Protege(56)
His hand hovered over her hair for a moment, then gently feathered down. “Go before I eat you.”
She giggled and slipped out of the bed. Outside the curtain, dusk flooded the room with deep purples tinged in gold. The house was chilly and she didn’t know the trick for using the locked door to her room, so she grabbed one of his shirts on the chair and slipped it over her shoulders.
Her body demanded attention before anything else. Taking a quick detour to her private bathroom, she cleaned up. There wasn’t much to take care of, being that he’d tended to her when they had finished. Still, she wanted to be at her best for him. With her hair pinned high in a clip, she quickly washed off in the shower.
As she dried her body, her gaze snagged on the mirror. She’d been quick, so the room had barely steamed. Her hand fluttered to her chest as she stared at her reflection, a knowing smile tugging at her mouth.
It was likely imagined, but her eyes appeared wiser and her skin held a healthy glow. Her gaze drifted to the locked charm dangling from her wrist, and she sighed. “Take it easy, girl. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
In the kitchen, she used a small platter and filled it with grapes, cheese, and some almonds. Swiping an open bottle of wine and two glasses, she returned to his bedroom.
The spatter of the shower told her it was still occupied. The soft sloshing sounds of water, different from the steady drizzle a vacant shower sang, sending her mind on a carnal fantasy as she imagined his hard body slick with soap and flexing under the stream of hot water. How breathtaking his naked form was. She briefly considered joining him, but as she placed the tray on the nightstand the water shut off. Damn.
She stole a grape and removed his shirt, then slipped onto his bed and waited. On a whim, she shifted to her knees, wanting to present her gifts in a proper manner. He appeared with a damp towel slung low around his defined hips and stilled as he caught sight of her. “Pretty peach.”
She grinned. “I brought you some snacks to nibble.”
He walked slowly to the bed, never taking his eyes off her. “I see that.” Leaning close, he brushed his lips over hers and pulled back as she tried to meet him halfway. “I think I’ll nibble this peach for a moment.”
Nudging her backward, he climbed onto the bed. His towel fell to the mattress, damp and cool. Sliding her knees apart, he kissed down her belly and slowly licked her.
Lifting her arms over her head, she sighed and stared at the chandelier as he slowly pleasured her. His touch was gentle, a delicate massage that built and cooled like a slow summer breeze.
His tongue slid between her folds, skillfully sipping from her. No one had ever done that so carefully without the urgent rush to make her climax. His fingers never entered her. He used only his mouth, and used it in the tenderest way possible.
Slowly, her pleasure peaked. Soft moans broke the silence, buffered by the drapes partially surrounding the bed. Everywhere he touched took her further along this sensual journey. Her skin seemed to awaken as his palm glided up and down the bottom of her thigh.
Delicately, his thumb strummed her clit as his hand caressed her legs, knees, and feet. His mouth took over as the fingers of his other hand pulled gently on her nipple. Like the waves born in the middle of the sea, her pleasure formed and grew. Her cries picked up pace as the intrepid beat of her heart fled into a steady gallop.
When the wave finally crested and broke, she felt as though every part of her shattered and skittered away, only to pull back into itself—whole again.
He collapsed next to her and reached for a cluster of grapes. “I’ve developed a fondness for peaches.”
She grinned, her fingertips following the rapid pulse of her heart as she caught her breath. “You’re very good at that, Sir.”
He held the grapes over her lips and she bit one plump ball off the offering. Juice filled her mouth as she sank her teeth into the fruit.
“I’d say we’re equally talented in terms of oral sex.”
They munched in silence, Jude holding the plate on his chest and feeding her a morsel of whatever he fed himself.
“How do you support yourself, Collette?”
Her mind shifted at the question. “I’ve been single a long time. A girl only needs so much beyond a cell phone and an apartment.”
“No shoe fetishes to feed?”
She grinned. “No. I have other fetishes to worry about.”
He turned and studied her. “Such as?”
She shrugged. “Look where I am.”
How perfectly he’d named Fernweh. When she first discovered its existence she’d looked into the name but found no English translation. He must have picked up the term during one of his trips overseas. The German word, as she understood, indicated a longing, a deep desire, strong enough to push a person toward the unknown and pull them away from the world they’d always lived within.
She had such a yearning—fernweh. The unquenched yearning only subsided to a tolerable ache once she’d met Jude, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
“This isn’t a fetish, it’s a desire for a certain dynamic,” he whispered.
“A fetish is something one links to an abnormal degree of sexual meaningfulness. You have no idea how much gratification I get from taking care of someone. It’s abnormal and equally sexual to some degree.” She stilled, her mind seeming to catch up to her tongue.