Dirty Like Jude: A Dirty Rockstar Romance (Dirty, Book 5)

by Jaine Diamond

  “Summer when I was twelve. I had this sixteen-year-old neighbor who thought he was all that. You know how it goes.” I shrugged. “I had a good butt for a twelve-year-old.”

  His smile faded. He said nothing about the neighbor thing. “Just when I thought I’d actually figured you out.”

  “I guess you thought wrong.”

  He stared at me.

  I smiled, and his gaze dropped to my lips.

  “I wouldn’t wanna feel that right hook…”

  “You probably won’t,” I admitted.

  His eyes met mine again. They twitched, and I knew I’d thrown him for a loop. “You playin’ games with me, V?”

  “What kind of game?”

  “Like the one where you pretend you don’t like me, but you do.”

  “I like you. I wouldn’t be here in your smelly boys’ apartment if I didn’t like you.”

  Now it was his turn to smile. “I thought the key lime pie scent was really helpin’ things along.”

  “The candles smell nice,” I agreed. “You smell better.”

  His eyes flared.

  Yeah. I had game.

  He stared at me for a long, long moment. “Why can’t I figure you out?”

  “What’s to figure? I thought you had me and my pants all locked down.”

  “Yeah, well. I like to think I know a little about everything and a lot about women, but sometimes that’s the furthest thing from the truth.”

  Well. I liked that.

  I little humility in a guy was sexy. Jude was definitely all that, but he was humble about it. Thing about him was, I didn’t think he really believed he was all that.

  But he was all that and then some.

  “I’m not that mysterious, Jude.”

  “Says who?”

  “Try,” I said.

  “Try what?”

  “Try to get in my pants. See what happens.” Then I stretched my legs out in front of me, giving him access to my jeans if he wanted it.

  He watched the motion, his gaze moving down my body. When he met my eyes again, he asked me, “You want me to?”

  Damn. How sweet was he?

  “Yeah, Jude. I want you to.”

  He started to move, finally, but he didn’t go for my jeans. Not exactly. He put his hands on my knees as he went down on his knees on the floor, right in front of me, and spread my legs wide. He knelt right in-between my knees and took my hands, drawing me toward him until I was sitting up straight.

  Then he peeled my shirt off over my head and tossed it aside. He looked at my bra; at my boobs kind of spilling out of the push-up cups. Then he reached out and unhooked the front closure, peeled the bra open and down my arms.

  My nipples hardened and my breath caught in my throat as he looked at me.

  He gathered up my breasts in his hands, and the warmth of his touch spread right through my body. I arched into him. He smoothed his thumbs over the hard peaks of my nipples and I shivered; a shiver of lust and want, as my pulse thudded through my body and heat gathered between my legs.

  I watched his face as he touched me, the pure lust in his dark eyes. There was an unmistakable hunger there, a rising need, but the way he looked at me… his gaze was almost worshipful.

  Had any guy ever looked at my body quite like that?

  Then he leaned in and flicked his tongue over one nipple, softly, and I just about died.

  “Oh my God,” I gasped, pushing on him a bit to hold him off, to stop him from doing that again. “Jude. Please tell me you’re gonna do me tonight, because I don’t think I can handle the torture if you don’t. If you’re just gonna do that weird thing you do…”

  He was looking up into my eyes. “What weird thing?”

  “That thing where you stare at me from across the room like you want to fuck me, and then you don’t. That thing where you don’t let me near you.”

  He stared at me for a few hot seconds as my heart pounded in my chest.

  Then he slid a hand around the back of my neck and pulled me closer, and he kissed me. His tongue delved into my mouth and for once, I knew this kiss wasn’t going to abruptly end and the both of us go our separate ways.

  So I kissed him back, with all the hunger I’d felt for him for way too long.

  As he kissed me, he crawled up over me. He moved over me like a beast on the prowl, and I fell back on the futon beneath him. He ripped his mouth from mine and kissed his way down my neck to my breasts. He cupped them, one, then the other, lifting them to his mouth so he could wrap his tongue around my nipple, nibble, suckle, and generally drive me fucking crazy.

  Every time his tongue touched my skin, my entire body throbbed.

  Then suddenly he pulled back.

  “Shit. Darlin’. Just a minute…” He untangled himself and got up. “I don’t want anyone walkin’ in on this.”

  Gah. Sweet. He was so, so sweet.

  I watched him cross the room to the front door, open it and then close it again.

  “What did you do?” I asked as he returned.

  “Hung the ‘No Dogs’ sign on the doorknob,” he muttered, like he was embarrassed. “It’s our code for Fuck off and come back in half an hour.”

  “Half an hour?” I teased. “We’d better get busy.”

  He practically dove on top of me. We started making out again and I plastered my body against his. He drove one thigh between my legs and hiked it up tight, putting pressure on my clit and pushing me higher up the bed. He rocked his hips into me as he kissed me, until I made a very unsexy little squawking sound.

  “Ouch! My hair’s caught in the arm thing,” I said.

  He helped me free my hair from the arm rest of the futon.

  “I’m sorry this is so fuckin’ ghetto.”

  “It’s fine…”

  “You deserve something better.”

  “I’m not a princess,” I told him. “I’d do it with you in the dirt.”

  His eyes met mine and something darkened, deepened between us. Either the comment about the dirt had given him certainty that I wanted this, or it turned him on so much that he forgot to worry about it, and he kissed me, harder. Together, we managed to peel off his shirt. He shucked off my jeans and started kissing his way up my body. He devoured my nipples and sucked on my breasts until I was panting in heat.

  I tried to get his jeans open, I really did, but he was tall. His body went on forever and a day, and every time I’d managed to get a hold of his zipper, he shifted his hips out of my reach.

  Then he grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head with one hand like it was nothing at all, while I wriggled under him, useless, squirming in reaction to his kisses.

  “Please,” I eventually begged him, “take your dick out. I wanna touch you.”

  He looked at me and grinned a bit. Then he let go of my wrists and kneeled up over me, slowly, and he took out his dick.

  And all I could think as I watched him do it was Holy shit.

  I didn’t care what some of my girlfriends said about cocks looking weird. Those girls were wrong. Or maybe they’d just never seen Jude’s cock. Because if they’d seen his, they obviously would’ve understood that the male sex organ was a thing of beauty.

  It was hard in his hand and, just like the rest of him, it was big and gorgeous.

  And just like the rest of him, I wanted it all over me.

  He stroked himself a little, running his hand slowly up and down his shaft as he gazed down at me, all abs and flexing muscles and tattoos. His jeans were still on, but kind of down around his hips, and it was hands-down the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

  “How do you want it?” he asked me, his voice, like his eyes, kind of dazed and sex-hazed.

  I answered by asking him right back, “How do you want it?"

  “I could kiss you all night,” he said, still stroking himself.

  I groaned. “You like torturing me.”

  “That could be fun,” he said. “But I’d rather make you come. You want that?
”

  “I don’t really think I have a choice,” I said, swallowing. Because I really didn’t think I could resist coming with this man on top of me, no matter what he was doing.

  “Mmm.” He lowered himself over me again and for the next God-knew-how-long he did torture me—with his mouth and his hands, his teeth and his tongue. He peeled off my panties and kissed, licked and sucked on every fucking place on my body—except my pussy.

  It was almost getting to the point where in the back of my mind I started to wonder if there was a problem. Like, was he one of those weird guys who didn’t like to go down? Because if so, I was gonna have to remedy that somehow. After enduring the full-body tongue bath, I wanted his face between my legs so bad I could’ve screamed.

  I was already screaming softly, into his mouth, as he worked his fingers between my legs… then gradually slid a couple of them into me. He worked me like a man who was very comfortable with the female body. And I always kept myself neat and tidy down below. So what was the problem?

  “Jude,” I gasped when he broke our kiss to feast on my breasts, again, “can you please go down on me? Just for a second? I’m like aching here. Or at least put your dick in my mouth. You’re fucking killing me.”

  He chuckled a bit and bit down on my nipple lightly, before dragging his beautiful lips up my chest and kissing me again. “Sweetheart,” he whispered against my lips, “I go down on that sweet pussy you’ve got and I’m gonna come in my pants.” It must’ve been a figure of speech, since his dick was already out of his pants, but I got his meaning; his fingers were still inside me and he undulated them around as he spoke.

  I cried out. “Fuck. Okay. Then take your stupid pants off already.”

  He laughed.

  “Are you on drugs or something? How do you have so much patience?” Seriously, I didn’t think I’d ever made out with a guy half as long as this before he blew his load.

  “Told you,” he said, as he slipped his fingers out of me and finally kicked off his jeans, “I could kiss you all night.”

  He crawled up over me again. It was probably one of the sweetest things a guy had ever said to me, but I was still squirming with impatience. “Do you want me to beg?” I ran my hands down his stomach and grabbed his cock, just gently, and stroked him as I spoke, loving the way it made his eyelids lower and his breathing get heavier. I giggled from the strange tension. I really wasn’t used to this brand of sexual tension with a guy. “Because I will beg…”

  “No,” he said, sliding his fingers into me again. “I don’t want you to beg, V.”

  Then he started fucking me with his fingers, for real, and I almost went right over the edge. I dug my heels into the futon and squirmed up and away from his hand, alleviating the pressure of his thumb or his knuckle or whatever the fuck was bearing down on my clit.

  “Put on a condom,” I ordered him. “Right now.”

  So he got up and found one, and when he came back to me, he rolled it on. I watched, mesmerized by all his sexiness, just kinda grounding myself in the moment. The fact that I was here, on Jude’s bed, and we were about to be together for the first time.

  He spread my thighs around his hips, and he was pretty gentle about actually putting it in. I was super wet, but he was big, and those first few seconds when he pushed into me were a blend of pleasure and discomfort. He took it slow, easing in, until I smacked him on the ass. “You won’t break me.”

  He grabbed my wrists and pinned them down above my head again. Then he shoved in farther, making me gasp. “This what you want?” he asked, his dark eyes on mine.

  “Yeah. That’s what I want…”

  But once he was in me, the torture didn’t lessen.

  It just got worse.

  He fucked me so fucking slow. Deep but slow, holding my arms pinned above my head, his hips churning slowly between my thighs, his weight pressing me down.

  “That good for you?” he asked me, when he’d hit a steady, deep rhythm.

  “Yeah,” I breathed. “Yeah, Jude, it’s good for me.”

  All the while he kept looking at me. He studied me, locked onto my reactions. While he did that, he also kissed me. He dragged his lips over mine. He nipped my ear with his teeth. He sucked on my neck.

  And all the while, he had me right on the edge. My entire body was a whirlpool of ecstasy. My orgasm swirled in the dark, threatening to take me under.

  But it never did.

  I pushed up against him, meeting his thrusts, but he just kept at me in such a slow rhythm… if he didn’t speed up or increase the pressure… I didn’t think I’d be able to get there.

  Torture.

  “I thought you said… you were gonna make me come…” I panted after a while.

  “I will,” he said. “When I want to.”

  Holy fuck.

  “In the meantime…” he murmured between kisses, “how about you just take what I give.”

  So I lay there and took it as his beautiful body worked against mine.

  I’d never been one to do this during sex. Just lie back and let the guy take charge, take over, dominate me. My very first time ever, yes, I’d been pretty passive; I was super nervous, it kinda hurt, and I didn’t know exactly what to expect. But by the second time, I’d pretty much figured it out.

  I’d figured out the power I had over men.

  Over their dicks, anyway.

  But with him…

  I felt a different kind of power. Not in taking control, but in lying back and feeling him moving over me, waiting to see and feel everything he wanted to do to my body… and just giving him permission to do it.

  I was much more used to racing to the finish line, trying to make a guy come first because it thrilled me how excited I could get them. I’d found that most guys cared about getting me off, even if I got them off first; even if they didn’t care all that much about me, their ego cared about getting me to the finish line, too.

  With Jude, it wasn’t a race.

  With Jude, I kinda wanted it to last all night and day.

  Even if it was killing me.

  Shivers ran all over my body as he fucked me. His skin was the color of peanut butter in the glow of the candlelight. I wanted to lick him all over, but he really wasn’t letting me.

  By the time he finally started picking up the pace, breathing harder, fucking me harder, I was so ready to come apart, all he had to do was look at me and say, “Yeah, darlin’? You wanna come on that dick?”

  I was pretty much hyperventilating by that point, and I took his words as an invitation to grind my hips against his and bear down on his cock with everything I had. When I did that, he pounded into me, hard, a few times—which totally threw me over. I screamed and gasped and writhed around. He went still, his dick pressed deep inside me. My pussy fluttered all over him and my head spun.

  I’d never had a guy make me come so fucking hard.

  “Yeah, V,” he breathed above me. I felt his hand tighten on my wrists as he held them above my head. He groaned and shoved into me a couple of times, and I felt his release. I felt his cock spasm and I felt him let go… really let go for the first time all night.

  Then he groaned again and slumped against me, his hands loosening on my wrists.

  As he caught his breath, I tuned in to all the sensations I hadn’t noticed before. The sweat all over his body, making him slippery against me. His heartbeat, thudding hard beneath the surface of his soft skin. The softness of his hair as he pressed his face into my neck and kissed me again.

  He rolled off me, kind of, but there was barely anywhere for him to go. He lay on his side, right up against me, his legs tangled up with mine. He draped his heavy arm across my stomach, lay his head against mine and sighed.

  And I probably could’ve died happy.

  I’d waited for him for a long, long time. In my eighteen-year-old mind, it felt like I’d waited for him forever.

  And he was so, so worth the wait.

  That night, he made me feel li
ke the only woman in the world. The only woman who’d ever mattered to him.

  For the first time in my life, I knew I was in love. In that moment, I had no doubt. If Jude Grayson had asked me right then, Will you marry me, darlin’? I would’ve literally screamed with joy and told him HELLS TO THE YES.

  But I was young.

  I thought I knew a lot more about men, and the world in general, than I did.

  And apparently, I thought he felt a lot more for me than he did.

  Afterwards, he drove me home on his bike and kissed me goodnight.

  And I waited for him to call me. I really thought he would call.

  The next day. Or the day after that.

  So I waited.

  And I waited.

  I waited for him, but he never called.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jude

  The way I saw it, Roni Webber wasn’t necessarily a flowers type of girl. But she was definitely a grand gestures type of girl. And when I walked into the girly, frilly teahouse where she was having lunch with Jessa, Katie, and Katie’s best friend, Devi, carrying a giant bouquet of lilies and roses and whatever other shit the florist threw in there, it was definitely a grand gesture.

  Especially for a woman I wasn’t even in a relationship with.

  I knew I had to make up for missing our date last night. I wasn’t brushing Roni off, but who knew what the fuck she might be thinking right now.

  After the business at the dump, I’d ended up crashing at Con’s overnight. Drove back into the city this morning and picked up my car. I’d texted Roni on my way to Jesse’s, but I knew that wasn’t gonna cut it. She hadn’t even texted me back.

  Bane told me where to find her, so as soon as the band was settled at the studio and I could take off for a bit, I showed up where she was, flowers in hand.

  Turned out I was the only man in the room, and I was still wearing my Kings cut. Which, in retrospect, I maybe should’ve left in the car. It was so second nature to me, I sometimes forgot I was wearing it, but the world never let me forget.

  As I walked through the room, between the little tables with the fancy tablecloths and all the girly tea cups and tiny sandwiches and whatever, the way every woman in the place looked at me… eyes widening as they looked me over—or tried not to—I couldn’t even say for sure if they were terrified or turned on.