Page 109 of Play With Me
I can’t help bringing my tongue to the tight pucker of her asshole right as I sense she’s going to come though, and I’m not too proud to suspect that’s what brought her fully over the edge, coming so hard her whole body arches as she screams.
An hour later, I’ve got her curled up in my arms while I try hard not to stroke my still-straining dick. “Jude, let me touch you,” she whispers, her hand grazing down over the fabric between my legs.
I gently guide her hand away. “Later. I wanted this to be all for you, Nora.”
She looks up at me, her eyes in that wide, blinking state they get when she’s looking perilously close to crying.
“Hey, that’s the look you gave me when we watched that ASPCA commercial I did last year.”
“They still played that Sarah McLachlan song!” she exclaims. “It was unfair.”
I tuck her head against my shoulder. “I’ll just think about dogs,” I murmur.
“What?”
“Just one of my tricks. When you go as long as I did without sex”—which in hindsight, I consider, is insane given Nora was right there being sexy as hell next to me for so long—“you come up with some tricks.”
Nora rises up on an elbow. “I know another good trick.”
“You sure? It really doesn’t look like you get how these tricks work,” I say, drawing my hand down her bare chest, my thumb brushing her nipple. My cock strains painfully.
Nora laughs, then scrambles around for her bra, pulling it on and hiding those magnificent little tits.
I frown. “I guess that’s a good one.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of a two-hour drive in the snow to find a hopefully-still-standing cabin.”
I laugh. “Right. That.”
CHAPTER26
Nora
Iclutch the map against my chest, peering through the snowy trees lining the lane we’re currently driving on. “Are you sure we shouldn’t just park back down on the road?”
Jude angles the steering wheel sharply to the right to nudge the Range Rover to the side, narrowly avoiding a boulder half-obscured in the snow. “Don’t worry, Nor. We’ve got chains on. Plus, it’s at least a couple miles up this road.”
He’s right, the walk would have been brutal. The road down below was already winding straight up the lower part of a mountain, and this lane is even more treacherous. It obviously hadn’t been used in ages because there was a locked gate at the bottom. At least, it looked locked at first. There was an ancient padlock—one of those heart-shaped things with an old-fashioned keyhole in it—but it had been broken, with force it looked like. There were dents around the keyhole, and the rusted-over locking mechanism appeared bent.
“Someone broke in before us,” Jude says, peering at the heart-shaped lock.
I swallow at the broken, battered heart, reaching my fingers up to my own chest.
“Years ago,” I say softly.
“Who?” Jude wonders out loud.
I don’t have an answer to that. Her husband? JEQ?
Griffin told us the cottage was owned by George Cleary. But he went bankrupt a few years after Eleanor’s murder, and all his assets sold. This was one that didn’t. “Nobody wanted it,” he said. He told us it’s now owned by a holding company that buys up old properties and foreclosures. “They normally flip the properties or hold them as investments—this one looks like the latter. The property taxes are paid every year, but there’s no utility service to the building.”
“So it’s just sitting there?” I ask.
“There’s no record of anyone living there in decades, or even the company doing any assessments in the past several years,” Griff said, contemplating as he chewed his food.
This man was so different from his enthusiastic, effusive brother, it was almost comical.
“Why hasn’t it been sold?” Jude asks.
