Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“Lamb and roasted vegetables.” He pushes a chopping board across and places a peeler and a knife on it. “You’re in charge of the carrots.”
I raise my brows and collect a carrot. “Are these from the Kitchen Garden?”
“Everything in the basket is from the Kitchen Garden. Use the big carrots. You need to peel them and slice them into discs around five millimetres thick.”
“What qualifies as big?”
“About eight inches long, two inches thick.”
I frown to myself and pout as I try to measure out eight inches between my hands. “I don’t know how big that is.”
“Think of my cock,” Jude says, peeking up from slicing the courgette. “Erect.”
I cough over my laugh. “That’s not allowed.”
“Sure,” he murmurs. “Get on with it. I want to get to the really not-allowed stuff.”
God damn me, so do I. It was foolish to slap conditions on this. Our sexual chemistry was the catalyst to us. And truly, we’re not really us without our intimacy. I see a more vulnerable side to him when we connect like that.
I reach for a carrot and assess the length. The girth. Peek up at Jude, who’s merrily chopping his way through the Kitchen Garden. Smirking to myself, I get off the stool and round the island, and Jude stops chopping, eyeing me until I’m next to him.
“Excuse me,” I say, lowering to my knees.
His eyebrows shoot up as I stroke over his crotch. “What are you doing?” he asks, his voice unmistakably gruff.
“I take my job very seriously.”
The knife drops from his hand, clanging against the oak. “Shit, Amelia.”
I unzip his fly and reach into his boxers, taking hold of his hardening cock, and Jude grunts under his breath, clenching his eyes briefly. “Is this allowed?” he asks, as I continue to massage him.
I smile and pull out his raging hard-on, inhaling at the sight of the swollen, taut head weeping. I lean in and lick the head, humming my happiness. The smell of him, the feel, the taste. Home.
“Fuck,” Jude barks, his eyes dropping, hooded and dark. “Suck me, baby.”
“You want me to suck you?”
“Do it.”
I consider his demand for a few seconds, then smile and hold the carrot next to his dick, humming. “I think it’s just shy of eight inches, actually,” I muse, dropping him and standing. “Your dick, not the carrot.”
Jude lets out a sharp bark of laughter, grabbing the counter for support, as I make my way back round the island and slap the carrot on the chopping board, holding it gingerly with my damaged hand and bringing the knife down on the end. He jumps. The top flies off and shoots across the kitchen, and both Jude and I follow its path until it lands by the doorway.
“Now it’s seven inches,” I murmur, making Jude fold over the counter in complete hysteria. It makes me stop and take a moment to appreciate it. It’s the most gorgeous sight, Jude Harrison in a full-blown laughing fit, having to hold himself up. I rest my arse on a stool and split my attention between peeling a carrot, holding it cautiously with my dressed hand, and watching him gather himself, odd chuckles escaping. He wipes his eyes. “Alright there?” I ask.
He grins down at the half-chopped courgettes. “Amelia,” he says, turning his gaze up. His eyes are so green right now. I tilt my head in question. “I . . .” His mouth closes, and he inhales. “I’m really happy you’re here.”
I hardly want to admit it. Hardly. “Me too.”
Jude nods, thoughtful, blindly lowering the knife to the wood again, and the way he’s looking at me has sparks lighting up my insides. My body burns for him. I can’t stop it. Don’t want to. I lower the peeler, my lungs screaming with the effort to breathe easy. Just look at him. This beautiful, complicated man. My breathing becomes even more strained when the track changes and Kidnap and Lydy May’s “Cold Water” joins us.
“Oh God,” I whisper, feeling the throb between my legs get more violent.
“To hell with your boundaries.” Jude comes round the island and grabs me, getting his mouth on mine and attacking me full force. I reach for his shirt to tear it off, forgetting myself, and pain shoots through my hand. I hiss, retracting, trying to maintain our kiss. “Careful,” he says gently, forcing my backwards steps towards the bedroom, keeping our kiss up as he unbuttons his shirt, and I wriggle out of my sweater. The backs of my legs meet the edge of the bed, and I drop to my arse, flinging my top aside and trying and failing to unfasten my bra with one hand. “Leave it.” His chest swells as he shrugs out of his shirt and drops it. My panting is out of control, Jude looming over me as he strips, his eyes hungry and full of intent. His trousers hit the floor. I inhale. His thumbs slip past the waistband on his boxers. I peek up at him and bite my lip, my mouth watering as he eases them down his thighs and kicks them aside. And he’s naked. A polished mass of manly perfection. I swallow back my awe and reach for his hip, tracing a line down one side of his V to his pubic bone. His cock is at mouth level, and I won’t pass up that kind of opportunity again. Licking my lips, I take hold of him gently and circle the tip with my tongue, gazing up through my lashes to see him watching me intently. “Taste good?” he asks.