Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
HUDSON
“ Y ou started a fire,” Juliette’s voice breaks into my trance. I turn around to see her with a towel wrapped around her chest.
“Yes. And I found a liquor chest.”
“I see,” she says. “I wanted to see if you want to take your shower. There are two more towels unused.”
“Yeah, sure, why not,” I say and hand her the rum bottle. “Watch over my fire, alright.”
“Alright, Sir,” she says. I don’t walk away immediately. I watch her for a while. The light from the flames casts her in a glorious glow. The towel is short and doesn’t cover much of her body. It extends from the lower region of her breast and to her upper thigh. Her eyes drink mine in. She doesn’t shy away. She doesn’t cough. She just stares at me. I can see the longing in her eyes, the urge, the hunger. Can she see them in my mine also?
“I better get into the bathroom,” I say, breaking the connection.
“Yeah, you better do that.”
I walk away from her and immediately head into the bathroom. It takes me about fifteen minutes to take my shower, and I come out, wrapping one of the towels around myself. I see that she’s moved some cushions to the floor so she can sit comfortably. There is also another glass for me.
“Hey!” she says, calling at me. “I thought we’d get comfortable before the fire. It’s a really nice fire.”
I join her. There is a silent communication between us. We pass it without using words. We are both in towels, drinking alcohol, sitting in front of a fire. It’s a precedent to dangerous things. The thing, judging by the look on her face, what we both hunger for. I had tried to distract myself, to find relief someplace else, but yet, here I am again, hungry for her.
This is dangerous, we both know.
We should retire to the bedroom. We both know.
But we don’t move.
I grab the glass from the floor.
“Pour me some, will you?”
“Gladly,” Juliette says with a chuckle.
We quickly finish the first bottle, and I move to open the next one. I can feel the effect of the alcohol spreading through my nerves, calming me, relaxing me.
“You know about my dad. I don’t know about yours,” I say as I pour Juliette another round. “It’s only fair if you tell me about yours.”
“There’s not much to tell you about my dad. He died a long time ago, when I was a child, so I never knew him; I have a single memory of him, and it was of him lifting me up and singing to me. We stood by the window, watching the rain together. That was it.”
“I’m sorry,” I find myself saying.
“For what?”
“You didn’t get to know your father. I think everyone should get to know their father. That’s a relationship that can’t be replicated. I know my father wasn’t the best man, but he was my father, and I loved him. I learned a lot from him. He taught me how to be a man, and there are lessons I got from him that I’ll transfer to my kids.”
“You want to have kids?” she asks, eyeing me skeptically.
“What? I don’t look like I want to have kids?”
“I don’t know. I never pegged you as someone who wants kids.”
“You don’t know me that well.”
“We don’t know each other that well,” she amends.
We sit and watch each other in silence for a while. The tension between us gradually intensifies, moving from subtle want to roaring hunger. We’ve delayed and waited, but there is no denying what we both want now.
We’ve exhausted the small talk, and now, we find ourselves here.
“Come here,” I tell her. For a moment, I think she’ll be the wiser of the two of us and decline my invitation. But she doesn’t decline. She sets her empty glass down and glides across the floor to me.
Now that she’s closer, I can see her skin better, the amber light from the fire casting a soft, deep, and sensual glow on her. I know this is the right choice. I place my hands on her cheeks, and she rubs against them, her skin warm and inviting.
There’s still time to stop this. One of us only has to move away. I pull her face towards mine, so her lips are just inches away. They’re red and inviting, and I can feel her breath mingling with mine. I don’t kiss her immediately. Instead, I let my palm fall to her chin and then use my thumb to part her lips. She opens them up for me, and when I finally kiss her, I slide my tongue in first. Juliette welcomes me with a moan, her body, which feels taut to my touch, relaxing instantly. She falls like a deck of cards, totally letting herself go. I pull her closer now, and the towel she has wrapped around her body slips open. She makes no effort to cover herself. She’s too busy warring with my tongue inside her mouth, her hands clutching at my shoulders, pulling me closer.
This feels better than I could have ever imagined. I want more of her, need more of her. I wish she could melt and fuse with me so we could become one, our pleasure aligning in a perfect symphony. I want her to feel how much I’ve hungered for her, how much I need her. My cock is rock hard, straining painfully against my towel, begging for release. But beyond the hunger, I want her to feel how much I want to please her, to make her body vibrate with unending pleasure.
She pulls away from me and looks into my eyes. Her gaze is heated, desperate, telling me that she wants me just as much as I want her, if not more. But I want to savor this moment—not because I fear it might not happen again, but because I want more out of it.
I don’t want her to be just another girl in the long line of girls I’ve fucked. I want to make love to her. I want to make love with her.
She tugs at my towel with her finger until it comes off, and then she moves to pull it away from me, but I stop her.
“Why?” she groans, her voice hoarse with hunger. “I need you,” she confesses to me.
“I need you too,” I tell her. “But wait.”
She doesn’t look satisfied, but I know that’s about to change. I help her out of the towel, and she’s finally naked before me, her skin glowing in the firelight. She shyly covers herself, crossing her arms over her breasts and closing her thighs.
“I want to see you,” I tell her, but she doesn’t pull her arms apart, not until I tug at her hands a little. Then, she lets them fall to her side, revealing herself to me completely. Her breasts, which I have longed to see without any covering, are open to my gaze. I hold her left breast in my hand. It’s full and tender, the skin soft under my touch. I run my finger over her nipple, causing her to tremble with pleasure.
“Do you like that?” I ask her, a teasing tone in my voice.
“Stop it,” she says with a chuckle, playfully pushing my hand away. But I catch her nipple in my mouth next, sucking on it and running my tongue over it repeatedly. She loses herself to me, her fingers combing through my hair, urging me on. Her skin, so supple and warm, motivates me even more. I want to touch every part of her, to kiss every inch of her, to make her mine completely.
Easy there, tiger, I tell myself.
I shift my focus back to Juliette, who is writhing with pleasure under my touch. I move to her other breast, rolling the wet nipple between my fingers while I lavish attention on the other. Now, she’s moaning uncontrollably, her voice louder, more desperate, pleading for more. I don’t chastise her to keep it quiet or worry that our host will hear her cries.
I want them to.