#i guess they only add a lil spice - the flavour is in the prose

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Chapter Twenty-Three (Part 3)

Tumblr hates nudity, so if you want all the pics go read this chapter on my blog

The house is in darkness when we arrive. Claire texted to let us know that she and Shane are going for some drinks in a bar and that we are welcome to join, but we don’t. We have other plans. 

I am fixated on Jude the moment we go inside, and we don’t turn on the lights because the moonlight is strong enough. I’m nervous, adrenaline pumping through my veins with the sudden solemnity of the occasion. We don’t do anything at first, we just stand in the kitchen looking at one another, and his face is hard to see, silhouetted by the window behind him. 

“My feet hurt,” I just want to have something to say, and for some reason that’s what I go with.

“Well take your shoes off.”

I bend down and unbuckle the thin straps, then straighten up holding onto them. 

He shifts slightly, leaning into the counter, “Do you want me to make us tea or something?”

“No thanks”

“Alright.”

My heart flutters in my chest and my palms prickle, but I try very hard to stay still and to seem confident even when my whole body wants to tremble. 

Jude’s expression is unreadable in the shadow, “I don’t want to take advantage of you, if you change your mind-”

“Well I want you to,” I say, and then, like a spell has broken, he crosses the room and kisses me fiercely, surprising me so much that my shoes drop to the terracotta tile with a hollow clatter. I fist my hands into his hair, and he winds his fingers into the back of mine too, overcome with intensity enough to squeeze a little too hard, “Ouch,” I whisper. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” 

He draws back and his eyes sweep over me, “Will you come to bed with me?”

“Okay,” I say and he threads his fingers with mine and squeezes them tightly. I find real comfort in the warm, steady solidity of his hand. I am safe, I am okay, I think, as he leads me up the stairs and into his bedroom. 

Jude turns on the lamp on his bedside table and then takes off his shoes and his socks. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do I as I stand by the door, suddenly forgetting how to act normally in such a scenario. 

He looks at me with amused intrigue, the way that I fidget with the straps of my dress, my hair, pull idly at a hangnail on my thumb. He comes to sit on the mattress across from me and his gaze travels over me slowly enough to have nerves and desire swirling in my belly. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I bite my nail. 

He gives me the kind of smile that would usually have me wanting to drag him onto the floor and out of his clothes, but I only felt that way at the times where we were kissing, and the kissing part was easy, I could be used to that part, good at it, even, but as I stand in the soft lamplight of this messy room all of the confidence I had at Aphrodite’s rock seems to evaporate. Suddenly the room feels too big and too silent, and even the crickets seem to have stopped chirping outside in the grass, and I wonder as I look at Jude if he’s feeling the same loneliness that I am, and if he feels like he’d die without me. 

“Evie,” He says gently, “C’mere, I want you.”

I transverse the metre of space between us and he lifts his hands to hold me waist. “I like this dress a lot,” He says as he flips me around so I am facing the door, “It’s really nice on you.”

“But what?” I feel a smile creep up as he finds the zip, “You were thinking it’d be even nicer off me?”

He laughs, “You stole my line.” I slip the straps off my shoulders for him and the fabric drops to the floor. “But it’s true, it is nicer off you.”

When he turns me around to him again I meet his warm brown eyes and find the most unguarded expression I’ve ever seen on his face. “Evie, you are absolutely shockingly beautiful, I’m so crazy about you.” I draw in a long breath and let it out slowly to try and control the surge of emotion that has come over me. “Thank you.”

I let him guide me onto his lap where he grips my hip and the back of my neck and pulls me against him to kiss me, a slow, thorough exploration as he takes control, hands exploring the exposed parts of my body. I press into him as he fills his palms with the soft flesh of my breasts through the lace of my bra, and I can feel what it’s doing to him. 

“You okay?” He murmurs, and I tell him yes, just as he puts me onto the bed and comes down on top of me. It’s all so exciting, the hands sinking into my hair, the lips on my neck, the feeling of his cotton trousers on my inner thighs, “You’re so hard,” I whisper with a thrill, and he lets out a chuckle against my throat that I feel vibrate all the way through my body, and maybe he’s laughing at how innocent I sound, but there’s nothing mocking about it. It’s comforting. 

“Yes,” He says.

I unbutton his shirt and flatten my hands over his tanned chest, flat, solid, “Because of me.” 

“Of course,” he gently tugs down the front of my knickers and all of a sudden he is there, fingers sliding through me. I let out a shallow moan as he captures my mouth again with his soft, warm lips. Pleasure arches through me and I practically tear his shirt from his shoulders to throw it somewhere, towards the end of the bed, maybe, who knows. “You remember what I showed you,” I say.

“Because I think about it several times a day,” he dips a finger shallowly into me and I sink down on his hand in search of more. “And it’s pure torture for me, just like it is when you’re in my bed and I know I can’t do all of the things I wish that I could.”

I reach out and touch the front of his trousers. I can’t help it, I’m curious, and I’m rewarded with a new expression that I’ve never seen before as he throws his neck back in surrender. “Okay, wait, wait,” he chuckles and knocks my hand away “Let me do you first.”

“You did me first the last time,” I point out, “And then you just went to sleep.”

“Mm, yes, I know,” he says, and he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my underwear and yanks them clean off. To my complete surprise he positions his head between my thighs instead of his hand. “Any preferences?” He asks while I gasp and immediately move my hand to cover myself. “I don’t know.” The warmth of his breath flutters against me, and the mattress squeaks as he leans in to kiss the backs of my fingers. “Nobody’s done this?”

“No.”

“I could be the first to show you?” I look down at him and think about how every woman swears it’s amazing, earth shattering, life changing, but my self-consciousness stopped me from asking for it before. It felt far too intimate, and the idea of a man eyeing me right in the vulva gave me the gick, but it’s Jude, he’s offering, and even the sensation of his breath on me is making my pulse skip. “Yes, alright,” I say, because what’s life without a bit of adventure?

He gently peels my fingers away and cups the backs of my knees to spread them wider, and when he kisses me there with slow intention I feel like I’ve just unlocked a secret understanding of something all women knew before now except for me. The feeling is indescribable. My eyes slam shut, and I fist one hand into his hair and the other onto the sheets as he cradles my hips as he flicks his tongue over me, and it almost feels too good, too intense, too consuming, and I doubt there’s ever been a time in my life that I’ve truly thought about nothing, worried about nothing and experienced only overwhelming pleasure. How have I lived without this for so long?

“Jude, that feels amazing,” I manage, and he responds with a self satisfied “Mm,” because he already knows that he’s turning me to syrup. I’d scold him for being arrogant, but I am too busy with my throaty little moans that words don’t come out. My insides coil tighter and tighter like a spring, my muscles lock, and I splinter into a million glittering fragments, realising only after a few moments that the soft sobs I am hearing are coming from me. 

“Evie,” Jude says, and he wraps his arms around me in a tight hug, stroking my hair as I bury my face in his neck. When my damp lashes hit his skin do I realise I am really crying. “That was so good.”

“Is that why you’re crying?”

I laugh and cling to him while my breathing slows, “It’s good crying,” all the while he strokes circles on my back and likely feels pleased with himself, still, I feel like he deserves some attention too. I cup my hand over the front of his trousers and enjoy the way his heart skips up while my ear is still pressed to his chest.

“That what you want to do?” He says. 

“You act so selfless, like it’s all about me. Let me do things to you too.”

His eyebrow quirks up, “Like what things?” he says, as though for some reason he wants to hear me saying them out loud. 

A shiver passes through me and I feel my face get hot as I wriggle away from him to sit facing him on the bed, “I want to touch you,” I say, “and I want you to…”

He raises his eyebrows expectantly. 

“Well obviously I want you to fuck me.”

His stomach sucks inward with a surprised breath, “Fuck you?” He echoes, “I didn’t expect you to use that word.”

“Which did you think I’d say? Make love?”

A laugh. “Maybe, yeah.”

“You don’t really seem like the kind of man who does that, though.”

“What,” he says with that smug smile again, and I know I’m only feeding his ego. He is delighted with himself. “So I seem like I fuck?”

“Yeah, I suppose. Is that alright that I’ve said that?”

“Yeah,” He leans in to kiss me, and with this new encouragement from him, the knowledge that he finds the things I am saying appealing, I tell him, “You can do whatever you want to me.” The look on his face is a bit insane after that. 

“That’s a pretty intensely sexy thing to say,” he says, trying to sound casual, and as though testing my boundaries he traces his thumb along my lower lip and gently slides it into my mouth. Without thinking I close my lips around it and he hisses through his teeth. He doesn’t tear his eyes away from me as he holds my chin, gliding his thumb experimentally against my tongue, grazing against my teeth, out to my lips and back in again. It’s weird, it’s strangely intimate and I like the things it does to him. When I imagine the things he might be thinking about me now, about how I am so beautiful and so sexy with such gorgeous lips and a smooth, wet mouth I start to feel very turned on again. The idea of his approval is the most appealing thing I can possibly imagine.  

A finger trails a long, lazy path down the centre of my throat and hooks into the front band of my bra. “Can we get rid of this?” He wonders. 

I quickly try to undo it, but I already feel like I’m beginning to come apart again. With frustration at my fumbling hands I wonder why I can’t do very simple things. Jude already has one hand on his belt, but he reaches the other behind my back to quickly unhook it for me. It springs open and I can’t help it, I start to snicker. “Clearly at least one of us has done that before.”

“Not me,” he says innocently, “I actually learned that from a YouTube video.”

“God, stop,” I roll my eyes, “Why do you do that act?”

His hands are back on his buckle. The leather hisses through the loops of his trousers, “What act?” It thuds to the floor. 

“Like you haven’t spent the whole of your teens and twenties having indiscriminate sex with a million eager women. I know you, you’re trying to be humble, but I know.”

“Not a million, a thousand, maybe. Does that make you feel better?” He works on the button and zip and begins pushing his trousers over his hips. My mouth goes dry. “How many, really?”

He glances at me and I realise that this is an annoying question for him, “I don’t care how many, I just care about how much I’d like to be doing it with you.”

I am still holding the cups of my bra to my breasts, but once he’s shaken his trousers from his ankles and onto the ground he reaches for it and throws it over his shoulder. All of a sudden I am completely naked in front of him, and the gravity of that fact has me drawing a deep, steadying breath. His eyes slide over me like a physical caress from my face all the way to my legs, lingering long enough on my breasts that I idly wonder if he’s a Boob Man. “Your body is incredible,” he says, which is the soft of thing that’s only sexy in an American accent, and he leans forward to kiss me onto the bed. 

With just the fabric of his boxers separating us I can feel everything as I rub myself up against him, and feel flushed with heat all over again as he grabs my hips and guides me to meet his shallow thrusts. 

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, to himself, maybe, or to me, and I am obsessed with this version of him, wild, unfettered, and I feel it too, the pulses of pleasure in my body have me teetering on the edge. Fresh desire crashes over me and a flame ignites inside my body. I hardly even know what I’m doing as I claw at him for more, then snake my hand between us to dip inside his boxers and touch him.

He exhales loudly and I wonder, as I wrap my hand around him, how we went from a lighthearted mood to this in a matter of minutes. I love him like this, with hot, eager breaths against my neck, hands clamped on my hips making those delicious sounds he made before, only last time in the dark where I could only imagine the beautiful blissful expressions on his face. This time I can watch them happen. It’s real. 

His control seems to falter as he kisses me again, hard, insistent, his tongue thrusting against mine, and suddenly he tears my hand away from him, “I can’t,” He pants, holding both my hands against the bed next to my head, “I won’t last like that, sorry, will you let me- can I-”

I tell him yes, because I know what he is asking me, and he is out of his boxers then, and my heart is thumping wildly at the brief sight of all of him and his intimidating length. It happens so quickly. He grasps my hip and pushes my knee wider, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Condom?”

“No, please, I-”

Then he is inside me, slowly, cautiously, as he checks my face for signs of discomfort.

“It feels really good,” I say, to myself or to reassure him, I’m not sure.

“Yeah,” he says, “It does.”

Once, I didn’t understand how people would say things like “it just happened,” as though they’d lost control of their roller skates on a hill while wearing no knickers and landed in his lap, or something. It seemed ridiculous because sex, to me, was something to be considered, agonised over, painstakingly led up to, talked over, but now I understand those impulsive girls because it has just happened to me. It is just happening, and the fact that it could just happen is obvious. This is a natural thing, we’re built to do this, and I, Evie, am especially built to do this with Jude.

I had fantasy once about how sleeping with him would be a spiritual experience, two gorgeous bodies joining together in the most unimaginably beautiful way, and perhaps there’d be soft music in my head, voile curtains undulating in a gentle breeze, and he would cradle me like I was precious and tell me I’m exquisite, but the reality isn’t remotely like that. It is more desperate, sweatier, noisier, more frantic, and still somehow infinitely better than the version I had envisioned. His breaths are ragged, sweat beads on his forehead, he holds on to me hard, kisses me hard, and when his voice cracks and his moan splinters in desperation it turns me on so much that my eyes roll back. I didn’t know that actually happened. I thought that was just something people said. 

It pulls me under like a wave. I cling to his shoulder, fist my hand in his hair, make sounds that I’d ordinarily be way too embarrassed to make but am too mindless to care about, and the headboard bangs against the wall, sweat-slicked skin meets sweat-slicked skin and Jude murmurs unintelligible things into my neck and every movement and adjustment feels a thousand times better than the last. When he tells me to touch myself because he is close I can feel that my eyes are wet again because this is visceral and perfect. We are meant to be together. And before I come in hard, violent bursts I think about how I was wrong for ever thinking anything should be different. 

Later on, in the quiet of the wee hours of the morning, after Claire and Shane have long come home and tucked themselves into bed, and when the tiniest glow of the sunrise peeks above the distant mountains I rest my head on Jude’s chest while he traces shapes along the line of my back. I have never been more tired in my life, and yet I’m afraid to sleep, because if I sleep it will be tomorrow and that will mean he’ll be leaving.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks me.

“Dublin,” I admit glumly, “Reality.”

“Evie, no.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Well maybe it’ll be nice to get back to your routine.”

“The idea of my boring routine kind of makes me sick, honestly,” I say. “How can I be expected to go back to that now?”

“Now that we’ve finally done it?” I know he is smiling without having to look at him, “You know I’m kind of thinking the same. Maybe we should have held off tearing each other’s clothes off, because now that I know what it’s like I don’t know how I’ll go without it. Honestly there’s nothing sexy about my final project either, the idea of being in that dead, white studio after being on this island…”

“I didn’t know sex could be like that. The second time when we-”

“Yeah I know,” He says, and bites his lip, “You know, I might have the energy for a third round.”

I glance up at him, “Are you joking?”

“Yeah for sure.”

I laugh sleepily, “We went four years without tearing off each other’s clothes though, we can manage another month.”

“Barely,” He adds, “The way I see it we actually have four years to make up for, so like, if we do it four times a day for the next year-”

“Four times a day?”

“More? We could condense it down to eight, nine months maybe if we do it maybe six times-”

“You’re winding me up,” I snuggle into his chest. “I didn’t think you were such a fiend.”

“I’m not usually, I think I’m just a bit freaked out about having to live the eunuch lifestyle for a whole month.”

“Highly dramatic language.”

“I’ll miss you!” 

“And I’ll miss you, but we’ll be fine, trust me.”

“If you say so.”

“I know so,” I say, “and I’ve been thinking about it, and actually, you and I are used to being apart, it’ll be easy for us, now-” I stifle a yawn, “Please, let’s try and go to sleep, we’ve to be up in about three hours.”

“Okay,” He whispers, “can I have one more kiss for the road?”

“Needy,” I say, but of course, I kiss him anyway. He makes it damn impossible not to.

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#lucky girl part 3 #tw: sex #sorry about the piccies! #i guess they only add a lil spice - the flavour is in the prose #use your imagination hehe