Page 105 of The Invitation

He nods and turns me onto my front, effectively bending me over the counter, and draws my knickers down my legs.

“Oh shit,” I whisper, my palms flattening against the wooden surface, my boobs squished. I look over my shoulder to Jude loomingover me, both of his hands smoothing across my arse cheeks. The hunger in him is something else. I can’t possibly be misreading the utter desperation on his face. His eyes flick to mine as he pushes his boxers down, his dick springing free, jutting out, long and hard. I blow out my cheeks and brace myself.

“Watch me fuck you over the kitchen counter, baby.” He nods past me, and I swallow and look forward. To the mirrored doors of the fridge. A small, awed wisp of breath leaves me as I push up onto my forearms. The sight. “Quite the vision, huh?” He reaches for my hair and pulls my head back, and then he enters me slowly on a long exhale, his eyes on my boobs in the mirror, mine on his face, the strain taking his beauty to new heights. His abs bulge, his pecs swell, his hair falls onto his face. I close my eyes and absorb the fullness, humming when he bends over me and presses his lips to my back, kissing from one side to the other. “Are you ready?” he whispers.

I nod, dizzy with pleasure, and he starts moving, driving in and out, grinding firmly, working us both up, finding his pace, maintaining it for a few mind-bending minutes, before upping the ante, no longer driving, but hitting deep in short, fast bursts.

“Jude,” I groan, my head lolling. “So good.” I watch him in the mirror, owning my body, strong and powerful.

Sliding his hands onto my shoulders, he pulls me back onto his advances, his jaw taut. I’m forced to my tippy-toes, his hips thrusting, increasing gradually until they’re going like pistons.

I cry out constantly, but my eyes remain nailed to him in the mirror. The veins in his neck bulge, and I am helpless, at the mercy of his command, his fingers clawing into my hips. I can’t describe the pleasure. The sight of him, of us, his face, the gratification plastered all over it. The sounds of our bodies crashing together, the smell of sweat, Jude, and me, all mingling. The telltale heat rises from my toes, my stomach furls, my muscles tense. I hold my breath, try to seize the teasing orgasm creeping forward, his dick banging into me relentlessly. His eyes smoke out, and his head drops back, his lips parting.

Balling my fists, I press them into the wood, trying to anchor myself. This is going to be powerful. “Yes,” I breathe, chasing the release, willing it forward. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Jude sucks air through his teeth, powering on, merciless, unstoppable. “Come on, come on.”

“Yes!” I shout, the pleasure sizzling on the edge, waiting to spill over and engulf me.

“Fucking hell, Amelia!” he yells, fucking me hard, banging all the tension and doubts away.

I’m fixated, enthralled, his slick chest swelling, his neck bulging. “Yes!”

“Fuck.”

“Yes!”

“Amelia!”

“Yes!”

“Fuck, I adore you.”

Bang, bang, bang.

“Talk to me, baby,” he bellows. “Tell me.”

“Now!” It grabs me and tosses me into a euphoric state, my vision blurring, my hearing fogging, Jude’s yells and shouts becoming fuzzy and distant. Every inch of me is hypersensitive, my body reacting violently, twitching. “Oh God,” I gasp, dizzy, fighting back the fog as Jude comes with me, his upper body folding over my back, his shuddering fierce. We’re both rendered useless as we deal with the pleasure, and it’s never-ending, me splattered against the wood, Jude splattered against my back.

“Fucking hell,” he gasps, sniffing, rubbing his wet forehead across my skin, his hair tickling my back.

Tremors are still slithering through me. I’m paralysed, unable to move, hardly able to catch my breath, panting across the countertop. I can’t talk, and I wouldn’t know what to say if I could. My head is all over the place. Sex does not make things better.

Fucking take me. Devastate me. Do what the fucking hell you want with me.

Dazed, my clit still pulsing, my walls still throbbing, I close my eyes and try to imagine the best outcome here. My heart intact would be the best outcome, along with my dignity. I never anticipated this. I never anticipatedhim.

And now I feel royally fucked, because Jude is right. Walking away isn’t an option.

It’s also impossible.

Unnatural.

I’m a fuckup. A total fuckup, so, yes, the best thing you could do is leave and crack on with your life.

Except I can’t seem to leave, and when I stupidly tried, he stopped me.

I don’t want to ruin this.

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