Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
Hudson
Cullen is grounded.
Dr. and Mrs. Anderson went nuclear on him when he got home from the hospital, pissed that he went to Mason’s house. He’s not allowed to go anywhere for another week after already being locked down for one.
His parents have been gracious enough to still let me come over, although I have to sit and watch him complete a list of chores around the house.
It’s part of his punishment. Which is what I’m doing right now as I sit on the sink in his parents’ bathroom as Cull scrubs the toilet with the bowl brush.
“This is such bullshit,” he grumbles. “I’ve done every bathroom in the house, everyone’s laundry, mowed the lawn—twice…
” He shoves the brush back in its holder and flushes the toilet.
He washes his hands, water droplets splashing against my thigh.
“I still have to dust and vacuum downstairs, wash Mom’s car when she gets home and then start dinner. ”
He stomps out of the bathroom, mumbling about the list of things he has to get done.
I slide off the counter, following him out of his parents’ bedroom and down to the living room. Cull plops down on the sofa, leaning his head back against the leather.
Getting him to open up about what went down with Mason has been nearly impossible. I try to bring it up whenever we talk, but he clams up, his shoulders going rigid and his face paling.
Whatever happened, it’s weighing on him.
Looks like he needs his mind taken off things.
I saunter over and straddle his lap, my arms coming up around his neck. I slowly grind against him, his dick stirring under the friction. His head stays reclined against the back of the couch, but his hands come up around my hips, his fingers brushing the skin beneath my shirt.
“What are you doing?”
I smirk and grind harder. “That feels like a dumb question.”
He sighs and slides me off his lap. “I’m not in the mood, Hud.”
Well, that’s a red flag if I ever saw one.
“Okay, if you don’t want to have sex, that’s fine, but at least talk to me. What the hell is going on with you?”
He closes his eyes, his hands coming up to rub his temples. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
He’s being evasive again, and it’s starting to piss me off. I’ve never understood his pushing me to talk more than I do at this moment. Why he was always so persistent in pulling my buried truths from me.
We already know I can be a stubborn shit, so it’s time for a taste of his own medicine.
“There is absolutely something to talk about. You had some sort of confrontation with Mason that led to you having to go to the hospital for a fucking panic attack.”
It comes out harsher than I mean it to, but it’s almost like he’s forgotten what secrets and lies have cost us. What they almost destroyed.
“That’s all there was. We had a confrontation, then I had a fucking weak moment and let myself spiral. I’m fine.”
My head rears back at his words, taking them personally. He’s always told me how strong I am and that my mental health wasn’t a weakness, but here he is professing the same garbage I used to tell myself.
Fuck. That.
“Do you think I’m weak?” I ask, the words a challenge. I’m so beyond frustrated with him, but I’m trying to remember that I’ve had my time to heal, and Cull has actively avoided dealing with his own trauma.
Cullen looks at me like he’s disgusted I would ask such a question.
Then his expression crumbles.
His eyes widen slightly and his mouth parts, regret flashing across his face.
“Baby, no. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He stands from the couch and starts to pace, his hands locking behind his neck. His breathing picks up, his chest rising and falling too fast.
I walk over and stop him from wearing a path in the area rug, my hand coming up to cuff his throat. His eyes widen, tears clinging to his long, dark lashes.
“Breathe, babe.” It’s a command, not a request. Cullen has always responded better to blunt direction, sometimes needing me to take his choice away from him.
Cull takes a surprisingly deep breath and lets it out slowly.
“Good job. Another,” I order. He complies, taking a steady inhale. His pulse slows under my fingers, his body relaxing.
“I want you to repeat after me.” He nods, a rogue tear falling from his lashes. I look deep into his eyes when I speak. “I am not weak.”
“I-I’m not weak.” His voice is shaky, but his hands are steady when they grasp my hips. He’s grounding himself, which helps to anchor me. I like being Cullen’s strength for once—something I’ve longed to be for so long.
“Tell me you’re strong. That we are strong.”
“I’m strong,” he repeats, blowing out another breath. “We are strong.”
“Yes. We are. Now…” An idea sparks, wanting to make him smile. “Call me your pumpernickel loaf.”
“You’re my pumper—what?” He searches my face, then bursts out laughing, the nickname he gave me all those years ago coming back to life.
“The last time I called you that, we were fifteen, and I tried to embarrass you in front of Leah Lancaster on that field trip to the aquarium.” He laughs harder. “Guess I read that situation wrong.”
My hand is still resting at the base of his throat, but I tighten it again, a gleam sparking to life in Cullen’s emerald green eyes.
“Oh, you embarrassed me, alright. I had a small crush on Aaron Eakers, who overheard you call me that. It became part of his vocab anytime I was around him.”
Cullen frowns. “You had other crushes besides me?”
I smirk. His jealousy is cute.
“Jealous, babe?”
“A little,” he grumbles, looking away.
I force him to look at me, my hand going right back to cuffing his neck. “You’re the only one I’ve ever loved.”
That pulls a smile out of him. He leans in to kiss me, but I squeeze his throat, stopping him.
“Are you okay? You’ve not been yourself lately.”
He sighs, his hands falling away from my hips. I drop my hand from his neck and follow him to sit on the couch.
“I don’t know what I am,” he finally admits. “It was stupid to go to Mason’s house alone, but I’m so tired of everyone letting you down. I wanted—needed to do something.”
I straddle his lap again, brushing my lips against his. “No one has let me down, Cull.”
He scoffs, his eyes focusing out the living room window.
I don’t force him to look at me, just start talking. “I feel like I let you down. Like I let my parents and Hadley down. That’s something I’m still struggling with. It’s something that may take more time for me to deal with, but I am working on it.”
He finally meets my eyes, his looking so sad.
“You’ve all been the best support system. It was hard to see it that way at the time, but now that I have a clearer mind, I’m overwhelmed with love and gratitude.”
It’s true. It’s amazing what therapy and the right medicine can do, like help you see all the love surrounding you.
His lip trembles slightly, but he clears his throat, composing himself. “We did let you down. We shouldn’t have ignored the signs.”
“I spent a long time pretending I was okay. You can’t blame yourself for believing me.”
I slowly start grinding against him again, knowing that he needs to clear his mind. He said he wasn’t in the mood, but his still-hard cock says otherwise.
My mouth crashes into his, and he immediately opens for me, his tongue wrestling with mine. His fingers come up and start undoing my buttons, but when it takes too long, he just rips the shirt open. Buttons fly in all directions, hitting the ground with soft pings.
“Oops,” he breathes into our kiss. “Sorry, not sorry.”
I grab his hair and yank his head back. “I liked that shirt,” I growl playfully. “How are you going to make it up to me?”
He chuckles. “You get to decide. Do you want to be the fucker or the fuckee?”
I snort a laugh. “Decisions, decisions.” I stand, grabbing his hand to pull him up. I lead us back upstairs to his bedroom, making sure I lock the door.
We don’t need his parents walking in on us again.
He’s standing by his bed, looking at me like I’m his next meal.
Next, last. I don’t care as long as he devours me.
My hand meets the solid wall of his chest as I shove him onto his bed, his body bouncing on the soft mattress.
“I pick both,” I finally say. I grab the lube from his nightstand and toss it to him. “I’m going to need all hands on deck for this.”
“For what?”
I tug his basketball shorts down his thighs, his boxers going with them, and toss them over my shoulder. His cock stands tall, a drip of pre-cum sliding down his swollen head.
“You’re going to stretch yourself for me while I watch.”
His mouth drops open, his pupils dilating, the green swallowed whole by his lust for me. “I’ve never done that to myself.”
“First time for everything, babe,” I declare, shimmying out of my own shorts and underwear. I stroke my dick, enjoying the dry friction before holding my hand out to Cull. He’s a little slow on the uptake before it dawns on him that I want lube.
He snicks open the cap, pouring a generous amount into my hand. I prop one foot up on the bed, leaning forward slightly before reaching around and going in with two fingers, filling myself. I let out a soft moan, loving the pressure.
It looks like Cull needs a little encouragement, so I start giving him directions.
“On your hands and knees.” He moves with swiftness, tugging his t-shirt off and positioning himself ass up, giving me the most glorious view.
“Squirt the lube on that perfect hole.” His cheeks redden at my husky command, but he follows the direction, allowing the lube to cascade down his crack.
“Find a position that's comfortable and reach back and play with yourself.”
He lays his chest flat on the bed, his left arm a cushion for his head. He takes a deep breath, then swipes his right hand through the mess of lube, coating his fingers.
“Middle finger first,” I tell him, watching as he slowly inserts the digit. My cock is straining for him, ready to explode. I stop teasing myself, leaving my fingers cocooned in my heat, needing to last for what I have in mind.