Fool For You (Made for Love Book 4) (2 page)

“One day,” I mutter, kissing my way around the teeth marks left on her shoulder.

“One day, what? You’ll be my boyfriend?” she asks, properly amused.

“No, Diana. One day this cock will know your ass,” I clarify, sinking into her core.

“Oh,
fuck
,” she breathes. She lets go of my hair, her fists curling around my sheets. “You feel—” Her words get lost in a moan, her argument and her praise lost to the sounds of her pleasure as I slide out of her and ease my way back in.

“Fuck, yes. So goddamn wet.” I slide my hands up around her perfect hips, pushing her pelvis into the mattress as I glide in and out of her slowly. I know my pace will drive her wild. Soon, she’ll be begging for more.

I want to hear her plead for me—plead for her release.

I want her to acknowledge who is in control.

Her orgasm belongs to
me.

I feel it when she tries to lift her hips, her body speaking on her behalf. My lips curl impishly as I slow my rhythm even further. I look down, my eyes admiring our connection as I bury myself deep, pulling out until just the tip of my head parts her pussy lips before I ease back in.

“Jude—please, don’t torture me,” she whines, the confident seductress from a few moments ago long gone. “Let me come—
god—
let me come!”

Victory is mine. Always.

I pick up the pace, slowly at first. Soon, the room is filled with the sound of my skin pounding against hers. She gasps, whimpers, and moans—calling my name as I fuck her warm, wet cunt.

“I’m going to come,” she warns me.

“Wait,” I grind out, clenching my jaw as I slide a hand up her back, along her neck, and into her hair. I tangle my fingers in the silky blonde strands, pulling her head back, making her back bow.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Jude, I can’t. Shit—” She sucks in a breath, holding it as she attempts to do as I say. Her obedience makes me even harder. As my balls begin to tighten, I slide my hand out of her hair, around her neck, and under her chin.

Tilting her head back just a little more, I bring my mouth to hers before I whisper—“
Now.
”

I can feel it when she lets herself go, her pussy tightening around me. She cries out, the sound captured in my mouth as I close mine around hers. Reaching up, she cups the back of my neck, keeping me close as I pump into her faster—harder, chasing my release on the heels of hers.

I let her go when I feel myself swell before spilling my release. She collapses on the bed, her cheek pressed against my pillow as I ride out my climax with a grunt.

“Damn, that was good,” she whispers, still short of breath when I pull out of her. I flop onto my back at her side.

“You aren’t surprised,” I say in reply, reaching down to remove the condom.

She laughs, turning her face to look at me. “No. You’re not one to disappoint, St. Michaels.”

“I’m a man of my word, and I always hold up my end of the deal.” I sit up, tie the condom closed, and reach over to smack her ass before stepping out of bed. “I have an early tee-time in the morning,” I inform her on my way to the bathroom.

I hear her exasperated sigh just before I start the shower, but she says nothing in reply.

Diana is not one to complain, which is why I feel inclined to keep her number. However, she’s a cuddler. On the couple occasions that she has spent the night, it doesn’t matter how much space I put between the two of us before sleep, in the morning, she’s latched onto me like some sort of tick.

An attractive tick, of course—but a tick is a fucking tick.

Her company is best kept on the nights when I have an excuse as to why she’ll need to leave too early for her to care to stay. I won’t lie to her. I’m not a liar. I’m simply smart enough to schedule our rendezvous strategically. I’ll be up at six in order to meet Aunt Eddalyn tomorrow morning for a seven a.m. game of golf. I’m certain Diana would prefer to sleep in on her Saturday. I’m banking on it, content to see her go.

When I’m finished with my quick shower, I wrap a towel around my waist and head back into my room. Just as I suspected, Diana is sliding on her high-heels upon my entrance. She spots me, her gaze traveling up and down my wet body before she shivers. Her reaction to me makes my dick jerk, but I ignore it.

She saunters over to me, as confident as she was the day I met her, the dress she wore to dinner now wrinkled from its time on the floor. Sliding a hand up my chest and around the back of my neck, she simultaneously pulls me down and pushes herself up on her tiptoes, reaching for a kiss.

“Call me,” she purrs before making her way out of my bedroom.

I watch her go, enjoying the view. Then, a beat later, I follow behind her, so that I might lock up for the night. I wait until I hear her car pull out of the drive before I set the alarm and head to bed.

“Okay, boys, I think I’m going to head out,” I inform them before finishing the last of my wine.

“What? No! You can’t go,” Geoffrey protests, scrunching his brow at me.

I smile, amused by his attempt to intimidate me with a single glance. Unfortunately for him, he looks more adorable than aggressive—the copious amounts of alcohol in his system preventing him from looking like anything other than the blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty that he is.

“It’s almost midnight, Geoff. It’s been a crazy week, and I just want to go home,” I tell him, reaching over to brush a lock of hair off of his forehead.

It’s so unlike him to look anything other than stylishly disheveled. His bed-head-comb-over, which looks a hell of a lot better than it sounds, probably takes more time than I care to spend every morning taming my own long, wavy locks.

“You can carry on without me. Just promise me you’ll call a cab?” I ask, looking across the table at Andrew. His only response is a knowing smirk.

I watch as he taps the underside of his left ring finger against his beer glass, a habit of his. I’ve learned that he does it absentmindedly when he’s practicing patience. I’ve always wondered if the use of his wedding ring is ironic or telling. Though, his wife, Carrie, is great. I bet she’s just as anxious as he appears to be for him to be home. In my head, their relationship is this wonderful thing, with a connection that is still full of so much spark. I’ve seen the way she smiles at him sometimes.

Although, in reality, after fifteen years of marriage, she’s probably hoping he’ll come home to help her clean up, following the evening she’s spent with their five-year-old—our impromptu outing a sacrifice we’ve all made in the name of love.

“You can’t leave. It’s bad form,” Geoff states, pulling my focus back toward him. “I’m nursing a fucking broken heart, Teddy. Besides, you’ve been drinking. You can’t drive.”

“I’ve had one glass,” I laugh, nudging his broad shoulder with my little one.

“Well,
that’s
fucking bullshit,” he mutters before lifting his arm, signaling our waitress. “You’ll have another. We’re drinking, dammit!”

I open my mouth to protest, but the determined expression on his face, coupled with the sad look in his eyes, steals my ability to speak. I look back over at Andrew, hoping for a little bit of help. He shrugs and says, “
We’re drinking, dammit!
”

I cough out a half-hearted chuckle and then sigh in surrender. I don’t even protest when Geoffrey orders my wine, only to call the waitress back a second later to inform her that I will have two.

Looks like we’ll all be sharing a cab home.

“Fuck,” he mutters before draining the rest of his beer. He slams the glass down on the table and rakes his fingers through his hair. “I can’t believe he left me. That piece of shit bastard. What a fucking prick. I mean, damn him. Seriously. I’m the best thing that ever happened to that fuck face.”

“Hey, hey—calm down, babe,” I insist, reaching over to rub his back.

I know he’s hurting and he’s justifiably upset, but the last thing that we need tonight is his temper getting out of control. His inner beast is best unleashed in the privacy of his own home—where he can break his own things and not someone else’s.

“You’re right. You’re
amazing,
and this breakup is truly his loss. I’m so sorry, Geoff. I know how much you loved Reeve, but I promise you—you’ll be okay.”

“Don’t give me that shit,” he huffs, glaring at me. “Seriously, Teddy, I don’t need the bullshit. I gave that man two years of my life, and he just traded me in for a younger model. I’m old and—”

“You’re not old!” Andrew and I object in unison.

“Coming from
you
, I’ll accept,” he says, tipping his chin across the table at his brown-haired, hazel-eyed cousin. “You’ve got me beat by three years. But you?” He arches an eyebrow at me. “Baby girl, you don’t know the meaning of old. I could be your fucking father.”

I laugh, because he’s being wildly dramatic, and then cup my hands around his cheeks, turning his face toward mine. “Aside from the fact that you’ve never attempted to make a baby—let alone at the age of fourteen and a half—being thirty-seven does not make you nearly old enough to be my father.” I press a quick kiss against his pouting lips, pulling away with a smile. “And stop acting like you don’t know I’m right. You’re my best friend. I’d never lie to you, and you know it. You’re not old. And just because Reeve didn’t appreciate you, that doesn’t mean you won’t find someone else who will. You’re a catch. If you weren’t so gay, I’d be all over your ass.”

He rolls his eyes before returning my kiss with one of his own. “Please,” he mutters, pulling away from me. “You’ve never been all over
anyone’s
ass—so don’t give me that.”

I let go of his face, reaching for my recently delivered wine. I take a long sip, hoping that my silence will encourage the conversation away from me. When Andrew chuckles, I know I’m about to get an earful.

“He’s got a point.”

“Andy…” I warn.

“It’s Friday night in the dead of summer. You’ve got those great legs and those big eyes, and instead of using them on some lame chump who probably doesn’t deserve you, you’re drinking with your married boss and your gay colleague. Bestie broken heart aside—no offense, Geoff.” He pauses, raising his glass toward his cousin. Geoff nods his encouragement before Andrew continues. “We’ve known you for almost two years, and not
once
have you even
thought
about dating someone.”

“Hey—that’s not fair,” I argue, pointing a finger at him. “I’ve been on plenty of dates.”

“A dozen, tops. None of them repeats,” says Geoff.

I give him the side-eye. His annoyingly accurate memory is not helping. The truth is, they are both right. I haven’t had a boyfriend in a long time. In fact, my life hasn’t been a very good reflection of my age since I was nineteen years old. My circle of friends is tiny. I don’t go out much; and when I do, it’s not with the intention to draw any sort of attention my way. Granted, on the few occasions that I am noticed, I’m smart enough to know that a date every now and then is probably good for me. I do
want
to be in a relationship. Some day. I can’t be completely out of practice.

Nevertheless, I’m pretty good at being single.

“Look—I like my life. I love my job. I love you guys. I’ve got enough friends to keep me from being anti-social, a hobby that gets me out constantly, and a sister who acts as if it’s her purpose in life to make sure
my
life has plenty of spice.”

“Seriously, Teddy—you have a body of a twenty-two-year-old, and the mind of a fifty-year-old.”

“Hey!” I scoff with a laugh, crumbling up my napkin to throw across the table.

“Andy’s right. We need to hook you up.”

“Geoffrey… You can’t be serious?”

“As a fucking heart attack, bitch.”

I grab his chin, angling his face toward mine. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

He smirks before he kisses me. “Let’s play a game,” he says, taking my hand from his face before wrapping his fingers around mine. “Tell me who in this room you think is hot. Give us something to work with.”

“Geoff,” I laugh, wishing he was kidding.

“Come on, Teddy. Please? I need the distraction.”

He casts his sad eyes on me and I can’t refuse him. I nod, clinging to his arm as I begin to scan the room. Immediately, I spot a cute guy with glasses and long, dark hair; he’s got it pulled up into a bun on the top of his head.

“What about him? Two o’clock.”

Both Andrew and Geoffrey look his way. Andy turns back, lifting an eyebrow at me, and Geoff huffs his disapproval.

“Hell, no. Baby girl, we like ‘em
clean,
not shaggy.”

I laugh, holding his arm tighter. This might actually be fun, especially with all of us drinking. I give his arm a squeeze as my eyes peruse the room. I’m happy to play along for the sake of the man at my side, nursing his broken heart. I know all too well what that pain feels like.

All too well.