Saint Jude: Los Angeles Bad Boys (14 page)

M
y heart breaks for Jude
. So much of him is shattered, but there’s more to him I don’t know, more broken glass.

I’m willing to pick through the shards to get to his heart.

“Oh, baby,” I say climbing into his lap, running my hands over his cheeks, wiping his tears away. I’ve seen a man cry before, but not like this. Not like him.

Jude is tender, a real man. “I’m a lost cause,” he whispers.

“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to read the lines on the face of the man who’s captured my heart in ways I barely comprehend. “Help me understand.”

“Evangeline and Holden were right,” Jude says, shaking his head. “I do have some complex where I feel compelled to save people. Be the hero. But you know why, Catalina? Do you know why I can’t let someone walk away when I know they need help?”

“Tell me.” I watch him watch me, not letting anything get in the way of this moment.

“Growing up, we lived by the water. The ocean. We played there every single day. One day when I was thirteen, my little brother Nolan was with me. He was eight.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“I don’t anymore. I was with him at the ocean that day. I told my mom I’d watch him. He loved the sand. He could dig in it for hours.”

Jude shakes his head, his lips twisting at the memory. And I can see it, too. I can imagine Jude as a boy by the water with his little brother, kicking sand, their feet covered in foamy white waves.

“I left him there when I went to get buckets and shovels back at the house. I told him to stay far from the waves, and he always listened. He knew the ocean was dangerous … but something drew him to the waves that day.

“I was gone a few minutes, and then I heard him screaming—screaming for help. I ran to the water so fast, wanting so badly to get to him before it was too late. But he was gone. I went after him, but quickly realized I’d never make it and swam back to shore. The current was stronger than I could swim, and I didn’t want my mother losing two boys that day. My brother was pulled under. I let him die. Instead of saving him, I let him go.”

“Jude,” I say, my voice cracking, my heart cracking—which is impossible, since everything between Jude and me is already fractured. His eyes are full of tears again, and there’s nothing I can do to fix this pain he carries.

I see so clearly why Jude wants to fix everything, as a way to repay what happened when he was so young. He’s looking to save everyone, because he couldn’t rescue his brother.

“It’s ironic,” he says. “My name. The idea of me being the patron saint of lost causes. When
I’m
the lost cause. I always have been. Ever since that day when Nolan died—when I let him die. Ever since then, I’ve fought to forgive myself, but I don’t think it’s possible, Catalina. I don’t think I will ever get over what I didn’t do. And nothing I ever do will be enough.”

“That’s not true. You can’t try to repay a debt you don’t owe. Waste your life trying, but it will never work.”

“Catalina, he died because of me.”

“No. That’s not true. This is a tragic story, but it isn’t a story to be ashamed of. What happened on the beach that day is so sad, but it’s also the reason you’re the man you are today. Loving. Kind. Generous.”

“I would trade all those things if Nolan could be alive.”

“I’m sure you would,” I tell him. “And I’m so sorry you can’t.”

“Maybe this is why Rachel is taking Etta This is another way I can pay for what I did.”

“Jude, Rachel keeping Etta from you does not bring your brother back.”

“Catalina, I know that.” Jude swallows, looking at me dead on. “Nothing can bring Nolan back. But having Etta gives meaning to my life. She’s this precious, daily reminder of how beautiful it all is. Nolan didn’t survive when he went into the ocean, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t swim.”

“Do you forgive yourself for what happened to Nolan?”

“I thought I had. But then Rachel left, and it brought back all those memories. That’s why I have such a damn hard time watching people walk away. I walked away.”

Hearing his words, I realize how hard it must have been for him when I walked away, when I told him that I didn’t want his help, that I didn’t want to be in it with him.

Especially now.

Especially now, when I know exactly what I want.

Him.

“I’m sorry I left you,” I tell him.

“I know why you left me. This life of mine is pretty damn complicated,” Jude shakes his head. “Too messy for a girl like you. You’ve already had too much to deal with the last two years with that asshole; you don’t need someone new to walk into your life and make it a bigger shit show.”

“Too bad, Jude,” I tell him, gripping his face with my hands. My mouth is so close to his, our breath hot, our hearts beating hard.

Both of us desperate. Both of us needy. Both of us wanting what is right in front of us.

“Too bad
what
, Catalina?”

“Too bad that this is complicated. I like complicated. I
love
complicated. I love
you
.”

The sentence just falls from my mouth, but it’s exactly the truth.

“I love you, Jude. And you may be a complete mess right now—sort of drunk and sort of sobbing. But I’m sort of a mess too.”

“You’ll be my mess?” he asks me. His arms wrap around my waist as I move to straddle him on this chair.

“Your mess to clean up? No. Your lovely mess? Your completely delicious, fuck-you-until-we-fall-asleep mess? Your over-my-head and head-over-heels mess? Yes. That’s the kind of mess I am. That’s the kind of mess you’ve got.”

“I love you, too,” he tells me. “But Catalina, what if my mess becomes too big for you?”

“Then we’ll have to clean it up together.”

I mean it, the things I said tonight to him. I mean them.

And so I kiss him.

I kiss him hard. A salty, tears-on-our-faces kiss. A filled with fear and desire and lust and love, all wrapped up in one mouth on mouth perfect kiss. A kiss where our lips part and our tongues entwine. Our hearts? They are one.

In this kiss, I’m not scared. Even though I’m completely terrified.

In this kiss, I’m not hurting, even though I know Jude and I are broken.

In this kiss, I see a blue-sky sunshiny day, even though stars light up the sky.

In this kiss, I feel more whole than I ever have before.

In this kiss, Jude carries me away.

I
pull
her off the loveseat, needing more of her skin against mine, needing all of her to be pressed to me.

Needing her in a way that’s demanding and true, in a way that will not take no for an answer.

Which is good, because right now both of us are begging for a yes.

Begging to be together.

Deeply.

Completely.

“I love you, baby,” I tell her, my mouth on her ear, breathing hot air against her skin.

“Is that just the booze talking?” she asks, a teasing smile playing across her lips.

“It most certainly is not. But damn, my cock is speaking loud and clear right now.”

She reaches her hand to my raging hard-on, feeling the outline of me through my jeans, and she wraps her other hand around my neck as she does, pressing against me into another kiss that’s full of heat, our mouths melting against one another as we sink into the kiss.

She moans into my mouth, and her hand reaches below the waist of my jeans, taking hold of my throbbing cock.

“Oh, baby,” I tell her. “I’m gonna fuck you now. Right here.”

“Do it.” Her hand fumbles with the buttons on my jeans, and I pull down her tank, wanting to take her bare nipple into my mouth, wanting to lick her hard nub. My tongue rolls around her tight nipple. I suck her perfect breast, wanting my face to be buried in her chest, because she’s so fucking hot.

My cock strains against my jeans as she pulls them down, but damn, I just want to bury my cock against her tits, too. Titty-fuck her until I come all over her face. See my jizz coating her mouth, watching as she licks it off her swollen lips, imagining her swallowing my motherfucking seed.

“Oh, baby, I need to fuck you bad.”

“Good,” she moans. “Because my pussy is so wet for you, Jude. It’s been too long since you took me and did what you liked.”

“You know you liked it, too, Catalina. You know you liked it when I came all over your perfect ass.”

“I want you to come in me and come all over me. I want to suck you off, Jude, and I want you to lick my pussy clean. I want you to lick me until I soak your face. And then I want you to fuck me again.”

I pull off her tank top, take off my tee-shirt, let her run her hands greedily over my chest as we stand on my porch, under the star-lit sky, ready to fuck until we beg.

I step out of my jeans, let my hard cock spring to life. And I swear, the sight of me gets her panties soaked.

I watch as she unbuttons her shorts, then she stands before me with her hand dipping below the waistband, reaching for her own fucking mound. I watch as her hand moves up and down, petting her pussy like a good girl.

“Oh, baby,” I growl, stroking myself, stepping toward her, ready to flip her up and over and then fuck her left and right. Fuck her good. Fuck her forever.

“You’re so hard,” she pants, her hand moving faster as she watches me touch myself.

“I need to see your pussy—and I need to see it now.” I lay her down on the chaise lounge, her head propped with a pillow, and I tug those tiny little cut-offs down to her ankles.

She’s not wearing any panties—and, fuck, that gets me harder than I thought possible.

“Spread your legs,” I tell her. “Drop to your knees. I need to see your perfect tits.”

She does as I tell her to, and her tits are round globes, reflecting the light of the moon. She bites the corner of her lip, spreading her little pussy apart with her fingers. I think I’m gonna come just from the sight of her fingers rubbing in circles over her gap.

“Baby, you’re so fucking hot.”

She moves her fingers faster, and I do, too, stroking myself as she nears climax.

“Can you get yourself off?” I ask her.

“No,” she says. “Not without a vibrator. I want to, though. I want to make myself come.”

“Keep moving your hand like that,” I instruct her. “And come sit on the edge of the chaise.”

She scoots where I tell her to, her legs spread apart. I stand between them.

“Now touch yourself. Touch your pussy like you were before, but suck my cock, too. That will make you come.”

“I want that so bad. I want to taste you so bad, Jude.”

“Good, then put my cock in your mouth and suck like you were made to do.”

She opens her mouth and takes me. Her lips tighten around my raging cock, and I move her head up and down.

“Touch your pussy, and keep sucking. That will make you gush.”

Her mouth is too full to answer. She’s sucking me so fucking good. My cock is going to explode. I don’t hold back. Instead, I thrust my cock against her, knowing she likes it, likes it so damn much—because her hand is moving fast as she works herself raw.

Finally, she stops sucking, and that’s good, because I’m about to fucking explode. She pulls back, her lips draped open, her middle finger circling her clit nice and fast. My cock is ready to burst.

“I’m gonna come all over your tits, and then you’re gonna come too, understand?”

“Yes, baby,” she moans. “Come all over me. Come on my tits, on my face. Come in my mouth.”

I pump my cock nice and hard, ribbons of my come spurting against her perky tits, coating her neck, her chin, her lips with my milky cream.

“You like that, don’t you?” I ask her.

“Oh, God, I love it.” She licks her lips, panting as she rolls her fingers over her hard nipples, rubbing my come all over her skin.

“Lay down so you can finish,” I tell her, wanting her to reach climax completely. My come is coating her just like I wanted, just like she needed.

“Touch me,” she begs. “Touch my pussy like you did before. Touch me until I’m coming all over you.”

“You want me to finish you off?” I ask her, not wanting to take away any pleasure she might find in her own personal finger-fuck.

“Fuck me like you love me, Jude,” she tells me, a smile of utter and complete happiness playing over her face.

“Oh, boy—I’ll fuck you like I’ll marry you.”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

“Oh, I mean it. I’m going to marry you before I’m done with you. And you better believe it.”

“Jude,” she says, covering her face, laughing at my incredulity. “We can talk marriage and babies later. Right now, let’s just talk about your cock in my pussy. Let’s just talk about fucking until we fall asleep.”

“Fine,” I tell her, not pushing her into anything she isn’t ready for. But hell, neither of us are ready for any of this. No one is. Because there’s no user manual, no Wikipedia page telling us the facts. The whens or the whys. All we’ve got is the nows.

The right now.

And right now, I love this woman.

And so I tell her that again.

“I love you, Catalina. So hard. And I don’t know what our love will look like, but that doesn’t fucking matter. Right now, I think our messy love is enough.”

She has tears in her eyes again, and I feel bad, because she still hasn’t orgasmed. And what kind of fucker am I to tell a girl I love her but not get her completely off?

So I do.

I fuck her pussy all night long. My cock pounds her until she is pouring her sweet juice all over my cock, until her legs are slick with her pleasure, and my fingers pound her little pussy until she’s screaming in ecstasy.

We fuck until we fall asleep in one another’s arms, and we’re in a cocoon of love all night long.

We’re in a cocoon of love right up until the morning, when Rachel finds us naked on the back porch.