30. Chapter 29
Chapter 29
Hudson
“Paige, do you want cheese?” Finn asks, pausing in laying out deli meat on the slices of mayo-slathered bread lined up in front of her.
“Yes, please. And don’t forget the ketchup!” she calls from the living room, her dark hair barely visible behind the back of the tall couch cushions.
Finn makes a quiet gagging noise. “That’s just disgusting.”
I chuckle, grabbing another cucumber. She goes back to assembling sandwiches, and I go back to alternating glances between her tits and the cutting board.
Last night feels like a dream. I know it happened, because that whole coming hands-free shit was embarrassing as hell, even if Finn thought it was “insanely hot.” I’ve never felt more like an inexperienced kid than I did last night. Granted, feeling it and it being true are two different things, but I think it’s just because it’s her. I’ve known her since I was a kid, and I know I had a wet dream about her a time or fifty back then.
Finn nudges me. “What’s that smirk for?”
I glance at her. “Nothin.’ ”
She points the butter knife at me. “I know how your pervy mind works, Huddy. Plus, you can’t keep your eyes off my rack.”
“It’s a great rack,” I say with a grin and a shrug.
She looks down with a frown, as if she’s looking for evidence of the fact. “You’ve never even seen them.”
“I know.” I pump my eyebrows up and down. “But I can use my pervy imagination.”
Her attention is back on the sandwiches and her voice is low and uncertain when she speaks again. “They’re kind of…nonexistent.”
I gape at the side of her head. I mean, sure, they’re on the smaller side, but perfect for a mouthful. “Trust me when I say, they exist.”
Her gaze flicks to mine and she blushes. “What do you imagine about them?”
Pausing my chopping, I find her gaze, then dart my eyes toward the living room, before bringing them back to her. Leaning in so only she can hear me, I drop my lips to the shell of her ear. “Well,” I start, and watch her shiver as the word rolls across her skin. “I’ve seen enough to know that they’re perky as fuck, with tight, little nipples that peak at the smallest bit of cool air.” I brush her braid off her shoulder and run my finger over her exposed collarbone.
I continue in a whisper. “I want to know what makes them ache and how they’d feel between my teeth and on my tongue. But mostly, I wonder what color they are and if they match what I know must be the sweetest, most perfectly tight cunt.”
“ Holy shit ,” she breathes out, her eyes slipping closed. “You can’t say stuff like that.”
My eyes widen in panic and I step back. “Fuck, sorry,” I mumble. “I thought— ”
She meets my eyes quickly and shakes her head. Fisting a handful of my shirt, she pulls me back with a small smile. “No, sorry. You can say it, but just…” she trails off, tipping her head in Paige’s direction with wide eyes.
Relief floods me. “She can’t hear us.” I know my daughter well enough that a pipe bomb could go off next to the TV and she wouldn’t notice. Not when she’s so engrossed in her show.
“But still.” She licks her lips and ducks her head. “Plus, you’re gonna make me…wet. And you have a game in a bit. It’s not like we’ll have time to… you know .”
I love her all flustered, and knowing I’m making her wet? Fucking, fuck . That really turns me on. I’ve wanted this for so long—these stolen touches and sexy secret conversations. Normally, I’m a get in and get out kind of guy, especially since Tristen was never a very enthusiastic partner. But with Finn? I want to stretch this shit out, make her wait a bit. It might make me a cruel bastard, but edging her sounds like a whole fuck-ton of fun.
I glance in the direction of the living room, and then block her from view with my body as I turn back to face her. When I step close, she has to tip her head back to see my face.
My eyes drop to her lips, then I trail a finger over the bottom one. I tap my finger there. “Open.”
She lets out a shaky breath, and when she opens for me, I slide the same two fingers from last night past her lips. She immediately sucks them into her mouth, her eyes slipping closed with a quiet moan. I love the way her mouth stretches around them, and I cannot wait to see how much more they’ll stretch around my dick.
“You’re going to look so fucking filthy with my cock stuffed in your mouth,” I whisper against her ear.
She moans, sucking my fingers back as far as she can, until she gags a little .
“Fucking filthy,” I repeat and slip my fingers from her mouth, a string of saliva stretching from her lips to my fingers. She whimpers and her eyes drop to where those two fingers are headed. I circle them around the stiff peak of one of her nipples through her shirt.
Her hands fist in my shirt. “Do your nipples ache, pretty girl?” I whisper against her lips.
She nods and hums, sucking my bottom lip into her mouth. Her hand drops to the front of my pants to grip me through my shorts, palming my length.
“Huddy, I need to feel you—"
The familiar ringtone set for my ex-wife assaults my ears from across the room, followed by Paige’s excited, “Mommy’s calling!”
“Seriously?” Finn moans, and we break apart.
The tone of a FaceTime call connecting has me groaning as well.
“Hi, Mommy,” Paige says, her face breaking out in a huge grin. “You look so pretty!”
“Hi, Paigey,” Tristen says, in the syrupy sweet tone she uses with Paige. It grates on my nerves because it’s fake as hell. “Where’s your daddy?”
“Oh, he’s making sandwiches with Finnley,” she says brightly.
I glance over at Finn and grin at her. Making sandwiches , I mouth and poke my tongue into my cheek, working it until she’s stifling a laugh behind her hand.
“Stop,” she whispers around a grin.
“Of course, he is,” Tristen snarks, making me grit my teeth. Finn’s hand tightens on the edge of the counter. “Well, I have a surprise for you,” Tristen croons and I immediately stiffen.
Tristen’s “surprises” typically end with her buying Paige something outrageously expensive that she doesn’t need—or want, in most cases—or her disappointing our daughter by promising something she won’t deliver, like a visit for her birthday or Christmas .
Before I can step in to stop whatever she’s surprising her with, Tristen says, “I’m coming to visit!”
The butter knife Finn is holding hits the edge of the countertop and clangs to the floor at the same time I mutter, “ Fuck. ”
“You are?” Paige exclaims, bouncing up off the couch and running around it into the kitchen. “Daddy, did you hear? Mommy’s coming to Timber Forge to visit!”
I turn to her and plaster a smile on my face. “I heard, Pip,” I say, then reach for the phone. “Why don’t you run upstairs and wash your hands for lunch, while I talk to your mom for a minute, ok?”
“Ok, Daddy,” she says, then holds the phone up so Tristen can see her. “Bye, Mommy. I love you!”
“I’ll see you, then,” she says. No ‘I love you’; no ‘Goodbye.’
Paige passes me the phone and I throw a glance at Finn. She nods and tips her chin with a silent Go .
I cross the kitchen, stepping out on to the back patio. When I raise the phone, I’m met with Tristen’s face, and I can hear the chatter of others nearby. The sound fades away as she moves to another part of the house.
“Hi, Hudson,” she says.
“Are you really coming here?” I don’t want to be an asshole to the mother of my child, but she makes it really fucking hard not to be.
She laughs at something someone says to her when she passes by, then seems to remember she called me. “Yes, I thought I should come since she’s been sick lately.”
I scoff and run a hand through my hair. “She’s not sick anymore. Hasn’t been in over six months.”
“Well, I have a break in my schedule. So, I thought I would come out there. I haven’t seen her in two years, and then you went and moved her halfway across the country. I miss her.” She pouts .
I let out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, all you seem to do is miss shit where she’s concerned. You missed two birthdays and both Christmases. And we’ve only been in Timber Forge a few weeks. What is your excuse for the last two years?”
“You’re so dramatic, Hudson. I have a life. I can’t just drop everything and come running for every little holiday.”
“Her fucking birthday isn’t a holiday , Tristen. She didn’t even get a call from you the day of last year. And when she was sick, it took me three goddamn days to get a return call from you.”
“Yeah, and when I did call, you wouldn’t let me speak to her,” she bites out. “You probably couldn’t wait to get back to shacking up with that trash best friend of yours.”
I almost tell her to watch her mouth when she’s talking about my wife. I know it’d give me a sick sort of satisfaction to put her in her place. But I can’t do that. Not when it’s a technicality.
“Don’t fucking talk about her,” I bite out, instead. “This isn’t about Jameson. She’s done nothing but love our daughter. This is about you and your piss-poor excuse for mothering.”
I glance up then to see Finn on the other side of the screen. She slides the glass door closed with a sympathetic smile, then walks away as Paige comes into view.
“You’re such an asshole, Hudson,” Tristen seethes. “I just want to see my daughter. You can’t keep me from her.”
Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly and run a hand down my face. “I’ve never kept her from you, Tristen,” I say, trying to rein in my temper. “But I swear to Christ, you better be here. If you disappoint her again, it’ll be the last fucking time.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m not threatening you. But I won’t let you do it to her again.”
“Fine. I’ll text you with the details,” she snaps .
I disconnect the call and chuck my phone on the wicker loveseat. Lacing my fingers together behind my head, I take a couple of steadying breaths. Paige will have a thousand questions about when her mom will be here, and I have no answers. She doesn’t need my anger on top of that.
The door slides open and then closed behind me, before I feel Finn’s hand on my back. “You ok?” she asks softly, her voice full of concern.
I nod and blow out a breath, dropping my arms and looking at her over my shoulder. Her arms come around my waist from behind and she presses into me, squeezing gently, her cheek on my back.
“When is she coming?”
“She’s supposed to let me know,” I reply, folding my hands over hers on my abs.
“You think she’ll show?” she asks.
I turn so we’re facing one another, still wrapped up together. She tips her head back to look at me and her braid brushes the back of my hand on her low back.
“I don’t know.”
She eyes me for a couple of seconds. “What did she say about me?”
I shake my head and press a kiss to her forehead. It’s intimate, and it’s us. I’m so grateful for this woman. “Doesn’t matter.”
She nods. “Come on. Lunch is ready.”