Protege(33)

Blinking, she slowly turned, her blood heating as she flattened her hands to the surface. His chair scraped quietly against the floor as the clink of his belt coming undone filled the silence. The skirt of her dress flipped up and his hand coasted softly over her bottom and thighs.

Catching her panties at the hip, he swiftly shifted them down to her knees and tapped her ankles with his foot until her stance widened. The gathered elastic at her knees tightened around her legs as his palm dragged up her spine, lowering her shoulders so she bent over the surface of the table.

Breath jagged, he reached between her thighs and slowly caressed her sex, parting her folds. “You’re so responsive to the littlest touch. You’re already soaking wet.”

How could she not be? Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. It was surreal. Her breath caught as his touch disappeared and his thighs brushed the backs of hers. He lined his body up with hers, holding her flesh, and filled her in one fluid motion, causing her to rock forward and moan.

He proceeded at a slow pace, thrusting hard. “I’ve forgotten how nice it is to have a woman take care of my needs. It’s been a while. Do you enjoy taking care of me, peach?”

“Yes, Sir.” Her hair tumbled over her shoulders as her body rocked with each deliberate stab of his thick cock.

His grip closed around her hips, drawing her into his thrusts. “And do you enjoy being at my beck and call, there for me to f*ck whenever the mood strikes?”

How much she enjoyed it was frightening. “Yes, Sir.”

“That’s a good girl.”

Her body tightened as he swiveled his hips, his cock buried deep. “Oh God.” Her palms slickened and she slid a bit lower over the table as he pumped harder without increasing his pace. “Jude . . .” She moaned his name and he growled, deliberately thrusting deep. “Jude!”

The slap of his hips to her backside echoed in the quiet house over their breathing as his pumps quickened. She continued to call out his name as he penetrated deeper and deeper, filling her so profoundly she’d likely feel him inside her for hours.

A fork clattered to the floor and she gasped. His grip loosened on her hip as his arm swept out and cleared the surface, sending dishes crashing to the floor and pitchers shattering. Startled, she tensed, but he gave her no time to react.

Withdrawing, he swatted her ass and she gasped again. “Up on the table.”

Shaking off the shock of his smack and the thrilling result it was having on her desire, she whispered, “Yes, Sir.”

Scurrying to the surface, she posed on her hands and knees as he climbed up behind her. Hitching her hips, he filled her again. His hand slapped down on her behind and she gulped in a sharp breath as heat bloomed along her rear. His hand gathered a hank of her hair, fisting it in a thick ponytail so her face tilted upward.

His rough handling shocked her as much as it excited her. He seemed desperate to have her in a way no man had ever wanted her. His desperation fed the eroticism of their coupling and she was suddenly experiencing sex as someone new, someone fearless in her sexuality.

All inhibitions vanished as she shouted out a litany of words that would make a sailor blush. His hand smacked down on her ass, again and again, patterning her flesh with a delicious burn. It didn’t hurt. On the contrary, the slight sting was edging her deeper into a place of hedonistic need. Her climax washed over her in a tumble of shutters and sighs. Her sex fluttered as he pounded into her, f*cking right through one orgasm and into another.

Her limbs trembled as her knees slid along the surface of the table, widening her position and lowering her chest closer to the table. He was relentless, folding his body over hers and keeping his rhythm, never letting her go.

His body blanketed hers as his teeth scraped over the damp flesh of her exposed throat, kissing and biting. When he finally finished, his body pinned her in place as his release flooded her.

His breath sawed out of his lungs, echoing in the room. She rested her cheek against the table and panted.

“You please me very much, Collette.”

She exhaled. “Thank you, Sir.”

His body lifted off hers, pulling slowly from the depths of her soul, and she slowly twisted to sit up. Her stocking was bunched around her knee and as she pulled it up she tsked at the run.

“Stay there. Let me find a broom.”

Her shoes were on the floor in a mix of shattered glass and spilled juice. Jude returned and quickly swept the floor, tossing the broken glass into the garbage. He shook out her shoes and slid them on her feet, then paused.

As though the world were suspended in motion, dependent on their next breath, everything stilled as he gave her his first full smile. “I really like you in that apron.”

Her cheeks heated as she blushed. “Thank you, Sir.”

“I think I like when you call me Jude,” he said as almost an afterthought to himself.

“Thank you, Jude,” she corrected, a strange warm sensation tunneling through her veins.

His finger traced the pull in her stocking. “We’ll get you more.”

“It’s okay. There are others in the dresser upstairs.”

His hand closed softly around her thigh. It was an intimate gesture, the kind he hadn’t displayed as of yet. The way he held her so delicately, as if her femininity beguiled him, made her very aware of his strength and reserve.

“Go freshen up and I’ll take you around Fernweh.”