32
The Good Times Zone
TJ
It’s hard to think when Jude touches me, and I’m pretty sure he just asked me a question.
What do I want to talk about? I want both to talk and to stop all this talking. I want to rip off this mask and keep wearing it too.
I want to say Youmake me feel so good and I can’t even explain it. I can’t even rationalize it. Except, I picked champagne because that’s how I feel every time I’m with you.
Trouble is, I don’t know what Jude wants from me beyond his text earlier tonight—that he wants to get laid. I don’t truly know if he wants me the same way I want him.
But the last person in the world I want to experience an ounce of rejection with is Jude since he’s never hurt me, and I like it this way. We only ever make each other feel good.
That’s the zone I want to stay in. The good-times zone.
I keep things firmly centered on him when I glance at his empty champagne glass, then answer his question at last. “You. I want to talk about you. Do you want another drink?”
“Do you think I want another drink?” he counters.
I look at his hand on mine, and it’s proof. “No. I don’t think you do.”
“A drink isn’t what I came for, TJ.” He slides the pad of his thumb slowly, ever so slowly, between my thumb and forefinger. This should not be so erotic, but the burn in his eyes and the ownership in his touch heats me up.
I turn my hand over, curl my fingers through his, cataloging this moment, how it feels to touch him again. It feels incredible. “I didn’t come for a drink either. Want to get out of here?”
His smile is slow and dirty. “I thought you’d never ask.”
The hotel room is very Santa Monica. An orange wall. A teal-blue bedspread. A glass brick wall separating the bathroom from the rest.
But it’s too quiet, and that’s no good for setting the mood. I borrow a move from Hudson, the hero in Mister Benefits, who always had a playlist before sex.
“Let me put on some tunes.” I hit the playlist I made an hour ago, then set my phone on the desk. Like one of my heroes, I grab the collar of Jude’s shirt as a sexy number plays, but I don’t make a move yet to kiss him.
I want to take my time.
Savor every single second of the anticipation.
Let the years melt away in our gazes then drive him wild with my lips, and my—
Thump!
With a quickness I didn’t see coming, Jude’s grabbed my shoulders and slammed me against the wall. His hands spear into my hair, and he seals those lush lips to mine.
Yessss.
I just . . .
Wow . . .
His lips are feisty, and he kisses like he talks, playful and clever, darting his tongue into my mouth then tugging on my bottom lip—turning the tables on me with a kiss that makes my body feel like warm honey.
Everything in me just . . . glows.
I bathe in endorphins, splash around in the best feel-good drug anywhere.
Jude.
His fearless kisses are dizzying. His touch turns me inside out, from his hands in my hair to his tongue, teasing and toying and making me groan with desire. Making me forget how I planned to seduce him.
My heart hammers painfully from the utter rightness of our kiss. This is happening. The guy who got away is kissing me madly. He doesn’t even stop kissing to toe off his shoes. I kick mine off as I bite his bottom lip. He grabs my shirt and walks backward, keeping me in his grip as he regards me wickedly.
Holy fucking yes.
Jude is worth every sighting, every coffee shop photo, every annoying comment on Twitter.
When he pulls me onto the bed, it still feels like a dream, an escape into a world where nothing can go wrong. He falls back on the mattress with a grin, an invitation for me to climb on top of him. Bracing myself on my palms, I stare down at the face that can charm millions.
But the look in his eyes is for one person only. Me.
And I have to keep my cool. Be the hero of my own story. “Want to know why I ordered champagne?”
He bites the corner of his lips, and I shudder. Already, he’s got me by the balls. “Because you wanted to know how it tastes on my lips,” he whispers.
I blink. Swallow. Realize I didn’t even get to deliver the line because he saw right through me. He knew what was coming.
“Am I right, TJ?” he asks, running his tongue along his teeth.
“You’re right.” I nip his mouth. “And you’re doing that thing where you bite your lip. You love to toy with me. You always did.”
“I do—because getting you worked up is such a turn-on.”
“Everything about you is a turn-on,” I blurt. There’s nothing seductive in my voice now. Nothing sexy as I give up the plain truth.
He grabs my face and consumes my lips. Maybe I don’t need to play tonight like it’s a scene. The truth seems to spur him on.
We kiss harder, deeper, and with so much passion.
Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised at how natural this feels with him. But I am. Every touch is so real. Every touch reminds me of what I’ve been missing over the years—this connection. I’ve only ever had it with him.
As we trade kisses, my head feels lighter, my mind freer. The kiss downshifts as we take our time, our bodies rubbing together, my cock grinding against his through all these damn clothes.
Too many layers.
As we wrench apart, I gaze at my once and again English lover, then I groan as I drop my mouth to his collarbone. We come back together like we did in our flat in London. Scraping my beard over his skin, I whisper, “You feel so good. Want to get you naked, baby. Want to feel you against me.”
Jude’s hand snakes between us as he works open the button on my jeans. “Let me give you what you came for.”
You. I came for you.
But that’s not entirely true.
I’m here to feel good again for me. He’s the one person who can give me that. Jude and I, we have no hurt. We have no pain between us. We never split up; we never broke each other’s hearts. Distance ripped us apart, but never words, never deeds.
He can only be good to me. And I can be great to him.
Grabbing his waistband, I yank him up with me. Then I get busy getting busy, unbuttoning my shirt, jerking his off.
“Look at you,” I groan when I stare at his chest. His pecs are smooth, his muscles trim and lean. He’s toned for the camera, but not action-hero level, and that suits me just fine.
“Like what you see?” Jude sounds vulnerable, as if he truly needs my heartfelt yes. His tone reaches deep into my heart.
“I do. You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever known. Seen. Met.” He seems to bask in the compliment, to light up.
“Same. Same with you,” he murmurs, and I doubt that’s true, but I don’t care because he’s here, turning his spotlight on me.
In no time, our jeans are off, then I push down his boxer briefs, and his cock greets me.
My mouth waters.
It’s borderline embarrassing how much I want him. Maybe even a little crazy how attracted I am to this man. But then, I always have been, from the second I met him.
Jude stares at my hard-on. “Get. Your. Boxers. Off.”
I hook my thumbs into my boxer briefs and try to seduce him with a striptease like a guy in total control would. But once my clothes are off, I can’t maintain anything but this pure, true lust. I can’t pretend to be one of my heroes for a second longer.
I can only be me, the guy who wants Jude. The guy who needs Jude. When he returns to the duvet, I crawl over him, straddling him. But he shakes his head. “Get on your back. Now.”
Oh, hello. Commanding Jude is in the house.
With a smile and seven years’ worth of anticipation, I do as he requested. He settles between my legs, pushing my thighs apart. My breath comes in harsh pants, and I don’t even have time to think before his mouth is on me.
“Fuck yes.” He kisses my dick, and it’s pure indulgence. It’s better than any scene I’ve ever written.
I ache everywhere. More, more. I just want more, and he gives it to me, drawing me in, moaning and murmuring against my shaft.
His mouth is heaven, and I don’t want to leave. I slide one hand into his hair. The other coasts between his shoulder blades, pushing him deeper onto me. When he swallows my cock, I tremble from head to toe.
I can’t hold back. “Yes, yes, God, yes,” I groan.
Jude hums around my cock, his eyes locking with mine, looking so fucking filthy and satisfied, like this is all he wanted tonight.
For a few mind-bending minutes, he sucks and licks, and I am lost in the sensations. But when my balls tighten, I stop him, gently tugging him off.
“Together. I want to come together,” I say, and it’s the most honest thing I’ve said to him tonight.
If one weekend is all I get, I want to be close to him in the same way he’s close to me. He pops off, climbs up me, then drags his hand along his cock, squeezing out a drop. When he slides his thumb into my mouth, I unleash a carnal groan, then I crush my lips to his, tasting me on him, tasting him, the flavors of us colliding into a cocktail of lust.
I flip him over.
That’s how he likes it. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I clasp him hard, so we’re chest to chest, cock to cock. Electricity shoots down my spine. He thrusts his hips against me and our dicks rub together. Sex doesn’t always have to be one of us inside the other. This drove him wild, made him come harder than other ways. And so, I love it too, and I surrender to the feel of our bodies reunited.
There’s so much I’m dying to say. So many sentences forming in my head. This is soooo good. We could be so good together.
I can’t give my whole heart away, but we’ve always communicated well in bed. I can give that much. Open that far. “Can we fuck later? Right now, I want to finish like this,” I say, and it feels like serving him a piece of my soul.
Jude shudders, grabs my face. “You know the answer,” he says.
I reach for the lube I left on the nightstand, drizzle some into my palm. I rise on my knees, push his legs open, and grip his dick.
The second I touch him, he arches into my hand. “Yesssss,” he moans, thrusting into my fist.
He’s so sensual, so easy in his body. The way he gives in to pleasure is a thrill to experience. Jude turns his face to the side, bites his lip, and breathes out hard. He stays like that for a minute as I stroke him, savoring the feel of him in my hand again.
Then he pushes up on his elbows. “Get back on me,” he rasps, a sexy order.
I do as I’m told, and it feels so good as we grind and rub. But soon, lust crackles down my spine, my body warning me it’s go time.
I get a hand between us, reach for our dicks. Grasp, stroke, jerk.
He shakes his head. “My turn. I want to finish us off.” Jude swats my hand away, then works us together, his slick hand jerking us in tandem. Lust coils low in my stomach, a tight, hot knot. It gathers speed and intensity till my legs shake.
His hand flies between us. I am a ticking time bomb, and I’m going to detonate any second.
“TJ,” he growls. “I fucking want you so much.”
That’s it. That is all.
His words launch me into blissful oblivion, and I shoot all over his golden skin, groaning savagely, the world blinking off.
He’s right there with me, coming hard too.
When he lets go, I collapse onto him, our orgasms smearing together on our chests. All the evidence that past Jude and present Jude are here with me.
And maybe, just maybe, there’s a new future with Jude too.
It starts tonight, as we stay together in bed.
Only, in the morning, he’s on his phone, his eyes glued to the page.
What is he reading so intensely?
A glance at the screen gives me the answer.
He’s figured me out.