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And this time, he thrusts into me. He’s big. I know that from touching him, but when he’s pushing his way into me, stretching me wide, filling me, it’s a different story. And I’m in heaven.
All words slip away as he pulls my legs up high, so he can thrust hard and deep into me. Inside, I’m coming apart. Each time he slams into me is a revelation and I’m moaning and clutching and moving my hips up to take more of him. I want it all. Everything.
The fullness, the being joined, and it’s more than that. It’s like coming to a home I never knew I had or needed. And I bite his shoulder to stop from screaming again. He moves faster and inside I’m a tornado of flaming desire. I’m being consumed. Stretched. Opened. Taken.
And the need builds. The tension, the pleasure, starts to combust and then I’m just gone. A cascading firestorm of absolute pleasure as I come, my body convulsing and clamping down on his, over and over again. I’m flying high, I’m nothing but this. And I give over to those waves of heaven.
Finally, I start to come down and Hudson’s still thrusting into me. Harder, now. Faster. No control as he’s getting close and he’s making me come all over again.
I’m rolling with it. It’s too much. I’m out of control and I can’t find anything but him to cling to and I feel him come and he shudders in my arms, his body emptying into mine, and he kisses me hard as he does so.
Finally, he slumps down. And I’m too exhausted to do anything but wrap my arms and legs around him, with him still inside me, and close my eyes.
That was worth the world.
We have sex three more times. Once so hard I thought the bed would break, another slow and languid and eye-rollingly sensual. And another so filthy I could come again just thinking about it.
I can’t sleep.
Hudson is. He’s got one arm thrown over me and I’ve been watching him for what feels like forever, and I could do it for another forever, too.
But I can’t.
As all the pleasure and the need has now been satiated, with it comes the commonsense hangover.
I might have justified things to myself before we did all that naked salsa-ing, but how can I now? I came here to tell him the truth now instead of later, when things got complicated.
And now things were definitely complicated.
It’s struck me at some point in the last small forever of watching him sleep, the long lashes that dust against his cheeks, the stubble, the softness to his features that isn’t there when he’s awake, the little huffling snore he makes, that slides into me and warms me down to the toes, it’s struck me that I’ve let things go way too far.
I’m in way too deep with the lies. They might be white, but there are a lot of them and they’re growing, and I worry, now we’ve done that, he won’t see it as something small that got out of hand, but something else entirely.
Something darker.
Something he’ll want to take revenge on.
I’ve let things go on and on and on by essentially lying to him every moment of the day.
Slowly, I slide out from under his embrace, careful not to wake him.
The room around me is in darkness, but there’s enough light from the window to show me where I am.
A big bedroom. It’s not what I expected. It’s definitely got money and quality all over it. But it’s simple and masculine and comfortable. It’s not trying to be anything but what it is, a bedroom with a king-size bed, a bookcase on one wall, and a sofa under the window. There are a couple of plants too. He never struck me as a plant guy, but maybe it’s his interior decorator. Although I don’t think one did this room. It feels utterly Hudson in a way I can’t exactly explain.
I’m standing, naked, writing a soliloquy in my head to his bedroom.
With a shake of my head, I find my clothes and pull them on, heading out the door. There’s a staircase straight ahead, past all the other doors and the elevator, and I head to that.
I need to get out of here, get home, and think about what to do next.
My hand is on the railing, when a floorboard creaks behind me and Hudson speaks.
“Going somewhere?”
Chapter Seventeen
Hudson
