The Breaup

It was mortifying, really, to think of how easily she'd been taken in. As a strong, independent woman, she prided herself on her ability to tell when a man was truly interested in her, and when he was just trying to get her out of her clothes.

At least, she

had

prided herself on that ability. But then Jude had come along...and before you could snap your fingers, she'd been stripping out of her clothes and begging him to take her. And he had.

Oh, he had.

But Celia wasn't the time to share. No, not at all. Even if there wasn't a plethora of diseases running around, it would grate her pride way too much to share a man with other women. And Jude...well, he couldn't have kept his zipper up even if it was super-glued.

No matter how much she wanted to throw a fit, throw a pillow, throw a vase, throw

anything

, she refused to give in to the urge. Temper tantrums weren't something that strong women indulged in--they handled their problems and disappointments in a mature, controlled manner. Especially when they involved the opposite sex.

Glancing in the foyer mirror as the knock landed on her door, Celia gave a little nod of approval. The grass green button-down shirt was a perfect match for her eyes, and complimented her light brown hair nicely. Her jeans were old, a favored pair, comfortable...but not so comfortable that they didn't cup her ass nicely. Her bare foot tapped on the hardwood floor as she continued her critical perusal, her toes painted a shockingly bright pink.

It was the perfect outfit, the perfect look, to dump the cheating bastard.

Look what you won't be fucking anymore. Too bad for you.

Being mature didn't mean you couldn't be slightly vindictive as well.

Turning to the door, she pulled it open, letting her full lips curve up slightly. Even as her traitorous hormones sighed over his long, rangy frame, the slightly long jet black hair, and the soulful blue eyes, her brain yelled out "Cheater! Cheater! Cheater!"

With a firm reminder to listen to her brain and not her hormones, Celia stepped back, edging out of the way of Jude's kiss with the slightest of movements. Raising an eyebrow, Jude stepped inside, waiting until she closed the door and turned to face him before speaking.

"Problem?"

Like you don't know

. "I think we should have a talk. Just a little one." Keeping herself an arm's length away from him, Celia crossed the small living room and settled into a deep armchair. Arching his eyebrow again, Jude took a seat opposite her on the couch, a mahogany coffee table covered with magazines and paper separating them.

"I think it would be best for both of us if we stopped seeing each other. Certain...facts have been brought to my attention, and I don't feel comfortable continuing this relationship. In fact, I feel very uncomfortable, and very upset about the information that I was given." Celia waited a beat, to see if he would respond, and when he didn't, she raised her eyebrow in mocking imitation of him. "Silence, Jude? This is so unlike you."

"By your delicate language, I can tell that what you're referring to is that fact that I sleep with other women." Chuckling at her outraged expression, he continued, "I won't insult either one of us by denying it. Although I could point out that you never asked if I was sleeping with anyone else, and we never officially agreed to be in a relationship, I don't think I will. You probably wouldn't appreciate it."

Stunned at his audacity--not to mention the truthfulness of his remarks--Celia decided that maturity wasn't going to work for her tonight. Flinging a throw pillow at him, she shouted, "I shouldn't have had to ask. You should have volunteered the information. You should have--."

Whatever else she might have been about to say was smothered by Jude's mouth on hers. Shocked motionless for a moment--they were having a fight, for Christ's sake, why was he kissing her--Celia sat completely still, her heart beating double time from temper. It had to be temper. Her hormones were completely under control.

And then Jude nipped her lower lip in that way he had, causing her to gasp, and thrust his tongue into her mouth--and her hormones broke through the resistance of her mind.

Gripping his hips with her hands, she sucked on his tongue, an erotic reminder of what else she did so well with her mouth, and managed to push herself to her feet. Circling like a pair of drunks, they stumbled a few steps before coming up hard against the coffee table. With one sweep of his arm, Jude cleared the smooth surface, backing Celia up until she sat down with an unceremonious plop.

Eager now, more than eager, verging on desperate, Celia unfastened his pants and dragged them down his hips, a low hum of anticipation in her throat. His boxers followed, and he tugged his shirt off, leaving him standing there, gloriously naked. She was already leaning forward and taking him into her mouth when he tangled his hands in her hair.

Moaning, Celia ran her tongue around the head of his shaft before sucking him deep into her mouth. Pulling back until just the head rested on her tongue, she flicked it against the underside, causing Jude's hands to tighten in her hair, and his hips to buck slightly. Repeating the motions--the long, slow suckle, the short head flick--Celia closed her eyes and gave herself over to pleasuring him.

After only a short time, much shorter than usual, she heard Jude's breath catch the way it did right before he came. Sure enough, within heartbeats, he exploded in her mouth, and she swallowed thirstily, humming low in her throat. He tasted excellent, as always--not too bitter, not too sweet. Just right.

And to her delight, he was apparently just as fired up as she was. Pulling out of her mouth, still hard, he pushed her all the way back on the coffee table. Her legs fell open naturally, and he moved to stand between them. Reaching down, he took her shirt in his hands and pulled, buttons popping everywhere, making her gasp. The front catch of her bra, the same shade as the now-ruined shirt, was undone in half a second, and before she even registered that he'd moved, he'd bent over and sucked her nipple into his mouth.

Arching her back at the exquisite sensation, Celia grabbed his head and pressed it more firmly against her breast. The man was as talented with his mouth as she was with hers. He knew exactly how much pressure was too much, and how much was enough to have her begging for more. Moving his head to the other breast, he gave it the same treatment, pulling on the nipple gently with his teeth, listening to her whimpers of pleasure.

Their hands tangled together in their rush to get her jeans off, and Jude sent a small prayer of thanksgiving up that she wasn't wearing any underwear. Cupping her ass in his rough hands, he bent his head, and lifted her up at the same time.

When his tongue flicked across her clit, Celia came on a strangled moan. The man had a mouth made for the gods, was all she could think, more than a little dazed. And when he settled down and really got to business, even that lovely little haze blurred. The second time she came, she bit her lip to keep from screaming and disturbing the neighbors. Long minutes later, when he sucked her clit into his mouth and slipped two fingers into her, her climax drained every thought from her mind, even the neighbors.

"Oh, God, oh, God, God."

Flicking her clit with his tongue one last time, Jude laughed low in his throat and slid up her limp body, nipping at the underside of one breast before laying his mouth over hers. "He's a little busy, you'll have to settle for me." And with that, he thrust into her wet heat, biting back a moan of his own. She fit him like a velvet glove, snug enough to feel fantastic, but not so tight that he couldn't be a little rough with her.

Canting her hips up, he dragged her legs up, maneuvering them, and her, until her ankles rested on his shoulders. Now she was so tight, and he was so deep, it verged on painful. Whimpering in the back of her throat, Celia wiggled her hips, not caring that he laughed at her again. "Eager little wench, aren't you?"

Biting back a sob--God, he felt huge at that angle--Celia nodded, all pride gone, reduced to a quivering ball of lust. And then he started to fuck her--nobody would call this making love, or something as plain as sex. Hard, deep thrusts, while he nibbled on her earlobe and whispered dirty things in her ear.

Whore. Wench. I'm gonna fuck you until you can't move. I bet you love that thought, don't you?

When her next orgasm hit, Celia swore that she stopped breathing, it was that strong. And he kept fucking her right through it, until it seemed that she never stopped coming at all. By the time he picked up his pace, his breathing ragged and harsh, Celia was caught on the edge of some incredible plane of pleasure, right at the border before pain.

Thrusting one last time, Jude reached down between their bodies, feeling for her clit. Pinching it between his fingers, he gave out a shout as he felt Celia's body convulse one last time, triggering his own orgasm. It seemed to go on forever, one of the best, if not the best, he'd ever had.

Collapsing on top of her, he slid her ankles off his shoulders, letting her legs fall to the ground. After long minutes, he managed to find the strength to stand up. Slowly, because he was still more than a little weak in the knees, he pulled his clothes on, glancing down at Celia's still form on the coffee table. Once he was dressed, he bent over and brushed his lips against hers in a gentle caress, but with just enough heat to have her stirring weakly and reaching for him.

Easing back, he said, "I'll call you sometime tomorrow." With that, he crossed the room, opening the door and letting himself out.

Celia curled up on the coffee table, still shivering slightly from her last orgasm. She already knew she'd pick up the phone on the first ring.