23. Hudson
Chapter 23
Hudson
“ A re we still talking about the game?” Giselle asks so sweetly, making the back of my teeth ache.
I smile, showing her my pearly white teeth. If I try hard enough, I can recall the phantom taste of her on my tongue. It’s enough to satiate me.
For now.
“Obviously,” I answer, ignoring the kick of my cock in my trousers. “Get your head out of the gutter, Giselle.”
The narrowing of her eyes, paired with the grin on her lips, is nothing short of feral.
I’ve started something here and I’m more than intrigued to see what Giselle will do next.
I wait for a barbed insult, maybe even something a little tongue in cheek, but when she stays silent, eyes firmly on me, her throat bobbing delicately with a swallow of her coffee flavoured cocktail, I feel my blood rise even further to the surface.
My balls ache, the base of my cock throbbing in protest, practically begging me to fit inside of her. To feel the tight, wet squeeze of her around me, milking me dry
This competitive foreplay we have going on between us – this push and pull and push again, that’s been sparking between us since day one – only serving to turn me on until I can barely think straight.
Giselle has me snared hook, line and sinker.
And I wouldn’t want it any other way.
“What, no come back?” I can’t help but push, relishing in the way her spine straightens even further.
I watch as Giselle’s slim fingers tighten around the circumference of her golf club, before she tips forward, pressing her chest into mine until I have to grab onto her waist to stop us both from toppling over.
“You want to be careful I don’t eat you alive first,” she whispers in my ear, leaving behind a smear of the gloss which coats her lips enticingly, marking me, and then stepping away to take her second shot as if nothing is out of the ordinary.
As if she hasn’t just sent a fresh rush of blood to my already hard cock, as if she hasn’t wound me up tight like a drum.
Even if she isn’t willing to show her cards to me, Giselle forgets I’ve come to be able to read her like a book in the past two months since we’ve been getting to know each other.
As she takes her shot, I focus on the way her leather trousers highlight the squeeze of her thighs.
I’m willing to bet everything I have to my name that’s she’s wet for me.
I know I’m right when she misses the first hole, even though she was inches away from it in the first place and turns back to me with a roll of her eyes.
“That was your fault.”
I place the neck of my cold beer to my lips. “My fault?”
“Uh huh. You’re distracting me, Hudson Millen.”
Jesus. I fucking love the sound of my name in her mouth.
“ I’m distracting you ? You started this. You’re the one whose nipples are saluting me right now.” I pointedly stare down at the two hard bullets poking through the thin material of her top. “I think if it’s anybody distracting; it’s you , Giselle.”
We play around the golf course in pretty much the same manner; ribbing at each other in between pockets of conversation, laughing until our stomachs hurt and touching one another whenever we get a free moment.
I’d love nothing more than to capture her lips, run my tongue along the edge of hers and devour her whole.
But we’ve got an audience, who, have already been subjected to enough of an eyeful tonight after I squeezed Giselle’s arse in celebration when I made a hole-in-one…
Followed by a pretty crude joke I made much at her expense.
The playful way her eyes rolled backwards, and she swatted at my upper bicep, told me she didn’t really mind.
By the time we make it to the ninth and final hole, there’s only two points between Giselle and me. I’m leading, but only just.
Not that I’m all that surprised. Giselle’s natural competitive nature means it’s basically her own grit and determination keeping her on my tail.
I watch as Giselle’s golf ball falls short of making it onto the ledge of the last obstacle – an old-fashioned water mill – turning towards me with her tongue pressed into the fleshy portion of her cheek in irritation.
“What was that about eating me alive first, Gee?” I taunt with a smirk, coaxing her lips to fall further into a sweet pout.
I think she’s trying for a ‘looks could kill’ expression, but it’s falling rather flat.
“There’s still time yet, Millen,” she retorts, toying with the thin stem of her now empty cocktail glass.
Smirking so hard my cheeks are starting to ache, I square my shoulders and my hips, swinging my golf club once, twice, a third time, before I make contact with the ball. It thwacks , landing perfectly onto one of the wooden ledges of the water mill, which carries my ball onto the other side of the turf, depositing it a metre or so away from the hole.
Giselle scowls as I shrug innocently, stepping away so she can take my place.
It takes four more attempts for Giselle to make it onto the other side of the obstacle, by which I’ve already putted my ball and scored myself as the winner.
“I need another drink,” Giselle utters, moving to stalk off the fake turf and hand her golf club back into the used bin, but she doesn’t move fast enough, leaving me just enough space to duck two fingers under her chin, bringing her lips to mine.
“Don’t be such a sore loser, Gee,” I hear myself coo over the obnoxiously loud pop music. “There’ll be other times for you to win—”
She just about sinks her teeth into my bottom lip, nipping harder than necessary.
I tip my head back and laugh, wrapping my arm around her shoulders as she steers us back towards the bar.
“Laugh it up.” Her blue eyes, lined with some sort of black liner, flash towards me as she peers up from the drink’s menu in her manicured hands. “Because you won’t be laughing for much longer.”
Raising my eyebrows, I grin at her. “I’ll believe it when I see it, Giselle. You’re all bark and no bite.”
She turns to the woman behind the bar. “A strawberry daquiri, please.” And then back to me. “Just you watch, Millen. You’ll be choking on those words before you know it.”
W e share a jumbo-sized plate of nachos, drenched in cheese sauce, salsa, sour cream and fresh guacamole, sitting on two high bar stools, while I sip on another iced cold beer and Giselle sips demurely on her strawberry flavoured cocktail.
Gathering another chunk of cut up tomato onto a triangle shaped crisp, I squeeze Giselle’s upper thigh, a pang of warmth tap dancing across my heart when she lays her head on my shoulder in response.
“Did I do good?” I ask, needing to hear her answer.
“Good at what?”
“Planning our date. Surprising you.”
Giselle lifts her head, those eyes of hers capturing every inch of my attention. I never want to look away from her, but when she looks at me like she’s doing right now, as if she can see right into my soul, I find my heart begin to pick up speed, the connection between us sparking with electricity and desire and respect.
“You did so good, Hudson.” She smiles softly. “I’ve loved every second of it.”
Once we’ve cleared the plate of food, even the jalapenos – much to Giselle’s shake of her head, as I offer her a bite of the spicy food – we slip off the stools.
Giselle’s hand slips into mine as if it’s made to fit there, allowing me to lead her through the throng of people swinging miniature golf clubs and into the back of a taxi.
London, dusted in bright golden lights pass us by as we drive past. Pools of amber, dripping from the streetlamps, lay in circles on the cool concrete pavement, lighting the way. While the Thames shines a reflection of the architecture standing proudly on either side of its enormous banks, murky and depthless, so dark hardly a colour has been invented to describe it, from centuries of use.
I stroke the pad of my thumb over the soft valleys of Giselle’s knuckles, along the cold, but smooth, surface of the plain gold ring she wears.
I’ve come to notice that it’s the only jewellery she wears on her fingers.
“I like this,” I say, catching her attention from where she’d been watching London whizz by us. “It suits you.”
“Thank you,” she all but whispers. “Do you think so?”
I nod.
“Maybe I’ll have to go shopping for another ring soon, then, because I don’t think I’ll be wearing this one for much longer, do you?”
I feel my brows knit together in confusion. “Why? What’s wrong with one—”
“I bought it for myself when I decided to become celibate. It’s my celibacy ring. I promised myself I would wear it for as long as I wasn’t having sex…but I think that’s going to be changing soon, don’t you?”
It takes a second for Giselle’s words to filter into my brain, settling there as I grasp her meaning.
“You’ve never taken it off as long as you’ve been…”
Giselle shakes her head. “Nope.”
I glide my thumb over the gold ring again, this time with more purpose.
Something so small, so plain, something I’ve looked at so many times, it’s so easy to miss… and yet it means something huge to Giselle.
Swallowing thickly, I raise Giselle’s left hand to my mouth, pressing my lips to her celibacy ring. Not once do my eyes leave hers, cataloguing the sweet pink blush building in her cheeks and the shutter of her lashes as she stares right back at me.
My skin prickles with the intensity, the electricity between us crackling. The air in the back of our London taxi becomes stifling, attraction and reverence bursting between us.
There’s no doubt about it; I can’t wait to tear Giselle’s clothes off of her tight body. To taste her again, but this time in my bed, my sheets clenched between her fists. To feel her tight cunt milking my cock, while I play with her clit, finding just the right way she likes to be touched.
But there’s something building inside of me other than lust.
I’m not sure it’s something I can name because it’s not something I’ve felt before.
It’s not something I’ve ever let myself feel before.
I admire Giselle in a way I’ve never admired anyone other than my parents or my brothers before. I respect her, I care about what she thinks, I care about her opinion, I care about her happiness and not just my own.
It’s a strange, unfamiliar feeling.
But it’s not uncomfortable. It isn’t burrowing into my bones making me feel on edge and wound up.
No. Instead, it feels warm, like it’s always been there, hiding away until the time was right.
“That’ll be ten-pound, fifty, mate.” The taxi driver pulls the car to the curb, lowering the privacy partition and peering over his shoulder slightly to look at me.
Too busy trying to wiggle my wallet out of my trouser pocket, I miss as Giselle unlocks her phone, tapping the device to the card reader which beeps in acceptance of her payment.
“Thanks, darlin’.” The cabbie grins, handing over her receipt.
“What did I tell you, Gee?” I step out into the cold night, feeling the wind nip at the tip of my nose.
“I don’t know.” She plays dumb, her heels making contact with the ground as she steps out of the taxi inches behind me. “What did you tell me, Hudson?”
I don’t know if it’s the sound of my name on her tongue, or the tone of her voice – dripping with disobedience and play – but I’m closing the back door to the taxi and then pressing her up against it, uncaring what the taxi driver thinks.
“You know exactly what I told you.” I press my lips to hear ear, relishing in the shiver I feel course through her body. Inhaling deeply, I touch the cold tip of my nose to her soft neck, bottling up the smell of the dot of perfume still coating her skin, while hearing Giselle gasp gently. “When we’re out, it’s my money we use. I pay. Those are the rules, and you know it, Giselle… and I never had you for much of a rule breaker.”
Her chest rises unsteadily, breasts brushing against the front of my coat.
I don’t know what I expect, but it certainly isn’t for Giselle to hook her finger into the loop of my scarf, pulling me until our faces are level and she can reach the shell of my ear easily.
“Well, you’re wrong, Hudson. I’m not a good girl and I certainly don’t follow the rules… what you do about that, is up to you.”
I raise a brow, my cock beginning to throb in my boxers. “Up to me, huh?”
“Uh huh.” Giselle nods, those top teeth of hers sinking into her plush, ruby red coated, bottom lip. “If I hadn’t made it clear before… I’m yours to do whatever you please with, Hudson. Punishment and reward.”