Chapter Twenty-Three Ella
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ella
I follow Hudson inside the dark house, his hand resting comfortably on the small of my back. His thumb makes absentminded circles on my bare skin as we head up the stairs together. It heats me up, thrills me from the outside in.
When we reach his room, he opens the door and flicks on the switch, stepping aside to let me enter first.
It’s neat, tidier in here than it has been the last few times I came over.
It’s like he purposefully cleaned up for the party, though he’d probably deny it if I ever mentioned it.
His bed is made, his clothes stowed in the wardrobe.
A couple of textbooks lay on the desk, their bookmarks sticking out from various chapters.
It’s all very Hudson.
And then, there’s Sourdough—perched on the windowsill and sporting a tiny green alien hat.
I giggle and move closer, extending a tentative hand toward him.
He half-opens a sleepy eye and meows, stretching lazily before padding up to us.
I carefully pick him up, my eyes meeting Hudson’s as he watches us with a soft, bemused expression.
“Look at you in your little hat,” I coo, scratching the cat under his chin. “This is easily the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
A slow smirk lights up Hudson’s face. “What do I have to do to get you to say that about me?”
“I just gave you a compliment earlier,” I say. “Don’t be greedy.”
Sourdough jumps from my hands, slinking away. “Greedy,” he echoes. “When it comes to you, I’m downright selfish.”
I blink at him, but before I can question his words, he’s already moving closer. His hands find my waist, pulling me flush to him. My heart stutters, my breath hitching in my throat.
He’s so very close, and it’s making the rational part of my brain short-circuit. All I can do is stare at him, lost in those gray eyes of his—darker and more intense than I’ve ever seen them.
“I was thinking we might try something,” he says, low and slow. His fingers trace the brim of my hat, and then he tosses it onto his dresser behind me.
“We only have a few minutes before everyone arrives.”
He licks his lips. “They won’t miss me too much.”
“And what if they miss me?”
“How many people do you know that are coming?”
I scoff. “All the cheerleaders, for one.”
“So, about a dozen people who were invited, give or take. People that you already see on a near-daily basis.”
I try and fail to muster a pointed glare. “Who would miss me very much if I were to spontaneously disappear.”
He laughs. “Second time you’ve accused me of a crime tonight. Is that what you think my idea entails? Holding you hostage up in my room?”
“Wouldn’t be too far-fetched.”
He encircles a hand around my forearm. “And you wouldn’t like that?”
“Depends on what I get out of it.”
“I could make you come a few times,” he says. “Beat our record.”
A flush of heat creeps up my neck, but I want to make his eyes go wide tonight, turn the tables so that he’s the one blushing this time. I want my power back.
“I’ll raise you one better,” I say, shaking his hand loose and pressing my palms flat against his chest. “I bet I can make you come before the first guests arrive.”
There’s a stunned silence as the words hang between us, but I refuse to look away from his shocked expression. And then, slowly, he smiles. “You’re on,” he murmurs.
As I push him back towards the bed, a shaky breath staggers out of him. His eyes are filled with heat. It’s clear he wants me just as much as I want him.
“Just sit back and enjoy,” I tell him. My hands roam over his chest, tracing each muscle through the thin fabric of his shirt. He gulps, eyes flicking down to watch my hands as they move lower.
“I’ve never been very good at sitting back and taking it easy,” he says roughly.
“I figured,” I say, looking up to meet his gaze. I press closer, our bodies aligning perfectly. “But you can be a good boy for me tonight, can’t you? The kind who does as he’s told?”
His lips part, but before he can get another word out, I push him firmly onto the edge of the bed. He sinks into the mattress as I straddle his lap, catching a low gasp. He eagerly grips my waist, fingers digging into the fabric of my jeans. Warm breath fans across my chest as his head drops back.
He’s still wearing his cowboy hat, the brim askew. I reach up and pluck it from his head, tucking it beside him on the bed. His hair is a wild mess underneath, and I smooth it back, fingers tracing along his scalp as I go.
The man is undeniably handsome. Rugged and charming. I’d like to show him how much I appreciate it.
“I thought you liked the hat,” he says.
“Oh, I do, but I don’t want to miss that look on your face. The desperate one you get right when you’re about to let yourself go.”
Warm breath fans across my chest as his head drops back. I catch sight of his exposed neck, thick and inviting. Unable to resist, I bend down to press a kiss to the sensitive skin just there, earning myself an appreciative groan.
I pull back slightly to look at him, heart thrumming. His eyes flutter open, locking with mine, and a visible shiver runs through his body as his grip tightens on my waist.
“Baby,” he says, struggling to keep his voice steady. His hands slide up to cup my face, thumbs tracing over the apples of my cheeks. “I’ll try my best to behave.”
“Good boy.”
I drop to my knees between his open thighs, relishing the sound of his sharp intake of breath. His hands drop down to my shoulders, gripping tightly as if he’s trying to hold himself together. It’s a futile effort. I’ve already unraveled him—and we’re only just getting started.
I start with his belt, undoing it with a dexterity that makes him groan.
His trousers quickly follow, discarded on the floor in a mess of denim and leather.
I glance up at him through my lashes, taking in his flushed face and the way his chest rises and falls with ragged breaths.
He’s watching me—every movement, every expression.
If he wasn’t so distracted, he might’ve noticed the flash of victory in my eyes as I work him free, nimbly removing his boxers.
I’m well aware of the control I have over him now, and I’m not about to waste it.
As he lies there panting, his fingers gripping the sheets beneath him like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded, I take a moment to appreciate the sight.
It’s not just the physical aspect that has me hooked, although that certainly doesn’t hurt.
It’s the anticipation in his eyes, the raw, unfiltered need. It makes me feel empowered. What’s more, it makes me feel connected to him in a way that’s uniquely ours.
“Holy fuck,” he whispers.
His fingers dig into my shoulders as I make him squirm, silently urging me to continue.
I respond by pressing the flat of my hand against his lower stomach, feeling the muscles beneath the smooth skin contract at my touch.
He bucks upward involuntarily, but I hold him down, keeping him in complete submission.
“Patience,” I murmur, dragging a single finger along the thickest vein. “It’s worth the wait.”
He moans something incoherent and closes his eyes, leaning his head back on the pillows. Sweat beads on his forehead and dampens his dark hair. I allow myself another lingering glance, drinking in the sight before I take him fully into my mouth.
And then I suck his dick like I’ve never sucked one before—sloppy and eager. He groans loudly, his hands fisting in my hair, but I don’t mind. It’s all part of the challenge, right? And I’m nothing if not competitive.
A guttural groan tears from his throat as I continue to work him over, my movements swift and confident. His thighs tremble beneath me, muscles straining to hold himself still.
The sight of him—so strong and powerful, brought trembling to the edge by me—stokes the fire in my belly, heating me from the inside out. I want more of this. More of him unraveled under my touch. More of Hudson, full stop.
But right now, we simply don’t have the time.
I’m determined to win this bet. So much so that I’m willing to sacrifice my own desires to make it happen.
With one last flourish of my tongue along his tip, I push him over the edge.
His whole body tenses as he comes in my mouth, but I keep going, not stopping until every last tremor subsides and his grip on my hair loosens.
“Holy shit,” he gasps out, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.
His eyes are still closed, long eyelashes fanned down across his cheeks.
He looks a little dazed but satisfied as he slowly recovers.
And then, like a man who didn’t just have his world rocked, he says, “You lost, by the way.”
I stand and swallow, swiping a thumb along my bottom lip. “Sorry?”
“The bet,” he says. “I can hear Harlen yelling out back.”
I frown at him. “You’re serious?”
“You bet that I would come before the first guest arrived.” He pushes onto his hands, straightens his spine, and shrugs. “I hate to break it to you, but Harlen’s definitely here already.”
I slump onto the edge of the bed, huffing out a laugh. “You were holding out.”
He just smirks, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Don’t get me wrong, that was incredible work. But you should’ve known better than to bet against me.”
I roll my eyes, but inside I’m grinning like a fool. “You’ve got to be the most competitive person in the world. You know that, right?”
He chuckles. “When it comes to you, I always play to win.”
“That’s rubbish,” I say, and he just laughs louder, grins wider, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Aren’t you supposed to let me win?”
“You don’t need anyone to let you win, Davies,” he says. “You’d hate that.”
“Like you’d even know,” I grumble under my breath, and he chooses to ignore it. Instead, he pulls me towards him, pops a kiss on my temple. He tucks himself back into his boxers and jeans, repositions his hat, and offers me a hand up.
“Come on,” he says, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Let’s get out there before those friends of yours send a search party.”
I groan at the thought of facing the crowd in my current state. I can still taste him on my tongue, still feel the echoes of his body against mine. But I’m the one who pushed us to be quick, and I could surely use a drink or three to cool myself down.
“Give me a second,” I say, slipping into his en suite. As I clean the mascara streaks from under my eyes, my reflection catches me off guard. My eyes are shimmering, my cheeks tinged with color—I definitely look like I’ve been up to something very, very naughty.
After a few quick adjustments to my hair and a fresh swipe of lipstick, I spritz a little perfume on my wrists. Now looking less like I’ve just come from a quickie, I rejoin Hudson.
He does a careful sweep of the house, checking for whatever it is he always checks for, and then we head out towards the back garden together.
As we walk, he keeps his arm loosely draped around my waist, fingers just touching the hem of my tiny crop top.
We pass through the open French doors leading to the garden, where the twinkle of fairy lights and soft sounds of chatter mingle with the music.
The party is in full swing and I take in the scene with a smile, my heart strangely full at the sight. A few of my teammates are standing over by the drink table. When they catch sight of us, Ash—who’s wearing an open denim vest and matching light-wash jeans—raises a red Solo cup in our direction.
Hudson’s fingers tighten at my waist as if to anchor himself. But as we approach the heart of the gathering, he lets his hand fall away. It’s a subtle withdrawal, yet it feels as though he’s put miles between us.
I’m instantly reminded that we’re not here as a couple. This isn’t a date, and there’s no need for him to feel obligated to stick by my side just because we’re hooking up.
I turn to him. “Right, well, guess I’ll see you around, Woody.”
His eyes hold mine for a beat longer than necessary. Then, with a quick blink that softens his gaze, he raises his hand to the brim of his hat, tipping it. “I’ll be seeing ya, Jessie.”
I wipe my palms down the sides of my shorts, an attempt to brush off my awkwardness. Then, with a bounce in my step that I force into existence, I skip over to my friends. No lingering glances back, no words left hanging in the air. Just two people coming together and then drifting apart.
So why is it that, despite all this, I can’t shake the feeling that I’d much rather be by his side?