Chapter 44 MATTY #2
His groan as he sank onto the bed to sit said I made the right decision. Shoes kicked off, bags left in a heap, clothes on the floor, we collapsed into bed against each other like men who’d run marathons. I shuffled closer to him, and he placed his head on my shoulder.
“Rowan was right,” I mumbled, already drifting. It was crazy how tired I was. “Weddings are exhausting.”
“Shouldn’t have snuck over last night,” Hudson grumbled into my neck.
I ran a hand through his hair. “But if anyone asks, the first night of our honeymoon was the best sex of our lives.”
“Definitely.” His chuckle rumbled low in his chest. “Best sex we’ve ever had.”
The light woke me before sound did—thin gray seeping through the curtains, brushing across the bed. My hand swept the sheets and found nothing but cool linen. For a second, my chest kicked up in panic until a faint hiss reached me. Water.
I stretched long and slow, every muscle sighing like it hadn’t in years. My back gave a few satisfying cracks, and I let out a groan. I’d been so exhausted from the wedding that I hadn’t gotten up once during the night.
My bladder should’ve had me up hours ago, but even that had been no match for the kind of sleep that knocked me flat last night. I scrubbed at my face and sat up, hair sticking every which way.
The hiss of water grew louder. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and smiled to myself. Figured. First morning as my husband, and he was already up before me, showering like a responsible adult, while I sat there yawning like a farmhand who’d overslept.
I stood, stretching my arms over my head until my spine gave another little crack, and my bladder was on the brink of leaking.
I padded across the wide floorboards, bare feet whispering against the wood, and paused by my bag.
I grabbed the bottle of lube and couldn’t help the grin that tugged at my mouth as I slipped into the bathroom.
“Good morning, husband,” I called out.
Hudson pulled apart the glass doors and poked his head out. “You’re finally up.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?” I sighed as I flipped the lid off the toilet and let my bladder do its thing. God, that felt fucking good.
Hudson’s laugh carried through the hiss of water. “You looked too peaceful.”
I glanced over, and sure enough, his eyes were on me through the steam, a lazy smile on his mouth. My chest tugged.
When I finished, I washed my hands, tossed him a grin, and stepped toward the shower, holding up a tube like a prize. He arched his brows.
“One step ahead of you.” He moved back and beckoned me inside.
“Are you now?”
Steam curled around me, clinging to my skin, wrapping me in his warmth before I even touched him. I barely managed to close the doors when Hudson’s hands came down on my waist and he backed me into the glass.
“I’ve been waiting for this all morning, husband,” he said against my lips, the spray of the water hitting us both.
“Should have woken me up to fulfill my husbandly duties.”
The kiss started soft, unhurried, but days—hell, years—of wanting him had a way of turning everything sharp fast. His groan vibrated against my lips as he dug his fingers into my hips.
I slid my hand between us to wrap around him and stroked him. He grew hard and pulsed under my palm. He hissed into my mouth, the sound shuddering down my spine.
“Matt…” He dropped his forehead to mine, his breath ragged. “God, I—”
“Shh.” I kissed him again, tenderly, as if the whole morning belonged to us. “We’ve got nowhere else to be.”
When I finally pressed into him, slow and steady, his whole body shuddered. He braced against the wall, back perfectly arched while I pushed up into him, claiming him over and over.
“I’ll never get tired of making love to you,” I groaned, watching the way he spread around the thickness of the head of my cock when I pulled out, leaving nothing but the tip hitched inside of him.
“Feels so good,” he moaned. “Make me come, Matt.”
“So bossy.”
But I listened to the near desperation in his voice and built a quick rhythm. The steam and sweat and water made us slippery, forcing me to cling tighter to him.
Loud cries spilled from his throat, echoing around the walls of the shower, mixing with the slap of skin and the pounding rush of water. With every thrust, his body squeezed around me, milking me deeper, tighter until I was cursing against the side of his neck.
“Fuck, Hud,” I rasped, biting his damp skin, snapping my hips fast and hard. “You feel like you were made for me.”
His fingers scrabbled against the tile for grip. Then he found the bar and held on like he was hanging off a cliff. “Don’t stop,” he begged, his voice breaking. “God, don’t—don’t you dare stop.”
I wrapped one arm around his chest, dragging him back into me so I could pound upward, each stroke slamming us together with a wet crack.
I worked my free hand down his stomach, slick with lube and water, and wrapped it around his cock again.
He was thick and heavy in my grip, jerking against my palm as I stroked him in rhythm with the way I was fucking him.
“Gonna come.” His head fell back on my shoulder, and his whole body shook.
“Yeah?” I grazed his ear with my teeth, driving my cock into him harder, deeper, relentless. “Come for me, husband. Paint my fucking hand. Show me who you belong to.”
That tore it out of him. He came with a strangled shout, hot ropes spilling over my fist. His body clenched so hard around me that I almost lost it right there. He bucked and writhed, helpless, his cries ricocheting against the tiles.
As my orgasm ripped through me, I snarled his name into his neck and let go, shoving deep, pulsing inside him, spilling into him. My thrusts went messy, frantic, as wave after wave of heat rippled through me.
We clung to each other through it, panting, groaning as the water streamed over our trembling bodies. He sagged against the wall, and I wrapped myself around him, holding him upright, kissing his damp temple, still buried in him, pulsing faint aftershocks.
“Best… fucking… shower,” he panted, voice wrecked.
I grinned against his skin, pressing soft kisses down his jaw, even as my cock slipped free, leaving us both aching and spent. “Get used to it,” I murmured. “You’re stuck with me now. Morning sex, shower sex, every kind of sex.”
“Ah, Matt.” He turned around, smiling like a dope as he wound his hand around my waist. “You didn’t have to buy me a shiny ring to make me your personal whore. You know, when it comes to you, I’m easy.”
I caught Hudson’s chin. “Easy? You’re the hardest thing I’ve ever earned. For a long time, I doubted you’d ever be mine again, but look at us now, Hud. No turning back.”
Eventually, Hudson pointed out that we would miss breakfast if we didn’t get a move on.
We breezed through our shower, and when we reached the log cabin, which hosted the admin area and the dining hall, our hair was still damp, but I had a grin on my face, so I didn’t even mind the water dripping down my neck.
The door opened from the inside, and an older man, probably in his fifties, walked out. “Ugh, Daddy, can’t we just return to bed?”
I held Hudson back, stepping aside as a younger guy, about my age followed suit. He gave us a curt nod, then hurried to catch up with his companion.
“Owen, don’t you walk away from me.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re being a spoiled brat.”
“If I’m a spoiled brat, you’re the Daddy who made me that way.”
Hot damn. Hudson and I looked at each other, confused.
We weren’t strangers to Daddy kink. Opie and Law had it going on, but the “Daddy” in this case seemed to be less than half the age of his partner.
We were probably being rude for staring, but I was too curious to move, and so it seemed was Hudson.
The Daddy approached the boy and whispered something in his ear. His whole demeanor changed, his body resting into the younger man’s.
“Oh shit. That’s interesting.” I turned to Hudson, my lips curved into a smile. I waggled my eyebrows at him suggestively.
He scowled. “Don’t even think it.”
“Why not? You saw that it clearly worked.”
“I am not calling you Daddy. End of discussion.”
I leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “How about sugar Daddy, then, on account of me taking such good care of you?”
Hudson groaned. “Matthias Magnuson, respectfully, fuck off.”
I laughed, couldn’t help it, the sound spilling into the morning air. “Relax, husband. I’m joking. The only title I need from you is husband.”
Hudson rolled his eyes, but I caught the twitch of his mouth before he could hide it. He turned and strode for the cabin doors like a man escaping temptation.
“Oh boy…” I sang as I jogged after him. He flipped me the bird and slipped inside without holding the door for me.
And just like that, our honeymoon had officially begun.
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