7. Hudson
HUDSON
The morning sun is barely up, and I’m already pacing the floors. My nerves are like live wires, pulled so tight it feels like I might snap. My mouth is bone-dry, bitter with regret, and the lingering taste of last night’s wine.
Hers.
Ivory’s.
Still sweet on my tongue from when I kissed her, tasted her sweet lips.
It’s sharp and addictive, still clinging to my taste buds like something forbidden I’d sell my soul to have again.
Every second since, my mind has played the whole scene over and over.
The way her breath stuttered when she came for me, her eyes going soft and wild, her nails digging into my skin like I was the only thing anchoring her to this world.
I should feel like a fucking bastard. And I do.
But it doesn’t matter.
Not when all I can think about is how much I want her again. How every woman before her suddenly feels like practice for this moment, like I’ve been starving my whole life without knowing it until now.
She hasn’t come out of her room yet. I keep glancing at her door, counting the minutes.
I want to see her, touch her, make sure she’s real.
I want to know if she regrets what happened between us.
If she’s scared of me now. If she wants more.
I’m not sure what I’d do if she looked at me with regret, if she told me it was all a mistake.
I’d probably lose it.
Hurt someone.
Break something.
Hell, probably myself before anyone else.
Room service arrives with two silver trays, linen napkins, the whole nine yards. I sign for it, tip the guy, and start uncovering the plates. My jaw tightens when I see it: a bowl of dry fruit, two hard-boiled eggs, black coffee, and a note in Malinda Ashford’s perfect, looping script.
Remember, Ivory, discipline is beauty. No sweets, no carbs. You know what’s expected. Don’t embarrass us tonight.
My fists curl so tight the note crumples in my grip.
My vision blurs red at the edges. I want to storm down to her parents’ suite and shove this note down her mom’s throat.
The idea of anyone, especially Ivory’s own mother, making her feel small, less than, and unworthy makes me want to tear the world apart.
She’s perfect as she is. God, she’s more than perfect. She’s fucking radiant.
I check the other trays, hoping for something better.
Nope.
There’s a normal breakfast for me: eggs, bacon, and a pile of toast. Guilt twists in my gut.
I swap one of my plates with hers, piling extra bacon onto her tray, and drowning the dry eggs in butter.
If she wants fruit, fine, but she’s eating real food this morning, even if I have to force-feed her myself.
I toss the note in the trash. Out of sight, out of mind.
I’m sitting at the table, my coffee already getting cold, when I hear her door creak open. My heart lodges somewhere in my throat, preparing for the worst.
She steps out, blinking and looking hot as hell with her hair stuck to her head, tangled and messy, skin glowing.
She’s wearing a pair of tiny cotton shorts and a tank top.
My mouth is already watering at the visible evidence that she’s not wearing a bra.
My cock twitches, hard and hot in my jeans at the sight of her perky little nipples straining against the thin fabric of her top.
I have to bite down on a groan, fighting for control.
“Morning,” I manage, voice rougher than it should be.
She blushes, tugging at the hem of her shorts like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me, but she doesn’t. She couldn’t. Not really.
“Morning.” Her voice is shy, soft, but there’s a new boldness in her eyes. It hits me in the gut, makes my pulse kick up.
I gesture to the food. “Eat up. You’re not surviving the day on rabbit food.”
She glances at the tray, then at me, confusion flickering across her face. “My mom?—”
I cut her off. “Your mom can go to hell. You need real food.” My voice is sharp, but she doesn’t flinch. She gives me a tiny smile, but it’s real, and sits across from me, tucking a leg under herself.
We eat in silence for a few minutes, but all I can think about is how gorgeous she looks, hair messy from sleep, skin bare except for the tank top and shorts.
I force down a bite of dry toast, trying not to stare, but every time she shifts, the hem rides higher, and I can’t stop the dirty thoughts running through my head.
She catches me looking. Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look away. She sets down her fork, fidgeting. “Can I… talk to you about last night?”
My chest goes tight. “Of course.”
She bites her lip, picking at the edge of her napkin. “I’ve never done anything like that before. I just… I wanted to thank you.”
God, she’s so wholesomely perfect it almost hurts. “You don’t have to thank me, Ivory.”
She shakes her head, eyes shining. “I want to. I want to… return the favor.”
My cock jumps so hard I nearly spill my coffee. “Ivory, that’s not why…fuck…” I grit out, trying to keep my voice steady. “I don't expect anything in return. You don’t have to?—”
She cuts me off, voice soft but sure. “I want to.” She stands, comes around the table, kneels in front of me, so damn beautiful, so fucking innocent it hurts to look at her. “Please, Hudson. I want to make you feel good.”
Every warning in my head screams at me to stop. God knows I’m fighting it, clinging to the last threads of self-control.
“You don’t have to do anything, Ivory…” I say again, voice rough, almost pleading for her to back off before I do something I can’t undo.
She hesitates, eyes searching mine, then whispers, “I just… I want it to be you. Not my…” She swallows, her gaze looking away for a heartbeat. “Not my soon-to-be fiancé.”
That’s it. Something snaps inside me, and I see red. The thought of her on her knees for another man, touching anyone else, letting some cold bastard taste what’s mine, blinds me. I see Crest’s hands on her, see her forced to willingly kiss a man she doesn’t want, and I can’t fucking take it.
“I need my cock in your mouth. Right now, Ivory.” I growl, my voice now low and dangerous. Everything inside me is roaring, all my restraint gone.
She places her palm against my thigh, slowly running them up to the throbbing shape begging for her touch. She begins to trace the thick bulge straining against the seam of my pants. Her fingers are trembling but eager, stroking me through the fabric.
I hiss, hips jerking into her touch, need and possessiveness crashing into me all at once.
“Jesus, baby.” My voice is thick with need, and I know there’s no going back now.
Ivory is mine, and I’m going to show her exactly what that means.
I groan, my voice breaking. “Christ, you’re going to be the death of me.”
She grins, shy but proud, and leans up to kiss me. It’s slow, messy, all tongue and teeth. I cup her jaw, my thumb brushing her cheek, and lose myself for a moment.
Then she whispers, “I want to see you. I want to… touch you. Please?”
I can’t say no. I won’t.
I reach for her hand, guide it to my zipper, and help her pull me out. My cock is thick and hard. My arousal is evident, already leaking for her.
Her green eyes widen, reflecting a mix of awe and hunger.
“You’re so… big.”
I chuckle, but it’s broken, needy. “And you’re perfect, Ivory. So fucking perfect.”
She leans back on her haunches, hands trembling as she wraps her fingers around me. She strokes, clumsy at first, but eager, eyes locked on mine.
“Tell me how to make you feel good, Hudson.”
Hearing her say that… fuck me . I almost came undone right then. “Tell me how to please you.”
There’s no way in hell I’m worthy of any of this…of her. To have someone so genuine, pure, and innocent, who wants to give me all her firsts.
“Open your mouth, baby.”
She does, tongue flicking out, her lips already stretching over the head as she takes me in.
The sensation is like nothing I’ve ever felt. She’s a little awkward, teeth grazing, but she’s so willing it makes my head spin. I guide her gently, hand tangled in her hair, letting her set the pace.
She gags, pulls back, eyes watering. “Sorry,” she gasps.
“Don’t apologize.” I run my thumb over her cheek wiping away a fallen tear. “You’re doing perfect.”
She tries again, braver now, tongue swirling, lips tight around me. I watch her, chest heaving, fighting myself not to thrust deeper, not to lose control.
Then she says, shyly, “Is… is this what you like? Does it feel good?”
“Fuck, yes,” I groan, letting my head fall back, voice raw. “You have no idea, Ivory.”
Eagerly, she attempts to take more of me, drool slipping down her chin. I wipe it away gently, loving every minute more than I should.
She pulls off, and immediately I miss the heat of her mouth, the suction, the fucking perfection of her lips wrapped around me. She looks up at me, eyes wide and eager, lips glistening with spit and precum. She’s a mess, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
She wraps her small hand around my shaft, and it drives me crazy.
She strokes, slow and steady, her grip tightening as she learns what makes me groan.
I can feel every ridge, every vein, as she slides her hand up and down, coating me completely in her saliva and my precum until I’m slick and throbbing.
Leaning in, she flicks her tongue out, the tip swollen and sensitive, circling the head of my cock. She licks the slit, tasting the bead of precum that’s gathered there, her eyes shining with curiosity.
“Fuck, Ivory,” I groan, my hips jerking forward, pushing more of my cock against her lips.
She looks up at me, her lips parted, tongue still teasing the sweet spot under my cockhead.
“I want to make you come, Hudson,” she whispers, her voice husky and raw. The words send a jolt of pure lust through me, making my balls tighten.
I thread my fingers through her dark hair once more, gripping at the roots, but not forcefully, just holding her steady as she takes me back into her mouth.
The sight of her, on her knees, lips stretched around my cock, eyes looking up at me with such trust and desire; it’s fucking intoxicating.
I can feel the pleasure building, the tension coiling in my gut, ready to snap.
“Fuck, baby, you’re doing so good,” I rasp, my voice thick with need. “Your mouth feels fucking amazing.”
She moans around my cock, the vibration sending shock waves of pleasure through me.
I can feel her throat working, swallowing around the head of my cock as she takes me deeper.
She’s clumsy and inexperienced, but damn, she’s eager.
Every slip of her tongue, every suck of her lips, drives me closer to the edge.
I can feel it, the tightening in my balls, the electric pulse at the base of my spine. I try to warn her, try to pull back, but she sucks harder, her hand stroking me faster, desperate to make me come.
And I do.
I come hard, my cock pulsing, spurting hot and thick down her throat. Even with tears running down her cheeks, and a little gagging sound escaping her, she doesn’t pull away. She takes it all, every last drop, while her hand continues to stroke, milking me through the aftershocks.
When it’s over, I’m breathing hard, my heart pounding in my chest. I look down and see the mix of my cum and her spit on her lips, her chin, dripping down her neck. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I reach down and cup her jaw, letting my thumb wipe away the mess from her lips. “You’re fucking amazing, Ivory,” I murmur, my voice rough with emotion.
I lean down, kiss her softly, tasting myself on her tongue, a mix of us. And it’s perfect.
She looks at me, her eyes shining, and a soft smile on her lips. “Was that okay?” she asks, her voice uncertain.
I laugh, a rough sound. “Okay? Baby, that was fucking incredible.” I pull her up into my lap, holding her close, burying my face in her hair, inhaling.
She curls into me. “I want you, Hudson. Only you.”
I know I shouldn’t, but right then, I believe her.
“You’re fucking incredible.”
And at that moment, I know, no matter what happens, no matter who tries to take her away from me, I’ll never let her go.
She’s mine, and I’m hers, completely and utterly.