by Brynne Asher
Perfect. A perfection I’ve never felt. A perfection so flawless, I know for a fact nothing could ever come close to this. Ever.
I lift my hips for more contact but he moves slowly in and out of me.
“Jude, please.” It’s embarrassing, but I’m begging for him to move faster, harder. I need more.
“Hang on, baby, I want to feel you,” he rasps as I feel his lips on my ear.
I don’t know how it can happen again so soon, but it comes over me. As I start to breathe hard, I feel Jude’s hand come in between us and presses his thumb at my clit and he starts to move—really move. This one is quick but intense and even better with Jude moving inside me now, fast and hard.
Some remote part of my brain realizes he’s breathing heavy, holding himself up on his forearms so he doesn’t hurt my ribs and I pull my legs up as far as I can and I can feel him plant himself deep inside me once, again, again and the fourth time so deep, he stays there.
Balancing on one forearm as the other tucks under my back, he falls to the side, pulling me over, him on his back and me on top, yet still connected. He presses into me while pulling me down one more time, making me shiver, feeling it from where I’m still sensitive from my now second Jude induced orgasm.
We both lay here, me naked, my knees still hitched high against his sides, snuggled on top of him and I realize he still has his jeans on. Something about that feels sexy and intimate. I snuggle in, trying to get as close to him as I can with my face buried in his neck and he’s back to lightly stroking me from my neck to my ass, over and over.
“Sugar,” he turns his head slightly, his lips in my hair. “Are you ok? Did I hurt you?”
“Seriously, Jude,” I say without moving—I’m too relaxed. “How about this, if you hurt me, I’ll give you a code word. It’ll be ‘ouch’.”
His hands stop on my ass and his fingertips grip me lightly. Still hard, he presses his hips up into me and I gasp as he says, “You’re gonna be a smart ass when I’m still inside you, babe? For the first time, too?”
Still not moving a muscle, I reply, “Only if you keep asking me that.”
At my words, he knifes up at the waist, pulling me out of my post-first-time-sex-with-Jude-induced-coma, yanks my legs around, so I’m sitting astride him, doing all this while he’s still inside me. He puts one hand in my hair to hold my head and one to my ass holding me tightly impaled on top of him.
His melty eyes gaze intensely into mine. “Tell me you get me, Gabby. Tell me you get that this is where I want to be. Not just here,” he pulls me down on his still hard shaft, “but everywhere in your life. Tell me you get it now.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and into his hair. “I get you, Jude.”
We’re so close, I can tell he smiles big but I can only see it in his eyes.
“Thank you for trusting me Gabby,” he says and kisses me. “Do you want to go clean up?” he asks and I give him a small nod. “Okay. I’ll go pick up the kitchen, you go do your thing, but do not get dressed.”
My eyes go big but I don’t say anything.
“Come back to bed just like this. I’m not done with you yet. I’ve been sleeping next to your soft, sweet self for what seems like a year and I’m not close to having my fill, sugar. I’ve got plans for you.”
“Plans?”
“Yep.” His lips tip. Then, with a whole new look in his eyes, he lowers his voice. “I want a taste of you, baby. After what we just shared, I can’t go another day without it.”
I feel myself spasm around him where he’s still hard inside me. I can tell he felt it too because his eyes flare and he kisses me deep. His head barely pulls back and he gives me a soft swat on my ass. “Go clean up. Now.”
Wow. Super excited about his plans, I look into his melty eyes and with what feels like a naughty smile, I say, “Okay.”
He lifts me at my waist helping me up and I realize after the fact that if my ribs hurt, everything else he did to me felt so good, I didn’t even notice. Smiling at him over my shoulder, I skip off to the bathroom to clean myself up and secretively grab a robe while he cleans the kitchen.
Jude will just have to deal with it.
“I’m so sorry I haven’t been over to see you yet. I’m a terrible friend.”
It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m still under house arrest, but regardless of being under house arrest, I’ve stayed busy.
Workers have been in and out of my house for the last four days installing new baseboards, painting, and my new carpet was installed yesterday. I wouldn’t have had time to work with my clients even if I was allowed out of the house. I’ve been busy cleaning up after workers, organizing closets, moving stuff from room to room and basically getting the bottom half of my house back in order. I’m really lucky to get all of this done so quickly, but since I work with these contractors feeding them lots of business, they’ve fit me in, and I’m grateful.
The basement has been one thing but getting used to Jude being a part of my daily life is another. Not that it’s been a hard adjustment to have him here every night—it’s wonderful. In fact, I’m getting so used to it that I forget to worry about it being taken away from me and guarding myself. Even though the past two weeks have been insane, it hasn’t escaped me that all the happy amongst the crazy feels great and I’m getting so used to the happy that I’m losing the barriers I’ve built to protect myself over the last four years. I know it has everything to do with Jude.
But Jude is at work today, I think he has some new lead on Trevor. He’s really vague about the whole Trevor search, but I’ve been so busy with my basement, I haven’t been too much of a pain about it. However, now that my basement is practically finished and mostly in order, I plan on being hell on wheels this week to get back to my normal routine.
It’s been over a week since Trevor attacked and threatened me. I’ve been cooperative for Jude and my family’s sake, not to mention I was recuperating and busy with my basement. But now I’m feeling great, I’m even been back to running on the treadmill the last couple of days and barely feel my ribs at all. Everyone had better watch out, I’m not planning on being so cooperative with their demands this week.
Tony came over to hang out with me while Jude went to work this afternoon. He’s now getting high on paint fumes in the basement watching football since Leigh made a surprise visit. Even though the three of us were tight in high school, Tony gave Leigh a warm smile, but excused himself quickly. I guess Tony would rather breathe paint fumes than listen to girl talk.
“Leigh, please don’t worry. You called about half a million times, I’m just glad you’re feeling better. That must have been some dreadful stomach flu to throw you off for so many days. You are feeling better, right? You still look a little peaked,” I say, worried about my friend.
Leigh is striking, taller than me, five-nine with super longs legs. She’s got a great slender figure, much thinner than me but unlike me who has to run and eat salads to maintain my body, Leigh can eat like a linebacker but always looks like a supermodel with small curves that fit her perfectly. Her light blonde hair is long, past her bra strap with lots of layers for a flippy easy going style, but it always looks great even if she lets it air dry. She has high cheekbones, a petite nose, with flawless fair skin that doesn’t need makeup. But today her normally glowing complexion looks pale and her normally bright green eyes look lifeless and drab.
"Seriously, Leigh, are you sure it's not anything more than the stomach flu?"
Her lifeless eyes cast downward and to the side. "No, I'm good." Looking back up to me, she adds, "I've just been so worried about you. I cannot believe everything you've gone through with Trevor. Everyone always knew he was a creep, but this is crazy. Has Megan tried to call you anymore?"
Leigh, Megan, and I went to high school together, but Leigh and I have known one another since the third grade. "Yeah, she's called and left a ton of messages, which I haven’t returned because I promised everyone I wouldn’t talk to her. I gu
ess Lilly called and reamed her ass after Trevor got to me. Lilly said at first she denied it was Trevor and called me a liar but has since figured out that it's true. I mean, she doesn't even know where he is and their accounts have been frozen. I do feel sorry for her. I really doubt she knew Trevor was trafficking guns for cartel members, you know?"
Leigh laughs a little grunt. "Well, who knows, but my guess? She didn’t see the signs because she didn't want to. She was enjoying living her high-life too much to see what was right in front of her face."
"Enough about Megan.” This is getting depressing and I don’t feel like talking about her. “What else is going on with you? You still volunteering?"
"Yeah, I'm still at the hospital a couple days a week and at the food bank every once in a while when they need someone to fill in. Preston doesn’t like me volunteering there, but he doesn’t mind a couple days at the hospital and you know I like being there with the patients. I get to see people I used to work with from time to time.”
Preston Briggs is an Executive Vice President of a software development company. They met at the hospital where Leigh was working when he was there for a business meeting. He makes a ton of money so about a year after they were married, he told her he didn’t want her working anymore. Leigh was an ICU nurse and loved her job. He’s ten years older than Leigh and a pretentious ass. Preston was as nice as he had to be before they got married, but since then he’s become a cold, controlling husband to Leigh and I hate that for her.
She’s never had a good man in her life. Her dad was a deadbeat, leaving Leigh, her mom, and sister high and dry before I met her in the third grade. Although it was surprising to me she chose as she did for a husband, she’s changed over the last four years becoming a mere ghost of herself. Preston doesn’t let her get together with her friends, work at a job she loves, or even be who she is. But she’s my friend and I have to support her choices.
“I’m glad you still get to be at the hospital, Leigh. I know you love it there.”
She gazes over my shoulder out my back windows. Pulling in a breath, she puts an almost genuine smile on her face. “Yeah. But I want to know about you. Reagan told me about this man in your life. I want to know all about him. It’s been a long time for you, Gabby. Is this a good thing?”
I can’t help the feeling that passes through me as I think of Jude. “Yeah, it’s a good thing.”
“She told me all about him. Other than him being hot, like really hot with a great voice, she says he’s from Colorado. Does he still have family there?”
I think back to a couple nights ago when Jude took me to dinner. We were on our way back to my house when he says, “I’ve gotta make a stop, get some stuff for tomorrow, do you mind?”
“Sure, where are we going?”
“I’m just going to swing by my condo, grab a jacket, and some more clothes.”
I sit up at attention.
“I’m going to get to see your condo?” I ask, enthusiastically.
He grins over at me at. “Sugar, don’t get excited. There’s not much to see.”
“I don’t care. I get to see where you live. We haven’t exactly had a normal start to … well … whatever it is that we have. Plus, I’ve been locked up like a hermit crab and I haven’t seen your home. I’m so excited.”
“Gabby, it’s not a home, it’s a condo. And not a great one at that. There’s no need to get all worked up about it.”
“Whatever, Jude. You can’t stop me from being happy.”
Shaking his head, realizing he isn’t going to convince me this is not the monumental occasion it is, he makes one more turn into a parking lot that houses a row of not great condos.
Hmm, he really wasn’t kidding.
He throws his truck in park and looking over at me. “I told you.”
I grin, turn to my door, and as I’m getting out, I call, “Let’s get moving, I want to see inside.”
I move around to meet him at the hood of his truck. Seeing as he isn’t going to be able to rain on my parade, he rolls his eyes, takes my hand and pulls me to the door of the condo on the end. He opens the rickety screen door sticking a key in the handle, swings open the door and reaches in to flip on some lights before he puts a hand to my back, pushing me in.
Hmm, again.
It’s very plain.
I haven’t given a lot of thought as to what Jude’s home is like since he’s always in my home and I like him there. He has a newish sofa—one that you only buy for comfort and not because it’s pretty, as in at all. Sitting next to it is an old-ish recliner in dark brown, again, made for comfort rather than design. Both of these pieces are strategically placed for maximum viewing capacity of a too-large-for-the-space flat screen television that sits on an old coffee table pushed against the interior wall. Through the TV-slash-comfort-room, I see the kitchen, and off to the left is a tiny hall that probably houses a bathroom. To the right, is a narrow set of stairs going up.
“Sit down. I’ll grab my stuff and we’ll get going.”
My eyebrows go up and I exclaim, “Are you kidding me? No way, I want to see it all.”
I move around him to head up the stairs without an invitation. I hear Jude letting out a big sigh making his way up behind me. I get to the top and turn left to find three doors. Feeling like I’m on a treasure hunt—the treasures being glimpses into Jude’s condo life—I head into one and flip on the light. It’s a small room with a boat load of boxes. Some of them are open with stuff strewn on the floor around them. Apparently, he was looking for something and when he found it left the rest of the stuff where it fell. I walk into the room farther and lean over to pick up a famed picture. In it is a much younger Jude with another Jude-like person.
I look up and him. “Who’s this?”
“My brother.”
“Your brother?” I look down at the picture while keeping on, “How many siblings do you have?”
“Just Breck.”
“Breck?” I ask, looking for more clarification on anything and everything.
“Brecken, my brother. He’s three years younger than me.”
“Does he live in Colorado?”
“Yeah, outside of the Springs. He’s married, has a son.”
“Really? Uncle Jude?” I grin big at him as he keeps shaking his head at me. “You’re closed tight, Jude Ortiz, why do I not know this?”
“What do you want to know, Gabby?” He comes close to me, takes the frame, lightly tosses it on the dingy carpet and takes my hand pulling me out of the room. He turns off the light and heads into another door. There’s a queen size bed—super messy with sheets, pillows and blankets scattered everywhere, an old nightstand, dresser, and more boxes stacked along the walls.
Well, now I have to know everything. This man who is living at my house and I’m having a lot of sex with is a closed book—sealed tight.
Not wanting to seem desperate for information like I really am, I try my best to pull a Jude and change the subject. “You know you really can’t give me shit about my garage anymore. How long have you lived here? You should really finish unpacking.”
"I signed a one-year lease and you can tell this isn't a place I want to be for longer than a year. There was no reason to settle any more than I needed to." He digs through drawers, stuffing things into a gym bag.
I start walking around the room looking at stuff strewn everywhere. "Are your parents still in Denver?"
"My dad's still there. My parents divorced when I was in high school, my mom remarried about 10 years ago. She and her husband live in Sedona now."
“Huh,” I barely respond. “Are your parents Hispanic? Where does Ortiz come from?”
“My grandfather—dad’s dad—was Puerto Rican. But other than that, I’m a little bit of everything.”
I grin at him. "Well, what you are is tall, dark, and handsome with a lot of mysterious mixed in. Thank you, Jude. That was actually a wealth of information. Sorry your parents are divorced."
"It's o
kay. They're happier apart and they don’t have a problem being around each other. It's never been ugly or anything," he explains with a shrug.
"That's good." I sit down on his bed as he heads to his closet and I think about part-Puerto Rican Jude having a brother and divorced parents.
Shaking me out of my thoughts, he's standing in front of me holding his hand out and says quietly, "Let's go, sugar. I'm done."
Taking his hand, I let him pull me out of his room, all of a sudden sad that he’s lived here almost a year, out of boxes and not having a home.
Needing to know as much as I can find out, I give his hand a little squeeze and say tentatively, “Jude, you know all about me. I mean, you know it’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone else.” He stops and turns to gaze down at me with a guarded expression. “So … when was the last time you were with someone, you know, long term, or um, even serious?” I ask, stumbling over my words, praying it’s okay to ask about his past.
He stands there and looks down at me for quite a few beats. Giving my hand a good yank pulling me into him, his other arm goes around my waist and says with meaning, “A long time, Gabby. A really fucking long time.” He leans down and kisses me softly. Pulling back to look down at me he states, “Let’s go.”
There’s something about the way he answered with finality that doesn’t invite me to ask further. Taking my hand again, he leads me out of his not great condo and we head home.
I look back up at Leigh after finishing my story. “Even though he’s a little mysterious, I do know more than I did last week. He makes me really happy, though. It’s different than being with James, but it’s only been a couple weeks—even though it’s been a crazy couple of weeks. I’m just hoping it stays good, you know?”
Leigh looks at me intently. “Yeah, girlie, I know.”
Taking the opportunity, I make a point of my own. “You know I’m here for you, right? Anytime, if you need to talk or you need anything else. You’re not yourself anymore. I feel like I’ve lost a part of you.”
