Chapter Twenty Hudson
CHAPTER TWENTY
Hudson
Ella kisses me like I’m oxygen and she’s in desperate need of air. Plunging her hands into my hair, she pushes my head back and takes control, nipping at my lower lip. Every new touch feels like a revelation, each soft gasp from her lips an affirmation.
With a fierce need to be closer to her, I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her against me, the soft curves of her body fitting perfectly into mine. I’ve been waiting for this for so long now, and God will it be worth it.
We fall back on the bed together and the fabric of her pajama top rides up her thighs as she straddles me, revealing more of the smooth skin beneath. I run my hands up her legs, awed by the feel of her.
My fingers trace the dip of her hip, the curve of her waist, the swell of her chest. Fucking perfect, every last inch.
Her hands move to the hem of my shirt, and I help her pull it over my head. She takes a moment to look at me, eyes bright in the dimly lit room. Her gaze is like an electric charge, sending shocks through my system that pool deep in my gut.
That feeling I had the first night we were together is now amplified tenfold after months of sexual tension.
Soft fingertips dance across my bare chest, tracing the lines of my muscles.
I catch her lower lip between mine, and she gasps softly, more in surprise than pain.
My hands slide under her shirt, brushing against the warm skin of her back.
And then she’s pulling away, sitting up to yank the fabric over her head.
So gorgeous. So completely mine, at least for a while.
I sit up, too, hands automatically reaching out to touch her as our lips meet again.
She knocks me back down, a light push that sends me sprawling on the bed.
She takes advantage of my stunned state, crawling on top of me, straddling my waist. Her dark hair cascades around her, creating a curtain that blocks out everything else.
All I see is her. Ella Davies. The girl with a whole world of color in her eyes.
Her fingers trace down my torso, drawing a line of heat across my skin. My breath hitches as she reaches the waistband of my jeans. She hesitates, glancing up at me through thick lashes. “I hope you’re ready,” she says. “Because I don’t do things by halves.”
I swipe a loose strand of hair from her face. “Oh, darlin’, neither do I.”
My heart thuds against her palm as she unbuttons my jeans with her free hand. My chest rises and falls with shaky breaths, and I grip her hips, a silent plea in my eyes. A promise that this will be worth it.
The room suddenly feels hot, the air almost too thick to breathe.
With a wicked grin, she leans down until our foreheads touch. “You the one that’s nervous now?” she teases, slowly inching down the zipper of my jeans.
A matching grin slides onto my face before I flip her onto her back. “No, you?” I counter, my voice a mere whisper against the shell of her ear.
Her laughter is throaty, rich with amusement. “Not even in your dreams, Fox.”
My lips trace the outline of her jaw, then wander down to the hollow of her throat. A sigh escapes her as I continue my journey, exploring her soft skin with every kiss. I run my fingers down her sides, pressing into the curves of her naked waist.
“I’ll take that as a challenge,” I say, and then our lips crash together, teeth clashing and hands roaming. I nip at her bottom lip, making her gasp again, and use the opportunity to deepen the kiss. The taste of her is just as good as I remember—sweet as sugar, sharp as citrus.
I could kiss her for hours and never once get bored of it. I could spend the rest of this year mapping her skin, learning her reactions, finding the places that make her moan and squirm. And if luck will have it, I might be granted the chance to do just that.
Her fingers are in my hair again, tugging gently, guiding me where she wants me to go.
I fumble with the clasp of her bra, cursing under my breath when it refuses to cooperate.
She chuckles, a soft, sweet sound that warms something deep within me.
Then she reaches behind herself, undoing the clasp before tossing the scrap of lace aside.
I lower my head to press a kiss to her collarbone, sucking gently on the skin there.
She digs deeper into my hair, her back arching off the bed.
I continue my tortuous journey, trailing kisses down her neck and chest until I reach her breasts.
I take one nipple into my mouth, sucking gently, and she lets out a moan that goes straight to my cock.
“You’re not playing fair,” she murmurs.
I just chuckle against her skin. “Yeah, well, I never agreed to that.”
I switch to the other breast. Her hips buck up against mine as I tease and taste her. Eventually, I can’t resist the pull any longer. My hands move lower, skimming over the top of the lacy underwear. She’s wet, and the warmth seeps through to my palm.
“Fuck,” I rasp. “Really missed this pussy.”
She chuckles, and it vibrates under my lips. “What makes you think she missed you?”
My eyes leave the sight of her underneath me to meet her gaze. Hazel eyes glint with mischief, but beneath that there’s a warmth that stirs my heart and tightens my gut. “Just a hunch,” I say.
Her fingers trail down my back, nails scraping lightly against my skin. A shiver runs down my spine. “Still not sure how I feel about your hunches.”
She leans back on her elbows, her laughter morphing into a gasp as I slide her panties to the side, a finger slowly pushing inside of her. I watch her face carefully, looking for any signs of discomfort. But all I see is pleasure, pure and unadulterated.
“Maybe this will change your mind,” I murmur against her skin, my breath fanning over her neck.
Her eyes flutter close and she arches into my touch. The sweet sounds she makes go straight to my already throbbing cock, taunting me. Begging for me to fill her up.
“Yeah, that’s good,” she breathes out, her voice hitching as I curl my finger. I love how vocal she is, how she’s not afraid to express herself, to tell me exactly what she wants. It makes me want to please her even more.
I slide a second finger inside of her, my thumb grazing her clit. Her body responds immediately, her hips shifting, thighs squeezing my forearm. I’m mesmerized by the flicker of pleasure that flashes across her face, every whimper and sigh fueling my own desire.
She’s already so wet, so ready for me, and I have to fight against the urge to bury myself deep inside her. But I manage to exert some semblance of self-control.
Taking my time, I tease and stroke until she’s a writhing mess under me. “You want me to use my tongue, baby? Lick you the way I did that first night?”
“No, I just … I want you to just …”
I suck just below her ear, nipping at the sensitive skin of her neck, plunging my fingers so deep inside of her. And when I pull back, I say, “You want me to just fuck you, don’t you?”
She bites down on her lower lip, her hazel eyes half-lidded and clouded with lust. “Yes,” she whispers.
My fingers stop their incessant teasing to grip her hips securely, pulling her closer to me. “Then that’s what I’ll do.”
I grin at her, unable to resist stealing another kiss before I pull my fingers from her. She whines at the loss of contact. I hastily remove my pants and sheath myself with a condom. And when I grip my cock, aligning myself with her entrance, that little whine of hers turns into a keen.
“Are you ready?” I ask hoarsely, even though I know she is. But I need to hear her say it, to confirm my gut instincts are right. Her answer is immediate, a breathless “Yes” that sets my veins thrumming.
I push into her slowly, savoring the feel of her body welcoming me in. She gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders. It’s a delicious kind of pain, and it makes me want to lose myself in her.
“You okay, Ella?” I murmur against her ear, pausing to let her adjust.
Her eyes open, and then narrow. “Stop that.”
I rear back. “What?”
“Using my name in sentences where it’s not necessary,” she says, snapping at me. “Using my name when you’re fully inside of me, being all caring and shit.” She shakes her head, clenches her thighs around my hips. “Honestly, don’t do that if you’re not in love with me.”
I toss my head back and laugh. “Fucking hell. Okay,” I say as I stare down at her. “That’s fine, sweetheart. I won’t say your name.”
“Thank you.” She grins, looking far too satisfied with herself. Her hands move from my shoulders down to my ass. She grips me, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to my groin.
“No worries,” I say, leaning down to kiss her but stopping just short of her lips. “Anything else you need, babe ?”
“Yes,” she whispers, her voice throaty and full of anticipation. “I need you to move.”
Her legs tighten around me as I brace myself above her. My hips jerk, deep and purposeful, filling her so completely. She meets each of my thrusts with a bite of her bottom lip and a roll of her hips.
It’s another game we’ve fallen into—give and take, push and pull.
Each plunge is matched with a whimper, each retreat with a sigh. Sweat rains down our bodies. Instead of picking up the pace, I angle myself deeper inside her, hitting that sweet spot that has her crying out. Her body clenches around me, pulsing and hot, and I know she’s close.
“Tell me when,” I whisper, my gaze locked onto hers as my strokes become slower, more deliberate.
She clings onto me, wordlessly begging as her breaths come out in ragged pants. Her eyes are hazy with a desperation that matches my own. I hold out for as long as I can, until the anticipation is too much and we’re at the edge together.
“Now,” she gasps, a choked-out plea.
I pull out of her, flip her onto her stomach, hike her up by the hips, and thrust back into her from behind. She cries out, her voice a raw sound of pure satisfaction that nearly undoes me. She buries her face into the pillow, muffling the sounds that only seem to be growing louder.
“Fuck,” I groan out, my voice strained. The sight of her—face buried in the pillow, back arched up to meet my every thrust—is too much. It’s raw and primal, and I can’t get enough of it.
“Harder,” she demands.
She’s wild beneath me, meeting each of my thrusts with equal fervor. The familiar tight coil begins to unravel inside me.
“I’m … God, Ella … I’m …” My voice trails off as pleasure overwhelms my senses, making it impossible to complete the sentence. But she seems to understand, her body convulsing beneath me, signaling her climax.
The world comes rushing back in a wave of color and sound. I collapse on top of her, our bodies tangling together on the sheets. Ella’s chest is heaving, and I’m barely hanging on myself.
I manage to roll off to the side, pulling her with me so she’s tucked against my body. Our legs intertwine as we let the silence envelop us.
“You alright?” I ask after a few long moments.
“No,” she murmurs.
I shift, brow furrowed as I visually search every last inch of her body. “What did I do wrong?” I ask, heart thumping in my chest as I run a hand through her sweat-damp hair, pulling it away from her forehead.
She closes her eyes. “You said my name again.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Unfortunately, a common hazard in the workplace.”
She cracks a lazy smile, her eyes still closed. “Mmm, don’t think you can get away with it that easily.”
“Was just an accident,” I protest, the corner of my mouth twitching up in a half-grin as my hand trails down to the small of her back. “Besides, from the first night we spent together … I seem to recall a different set of rules.
“Things have changed.”
“Or maybe,” I muse aloud, pulling her closer so she’s flush against me, “I’ve got you real worried.”
She opens one eye, gives me a skeptical look. “About?”
“The sex is just too good between us. You might get obsessed.”
Her hazel eyes narrow at me. “You’re awfully confident.”
“Well,” I reply, moving a stray piece of hair from her face, “I do happen to be quite good at what I do. Football, cheer …”
“Okay, I’ll give you that,” she concedes before pressing a soft kiss to my chest. “But only because I’m too damn tired to argue.”
“You know what?” I ask with a laugh. “I’ll take it.”