Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
I don’t know much about champagne, but I know the year counts, and that’s over ten years old. “Jude, I’ve really had enough alcohol for one lunchtime.” I’ll be fit for nothing come this evening when I’m out with the girls.
“You’re not drinking it,” he says, watching his working hands as he pulls the foil off. “Take your trousers off.”
I stare at him, not that he would know. He’s quite engrossed in what he’s doing. I take in the glass wall. The wine cellar stretching as far as the eye can see. “Jude, I—”
“Take your trousers off,” he says again, this time looking at me. “Or they’re going to get wet, Amelia.”
Oh my fuck.
I pull down the zip on the side and let them drop to the floor, stepping out of them.
“And your camisole.” His smirk is dark but oddly playful. “And your bra.”
God help me.
“And your knickers,” he adds, resting the bottle on the table, casual, waiting. He tilts his head expectantly.
He will. He’ll be the death of me.
Compliant, I do as he’s bid and strip until I’m naked, heels on, my skin an arousing mix of cool and flaming hot.
“Come here.”
I pace to him, anticipation swirling, and he pushes his palm in between my breasts, forcing me back to the table. I lower my arse, my eyes on his, my hands wedged into the wood behind me, and wait for what comes next. Jude steps back, twisting the metal on the side of the bottle until the caging comes off. Then he pops the cork, and I jump at the sound, just before champagne bursts from the lip. All over my chest. I inhale sharply, stiffening from head to toe as a river of bubbly, insanely expensive liquid streams down my torso and straight between my thighs. My mouth opens on a gasp, I fall to my back, and Jude wastes no time taking my ankles. I don’t have a moment to brace myself.
His mouth meets my pulsing, begging, wet flesh, and the heat mixed with the chilliness of the liquid sends me through the roof. “Fuck!” I yell, my body snapping violently into an arch. My hands fall to his head, tug at his hair, as he feasts on me hungrily, sucking on my clit, biting at my lips, plunging his tongue into me. “Jude.” The pressure is building already, my body rolling, the scratch of his scruff on my tender flesh sore but wonderful. I look down at his head between my legs, out of my damn mind on him and his devilish ways. My heart beating erratically, I close my eyes and rest my head back on the table, my toes pointing in my heels, my legs squirming around him. “Oh God,” I pant, pushing into the back of his head. “Jude,” I say again, warning him. “Jude, I’m coming.” My words seem to egg him on, the sounds he’s making pure indulgence. “Jesus, Jude.” He bites my clit, then sucks it hard, and blood rushes to my head, my body goes up in flames, and my climax bursts out of me on a scream of his name. “Jude!” I come undone, pleasure racking me, having me jerking on the table under his mouth. The room starts to spin, my lungs shrink, the spasms so strong they’re lifting me off the wood. I can’t see straight. My poor heart is screaming for relief as I’m held prisoner to the pleasure of his mouth sucking my orgasm out of me. “Oh, fucking hell.” I exhale the words, loosening my hold of his hair, certain I’ve pulled tufts out.
Jude slows his assault, dragging his tongue up my centre to my stomach. Finding the strength to lift my head, I peek down at him lapping up the sparkly liquid from my stomach, humming his pleasure. I drop back down to the table on a sigh, letting my arms fall over my head. The brick ceiling stretched above blurs as my eyes close and Jude takes his time licking me clean.
“Recovered?” he whispers in my ear when he makes it there. I only have the energy to shake my head. My jaw is taken in his grip, directing my face to his. His eyes are the darkest green. “On your front.” He takes my hips and encourages me over. “You’d better hold on.” He guides my hands to the edge of the table, and the sound of his trousers hitting the floor has me tensing again. He takes a fistful of my hair, pulling my head back, the crown of his weeping cock pushing at my entrance. “Ready?”
For Jude Harrison? Never.
I grip the edge of the table hard and stare forward, down the dimly lit tunnel. “Ready,” I whisper, crying out when he pounds into me and holds himself deep, letting me mould around him. He’s done with foreplay. He’s got me soaked. It’s his turn.