Ch.33: Save It For When You Get Home

As soon as I emerged into the main room, I spotted Meagan, sitting in a booth at the back with China, eagerly waving at me – no, not waving. Beckoning.

I hesitated. She sat with five other people – China I knew by face, and I recognised one woman from the party but couldn't recall her name – and with my nerves so raw, I wasn't sure I wanted to squish into a booth with a bunch of people I didn't know.

The alternative was going back to my little table at the front, all by myself. A fresh drink sat there, waiting for me, and I shuddered. I'd thought I was being paranoid before, but after what had just happened, I wasn't touching any drink if I didn't know exactly where it had come from.

Meagan beckoned me again, and I scurried over to her table.

On stage, Jude hadn't even noticed I'd gone. His eyes were closed, his hands clasped around the microphone, his hips moving slightly in a way that normally would have mesmerised me. Now I couldn't look at him for more than a second or two. My eyes flitted nervously around the room.

One of the men in this room had stood silently outside my cubicle, and I didn't have a clue which one or why he'd done it.

Meagan nudged me and I realised she'd just introduced me to everyone while I hadn't been paying attention.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

Meagan winked. "No problem. I can see why you're distracted." Her eyes slid to Jude.

I didn't correct her.

Three men were in this booth – for all I knew, one of them could have been the man in the bathroom. I couldn't see their shoes under the table.

"Champagne?" Meagan asked, lifting a bottle from the ice bucket in the middle of the table.

My immediate response was to refuse, but a little ray of common sense cut through the lingering haze of fear. Everyone at the table was drinking from the same bottle, so even if the man from the bathroom was here, he couldn't do anything to my drink.

"Thanks," I said.

Meagan filled a glass and handed it to me.

I only meant to sip it, but the minute the bubbles touched my tongue, I needed the liquid courage to bolster my nerves. I downed the glass and refilled it, then downed that too.

It wasn't until my hands stopped trembling that I acknowledged the word that I hadn't wanted to think about.

Stalker.

The stalker had trashed my underwear and left that message on Jude's mirror.

The stalker had stolen my pink panties and hung them inside that cubicle.

The stalker had been the one standing outside that door in those black biker boots.

So much for Elle insisting it was more likely to be a woman.

Darrell?

Jude had said it couldn't be, but did he really know for sure? He'd trusted Darrell once, but that was years ago, before Darrell's descent into blackmail and addiction. He wasn't the man he'd been, and I wasn't sure that Jude had fully accepted that.

That meant he couldn't be fully impartial where Darrell was concerned.

What shoes had Darrell worn the night of the party?

I couldn't remember.

I swallowed another glass of champagne without even tasting it.

If Darrell was behind this, then surely someone would have seen him tonight. His beef with Jude was well known – there was no way he could have come here without someone spotting him and gossiping about it.

But did that mean that Darrell wasn't connected?

Or was he smart enough to send someone else to do his dirty work?

I had no fucking clue.

***

I didn't say anything to Jude when he came off the little stage. The atmosphere in Rush was nothing compared to the Hyde Park gig, but he was still high from the performance, buzzing with electricity, and as he made his way over to our table, people crowded around him, congratulating him on his set, asking for autographs and photos.

I wanted to fling myself into his arms; instead, I hung back.

Jude would be pissed when he found out I'd kept this from him, but I couldn't forget the way he'd looked last night on the roof, sad and lost and young, a moment of vulnerability that I knew he wouldn't show to many people.

All that was hidden away now, buried beneath his rockstar glow, and despite the absolute terror I'd felt in that bathroom, I couldn't bring myself to ruin Jude's moment of happiness.

Besides, what could he do?

Even if Darrell was responsible, he clearly wasn't in the club now. If I brought him up, Jude would probably go after him and get another bottle thrown at his head.

There was nothing anyone could do about it now, so telling Jude, rather than now, wouldn't make any difference. And I would tell him later.

Jude finally reached our table, and Meagan saluted him with her champagne glass, but his eyes were only for me. He took my hand, helped me out of the booth, and wrapped his arms around me, and finally that tight, anxious knot in my chest loosened.

Nothing could change what happened, but I felt safer in Jude's arms, like nothing could hurt me as long as I was with him.

"Are you okay?" Jude murmured.

"Yeah," I said, because in that moment, I was.

***

We stayed until the club shut at 2 a.m., by which point Meagan had talked me into enough tequila shots that I'd managed to push the bathroom incident to the back of my mind, and when she suggested taking the party back to the loft, it seemed like the best idea in the world.

But Jude shook his head. "Not this time," he said.

"Why not?" I pouted.

Jude lowered his head until his lips brushed the curve of my ear and his curls tickled the side of my face. "Because I've been watching you shake your ass in those tight little jeans all night, and now I need to get you home and fuck you until you can't walk."

Heat rushed through me. "Okay, that's a good reason," I said.

Jude grinned. "I thought so."

We slipped out of the club without saying goodbye to anyone, and scrambled into the nearest taxi. The door had barely closed behind me when Jude was pulling me into his lap, his mouth eagerly finding mine. He tasted like smooth whisky, and the erotic slide of his tongue against mine made me press myself hard against him, rocking my hips over his growing erection.

The driver cleared his throat. "Save it for when you get home, kids," he said.

I expected Jude to throw money at him like he'd done the first time we met, back in Vegas, but instead he sighed and slid me off his lap and into the seat beside him.

"Better?" he said.

The driver nodded and started the engine.

It seemed to take forever to get to the loft. Jude's hand stayed on my leg, his fingers restlessly moving back and forth, close to my inner thigh, and even that light touch made me squirm. I knew exactly what those clever fingers could do.

Finally, the taxi pulled up outside the building, and Jude practically dragged me out of the car, through the lobby, and into the lift. The doors slid shut, and Jude pushed me against the wall, one hand on my hip to hold me in place while he fiercely kissed me.

His teeth nipped at my lower lip, and the overwhelming presence of him, pressing against me, surrounding me, made my head spin.

I hooked one leg around his hips, yanking him harder against me, and Jude promptly slid his hands under my butt and lifted me. He kissed my jaw, my throat, dipped his tongue into the hollows of my collar-bones, and the gentle friction of his unshaven skin against mine made me shudder.

The lift doors slid open, and Jude strode into the hall, still carrying me. At our front door, he paused, shifting my weight so he was holding me with one arm while he fumbled in his pocket for the key. I locked my arms around his neck and pressed my face into his shoulder, breathing in the smell of his clothes, feeling the warmth of his skin.

"Fuck," Jude muttered, fiddling with the lock, then the door swung open.

His booted feet were loud on the board floor as he carried me through the living space and around the corner to our bedroom. He kicked open the door, and as he lowered me onto the bed, I clung to his neck and pulled him down with me.

Jude grabbed my wrists and pinned them over my head with one hand. His tiger tattoo flexed along his biceps. He was almost too heavy, his body stretched out on top of me, but I loved the weight of it, loved the hard jut of him between my thighs, loved his absolute maleness.

He pushed up the silk tank top that Elle had given me, lowered his mouth to my left breast and gently sucked my nipple through my lace bra. The breath rushed out of me in a soft moan. The pull of Jude's lips, the friction of wet lace against my sensitised skin, was so good it was almost unbearable. Heat rolled through me, pooling at my core, and I tried to close my legs, as if that would stop the building storm of sensation, but Jude's hips were wedged firmly between my thighs. I couldn't move.

Jude moved to my other nipple, sucking it through my bra until I was writhing beneath him, pushing my hips up, silently pleading for more. He raised his head and gave me a smile that was pure sin.

"Jude," I whispered.

He lowered his head again, and took my nipple back into his mouth. The damp lace had grown cold and the sudden heat of his tongue made me whimper.

"Tell me how much you want me," Jude said, his voice low and husky.

His fingers trailed down my body and undid the top button on my jeans.

"So much," I gasped. "So fucking much."

Jude finally let my wrists go and shifted position, moving further down so he could kiss my hip-bones. He tugged down my jeans and panties, and settled between my legs, his gaze heated, intense.

"I think this is how I like you best," he said. "Spread out and waiting for me."

I trembled. The memory of the last time he'd had his tongue between my legs was deliciously seared into my brain.

I waited for the heated slide of that amazing tongue; instead he kissed me, his lips gentle against the most sensitive part of me, and the breath caught in my throat – more at the intimacy of it than anything else. There was something reverent about the way he kissed me there, like he was expressing something that wasn't just about sex.

Then he pushed my thighs further apart with his elbows and licked me, a long, lingering swipe of his tongue that made the muscles in my legs clench. "You remember the last time I did this?" he whispered, his breath warm against my wet skin.

"Yes," I whimpered.

"You remember coming on my tongue?"

"Yes."

Jude licked me again, and the breath rushed out of my lungs. God, it felt so fucking good.

"You want to come like that again?" Jude said.

"Yes."

There was nothing gentle about his mouth now. He devoured me, his tongue lashing like sweet fire before delving deep inside, fucking me, until ragged cries fell from my throat, and my hands clawed at the bedsheets, his hair, the headboard. My whole body shook, my legs drawn tight as wire, as the wave inside me built higher and higher and higher, until it finally broke and I came so hard that the entire world blanked out.

Slowly, I came back to reality to the sensation of being pulled down the bed, and I dazedly opened my eyes. I felt drunk and out of it, like I was floating on a cloud, and raising my head was an effort, but I managed it. Jude was dragging me to the edge of the bed, his eyes dark and hungry. His forearms were hooked under my knees, his biceps bunching and making his tattoos come alive, and I wanted to run my fingers over him, but I couldn't seem to move.

Jude draped my legs over his shoulders, his hands tight on my thighs, and my whole body still tingled with delicious aftershocks, so when I felt the head of his cock press against me, I couldn't hold back a whimper.

He pushed in, inch by inch, and from this angle he felt a mile long. I whimpered again. Jude pulled back, slowly, inch by inch again, and the sensation was exquisite, making my eyes roll in my head, then Jude made a noise like a growl, and slammed back in, hard.

He lifted my hips half-off the bed, surging fiercely into me, and I'd never felt him so deep before, never felt that I couldn't tell where I ended and he began. My whole body jolted on the bed with each powerful thrust, and there was a high-pitched keening noise in the room that I didn't immediately realise was coming from me.

Jude's breathing was hoarse, his curls falling around his face, his eyes fixed downward, watching his cock disappear into me over and over again. He looked fucking primal, and I loved it.

That wave was building again, deep at my core, and I squeezed my eyes shut, because this was too much, I couldn't take it.

"Come for me," Jude gasped, and as he plunged into me again, I broke apart with a desperate, ragged scream. I was shaking, tears in my eyes, only vaguely aware when Jude went rigid, his hands gripping my thighs hard enough to bruise, a deep groan rippling out of his throat as he came.

He held me there a few moments longer, his thighs trembling against me, then he finally relaxed his hands, and my legs flopped, boneless from his shoulders.

My whole body was as limp as overcooked spaghetti, and it was the best fucking feeling.

The mattress dipped as Jude climbed onto the bed and collapsed beside me, breathing heavily.

"Fuck," he mumbled.

All I could manage was, "Uhh."

Jude rested one hand on my ribs, and his touch was gentle after the rough sex, his thumb slowly stroking my skin.

Somewhere in my brain, I was aware that I needed to tell him what had happened at Rush, but the words wouldn't come. Lying here with Jude, naked and still coming down from blisteringly intense orgasms, I felt like I was in a pocket of pure happiness and I wanted to stay here a little longer.

Everything else could wait until morning.