Page 60 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet

I ache everywhere for him.

I don’t know how he does it, how he turns the tables. I’m supposed to be the writer, and he just told me the most erotic bedtime story ever.

“Do you jack off picturing me?” I’m not sure how I can even form the words to ask anything, but I’ve got to know the answer.

“I like to imagine getting down on my knees and sucking your cock.”

I. Can’t. Think.

I can onlydo.

Pushing his hand off me, I spin him around, shove him against the wall, and plant a bruising kiss on his lush lips. “But it’s your turn, Jude.”

Then I get down on my knees again, and I swallow his cock.

“Ohfuckohfuckohfuck.” Jude grabs my head, yanks me against him. My face is up against his pubic bone, and his dick is down my throat, and I am so fucking turned on. Ineedto wind him up now. I have to show him I can make him feel spectacular. So, I give him even more. I slide a hand between his legs, press a finger against his ass.

He grips my hair. “You can’t do that.”

I believe in listening to a lover, so I ease off, slowly and torturously, my tongue flicking over the head as I go. “Which part? This?” I ask innocently, then tease at his hole with my finger, pushing the pad inside again. “Or that?” I ask as I draw the head of his cock between my lips once more.

A tremble racks his body. “All of it. I’ll come on your face in seconds, but I really want to come on your chest.”

There he goes again. Taking control.

We’re dried off and in his room in two minutes flat.

When he falls snow-angel style on the bed, I’m pretty sure the only thing I’m going to ponder for the rest of the night is how to make him lose his mind.

I kneel between his thighs, spread them apart, and reach for the lube on his nightstand.

I’ve only thought about this five thousand times, and still I’m jittery, like it’s my first time having sex.

But it’s my first time with Jude, and that’s all that matters.

Maybe the first of many times with him?

Nope. Can’t go there, won’t go there.

As I drizzle lube on my palm, I meet his gaze. “Show me what you look like when you’re getting off to me.”

Jude grabs his cock, stroking it for me.

I could watch him all night. I could stay in this front-row seat to his one-man sex show.

But it’s not a solo production. We’re in this scene together, and when I press a finger against his entrance, his mouth falls open. I slide my finger a little deeper.

“Yes, fucking yes,” he moans, and my God, Jude is so expressive. It’s a gift to touch him, to be the man to earn these sounds.

He grips his cock tighter, twists his wrist.

I add another finger, crook both. His entire body jumps. And the best part?

He can’t speak anymore. There are no more filthy confessions. He just grunts and groans, jerks and tugs as I open him up.

Then, everything happens in a red-hot blur. Jude bats my hand away, rises, and grabs a condom from the nightstand. “Lie down so I can ride your dick.”

I thought I was in control. I thought I was topping him. But when I shift to my back, and he rolls the protection down my shaft, then straddles me, I know that was a lie I told myself.

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