide his cock into her mouth. He watched as his hard flesh stretched her lips, but she held him like a clamp. Her tongue laved at him. He growled like an animal. She was warm and wet. She pulled at him, begging him to come deeper. He felt her suck all the way to the base of his spine. He pumped back and forth several inches, shuddering in pure pleasure.

  She was eager, and God knew, so was he. She licked at him like a flickering flame for several tense moments. He pulsed his hips between her tightly pursed lips, playing with fire. When she lifted her hand between them, however, and fisted his shaft, he knew she was about to get serious. He grabbed her wrist and urged her to let go.

  “I’m the one who’s supposed to be ravishing my fantasy. Stand up, baby,” he ordered tensely.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  When Esme stood in front of that vanity table, she was having trouble getting a full breath of air in her lungs and her legs felt like melting marshmallow. Jude helped her remove her boots and jeans. She panted by the time she stepped clear of her jeans and underwear. The sound of Jude roughly kicking aside the stool several inches made her jump. She started to turn toward him, but he put his hands on her shoulders, keeping her firmly in place while she faced the mirror. She felt him step close behind her, his cock brushing against her ass.

  His hands slid down her arms. “Brace yourself against the table, but don’t lean over too far,” he said near her ear, his deep, hoarse voice and warm breath sending quivers of excitement down her spine. He placed her hands where he wanted them on the wide table. “That’s right. I want to be able to see your breasts while I’m inside you,” he said, his tone taking on an edge. She would have never thought she wanted a man to boss her around sexually, but when Jude did it, she sensed his excitement…his sharp need to possess her. It thrilled her in a way she’d never experienced.

  “Look at you,” he said from behind her, his chin resting on her head. His large hands ran along her ribs and the suede vest, swept down to cup her bare hips, and then rose again to cradle her breasts. “You’re the most gorgeous thing, Es,” he said hoarsely, watching himself fondle her in the mirror. She wasn’t looking at herself, though. She was studying how his familiar, handsome face became utterly transformed by desire. Their gazes met in the reflection. In a flash, his wildness, that focused savagery she’d always sensed in him, seemed to leap like a lightening strike into her.

  And he was entering her…

  “Jude,” she moaned.

  He felt enormous in his need. She was bent over slightly with her hands on the table, but for the most part, she was upright. The pressure was immense at this angle. She tried to bend further at the waist to accommodate him, but he held her in place with his hands on her breasts. She realized that given his height, he must be bending his knees to manage entering her.

  “Hold still,” he muttered tensely. “I want to be able to see you.”

  Slowly, but relentlessly, he penetrated her to the hilt. Her head swam with lust and flooding sensation.

  “Look at you, Es,” he growled near her ear. “Look.”

  She blinked back the haze at his sharp command. She tried to do what he said, focusing on her image in the mirror. Her cheeks were bright pink from arousal. Her breasts looked pale in his dark hands, all except for her nipples, which had turned a vivid pink rose color. He touched them as she watched, squeezing them gently between thumb and forefinger. She moaned and winced, feeling that ache swell at her core.

  “You’re gorgeous, aren’t you?” he breathed out near her ear. “You’re my fantasy, Es. Except you’re not a fantasy,” he said, squeezing her breasts more tautly in his hands. His cock flared in her, making her moan shakily. “You’re right here, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” she hissed. She felt a drop of sweat trickle between her breasts. “God, yes.”

  “Reality is so much sweeter,” he breathed out ominously before he moved. He flexed his hips, pumping in and out of her with firm, short strokes. Her gasp twined together with his rough groan. For a tense moment, he thrust harder, their flesh slapping together in an erotic tempo that echoed around Esme’s head until she felt dizzy from lust.

  Then he paused.

  He released her right breast, his hand lowering down over her heaving belly. She held her breath, watching as he swept it down between her thighs. He rubbed her sex boldly. Knowingly. A violent tremor went through her at his touch. He worked his forefinger between her labia.

  “So creamy,” he muttered thickly, nipping and dragging his teeth along her earlobe. “Do you have any idea what’s it like? For me to find you this wet?”

  “Huh?” Esme managed, because she couldn’t think, let alone speak. His arm moved up and down, his finger forcefully and precisely manipulating her clit. He opened his hand on her hip and started to push her up and down on his cock, just a fraction of an inch. She sizzled beneath his hand. The roaring in her ears took on the quality of a charging freight train. She bobbed on his cock faster. Harder.

  She lit up like a firecracker.

  Everything went dark for a few seconds as pleasure flooded her. The only other thing she was aware of besides the explosion of sensation convulsing through her body was Jude’s voice.

  “That’s right. You come so hard, don’t you? There’s nothing like being at the center of you when you do.

  “Here. Put your hands down. Es.”

  She blinked at him saying her name urgently. She stared at her own face just inches away in the mirror. Jude had lifted her onto the wide vanity table. She looked down. Her knees were resting on the edge, and one of Jude’s arms was wrapped around her waist. She cried out, disoriented, when she realized he wasn’t inside her anymore. She heard the sound of her cosmetics falling and scattering, and realized Jude was sweeping them aside. He put one hand on her wrist.

  “Brace yourself,” he insisted grimly.

  There was just enough room on the vanity for her to put down her hands, so that she was on all fours. Even so, it was a narrow space in which to operate. He grasped onto one hip and ass cheek tightly. His cock pierced her.

  She screamed.

  She would have fallen from her precarious perch if he didn’t hold her hips like a vice. He kept her completely immobile. All the frantic movement came from Jude. He thrust fast and sure from the first, his hips pumping with liquid force.

  When she started to bob even slightly to meet his vehement possession, he hooked his forearms beneath her armpits and held her even more rigidly in place. Unable to move, she just watched him in the mirror as he took her with the force of a cyclone. It was like he was trying to exorcise some old demon…like he was succeeding.

  I’ll remember him like this forever. Until my dying day.

  The thought came like a quiet song in the midst of pounding chaos. She felt him swell inside her, the sensation unbearably exciting. He pulled her back at her shoulders, so that her hands came up off the desk. In the mirror, she saw his face clamp tight, as if from the effort of carrying a huge weight that grew by the second. A massive shudder went through him. A shout erupted out of his throat, the sound sending a primal thrill through Esme.

  He thrust in hard, short strokes while he climaxed, ho
lding her so tight against him, his muscles bulged with the effort.

  Esme knew from experience that Jude was a natural athlete who was still in prime condition. But afterwards, it took a full two minutes for his panting to slow. She just watched him in the mirror as he came back to himself, a sense of wonder unfurling inside her.

  Nothing is ever going to be the same. I don’t want to live without him.

  The clear, concise thought caused dread to mingle with the wonder. Because of course she’d have to live without him. They lived on opposite sides of the country. They both planned to be back at the respective jobs by the New Year.

  He blinked, and suddenly she stared into his electric blue eyes in the mirror. He smiled crookedly. Inevitably, she smiled back, despite her despairing thoughts. That’s what she always did when she saw his smile. He loosened his taut hold on her.

  “Are you okay?” he murmured, stroking her shoulder and upper arm.

  “Never been better.”

  “You sure? I was going at you like a battering ram,” he mumbled.

  She considered for a moment. “I’m not really sure what a battering ram is. Are they sexy as hell?’

  He laughed, the sound warm and rough, running over her agitated nerves like a sweet balm. He kissed the back of her shoulder, a smile on his lips.

  “Thanks,” he said against her skin.

  “For what?”

  “For letting me do that.”

  He straightened. Their gazes met in the mirror. He started to say something, but seemed to change his mind. Instead, he lifted her off the vanity table as if she weighed nothing. Esme whimpered at the sensation of his still full cock sliding out of her. He set her feet on the floor and turned her in his arms.

  “It’s not like I didn’t enjoy it, too,” she said feelingly, staring up at him.

  He stroked her bare back and shoulders with both hands.

  “Jude?” she asked, confused by his preoccupied, tense expression. “What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head. She saw his throat convulse as he swallowed.