Wilde Nights in Paradise (A Wilde Security Novel) by Tonya Burrows

Author:Tonya Burrows [Burrows, Tonya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Wilde Security#1
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC (Brazen)
Published: 2013-05-16T10:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Libby rolled over on the big bed for the fourth time that night and kicked off the sheets. So uncomfortable. And hot, her skin flushed despite the softly blowing air conditioner.

Why couldn’t she just sleep already?

Okay, she knew that answer even though she loathed admitting it, even to herself. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw images of Jude in this bed with her, doing things to her that made her insides quake.

It wasn’t fair.

Out of all the men on the planet, she had to want the one who was the worst for her mental health. Frustrating, annoying, impossible, selfish Jude Wilde.

But he was right about one thing: they burned up the sheets together and, God, did she need the release of a good orgasm right now. She’d been wound so tight since their fight this afternoon, and then the way he’d stared at her during Battleship…

No man ever stared at her like that. No man, that is, except for Jude.

“You can’t have him,” she told the ceiling.

Well, no, that wasn’t completely true. She couldn’t let herself have the real him again—but the fantasy version, the one she kept locked away in her mind and brought out on lonely nights? That version of Jude she’d permit herself. He’d always be there, always be hers, and he was perfect because he never spoke. Never teased. Never infuriated. He was just there to offer pleasure.

She closed her eyes and as she traced a hand down her body, she pictured him, the Jude she used to know. Younger, his hair shorter in a severe military cut, his body leaner and less muscled. No earring. No tattoos. Same pale blue eyes, quick smile, and talented fingers.

She imagined those fingers now, slick with her desire, parting her folds, finding her clitoris. Her body tightened as pleasure zinged through her and a low moan escaped her throat. He slid a finger into her, testing her, and she was oh so ready, hanging on by a thread. His thumb tweaked her bundle of nerves and his lips brushed her neck, traced her jaw.

Come for me, babe. Now. I want you to come for me.

Oh God. Young Jude faded away as the words whispered through her mind and an image of the man sleeping out on the couch took his place.

Come for me.

She was going to, her body trembling on the edge of that abyss. Holy hell, this fantasy was so much more potent. Jude, with his earring and all his tattoos, his wide shoulders and hard body that always crushed her into the mattress with each powerful thrust of his hips. She strained toward climax, begging him to finish it, to take her over into oblivion with his amazing fingers—and still it wasn’t enough.

Dammit. Fantasy wasn’t enough.

Nearly sobbing in frustration, she lifted her hips to meet her hand and squeezed her eyes shut tighter. She needed to come. She needed…

“Jude.” Yes, saying his name helped. He was right there in bed with her, driving her mercilessly toward orgasm, whispering naughty things in her ear.

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