Friday Night
I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, the steady, quick drum of it the only sound other than our muffled breaths and the shifting of fabric. Hudson’s hand gripped the upper hem of the back of my dress, right between my shoulder blades. The feel of his skin against mine was otherworldly, the body heat emanating from his fingers alone enough to warm me so thoroughly I thought I’d never need the sun again.
“I’ll buy you a new dress,” he said through gritted teeth, his lips moving against my own.
“What?”
One swift tug and the fabric tore along the center seam, the back of it splitting open in two almost perfect halves. The rush of chilled air did nothing to calm the rising heat within me, and as he wrestled the cotton sundress from my arms and removed it entirely, the look on his face as he pulled back made me want to curl inside myself and die.
“Planning for this, were we?” He smirked, his gaze raking down my body.
I’d done the most ridiculous thing I could have thought of when I’d gotten ready earlier. I’d worn a white, skin tight teddy, lacy and frilly and strappy with all the bells and whistles. Lingerie.
“Did you want me to fuck you tonight, Sophia?” He asked in a raspy whisper, leaning back into me as he tossed my ruined dress onto the couch. “Were you hoping for it?”
I blinked up at him, my head foggy and needy, and uttered the only thing I could think of. “Yes.”
His laugh surprised me, dark and heavy as it was, and before I could react to it, his hands gripped my thighs. He lifted me up, forcing my legs around his waist, his fingers digging into the meat of my flesh. “You could have just asked,” he muttered, shifting me until he was holding my weight with one arm, his free hand wrapped in my hair. “Do you know what I would have said?”
“I imagine it would have been a yes—ah…” I grunted as he tugged my hair to the side, forcing my head in that direction and opening up my neck to him. His lips latched on, kissing and nipping at the sensitive flesh beneath my ear as he turned us.
“You clearly don’t know me very well, angel,” he mumbled against my skin, the air chilling the damp patches he left behind as he began to walk. “I would have said get on your fucking knees.”
A chill ran up my spine as we ascended the stairs, his footing solid despite my weight. I knew we were going straight to his bedroom, having done this dance with him before, and the excitement went straight to my core and down between my legs, dampening the patch of fabric that sat between me and his dress shirt. I hoped it didn’t leak through and ruin another one.
The smallest rush of sense hit me as he pushed open his bedroom doors. “Hudson,” I breathed, my nails digging into the skin of his back as I held on for dear life. “If we do this again, that has to be crossing some sort of line.”
“Don’t care,” he mumbled, his grip tightening. “Do you?”
Do I? I knew I wasn’t necessarily in my best frame of mind, it was hard to be when I was around him. But despite that, the pit in my stomach knew what it wanted. It wanted Hudson, it wanted this, and if I was being entirely truthful to myself, it wanted a hell of a lot more.
Slowly, Hudson released his grasp enough for me to slide down his form, my feet hitting the plush carpet in front of his bed.
I shook my head. “No,” I said, my voice too quiet. “I don’t care.”
My fingers found the buckle of his belt at the same moment that his lips found mine. He gripped the back of my head, his fingers knotted in my hair, and held me to him as he kissed me with enough force to sway my balance. His teeth nibbled at my lip, his kiss soothing the little ache it left behind, his breath mixing with my own, the taste of wine on our tongues delicious and sweet. I released the belt, tugging it through the loops as quickly as I could manage before starting on the button and fly.
Below my palm, I could feel how hard he was already. I slipped my hand between his slacks and boxers, his tucked-in shirt hanging loose, and wrapped my fingers around the length of him. I’d been yearning for him all week and I couldn’t wait to touch him.
Hudson groaned his pleasure as I squeezed gently, the tip of his cock pressing hard against his boxers, the smallest bit of sticky dampness deepening the gray of the fabric. I wanted to taste it. “Fuck, Sophia,” he grunted, his erection only growing from the small amount of friction.
I held the side of his hip with one hand as I slowly lowered myself to the floor, my knees settling into the soft carpet. His eyes went wide as he watched me, one hand working on his shirt buttons and the other still holding tightly to my hair. I tugged the hem of his boxers down, freeing the length of him, and wrapped my fingers around the base.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” I drawled, dragging my fingers down his shaft and back up with featherlight movements. “You got to taste me last time. You think I haven’t wanted the same?”
His cock twitched in my hand, excited for the attention, and he nodded once as he freed the last button of his shirt, exposing his chest for me. I pressed my lips to the tip of him, the little bead of precum coating them, and I licked it away. He tasted sweet, a hint of saltiness.
Slowly, I moved my head forward as I closed my lips around him, my hand meeting me halfway along the shaft. He kept his hand in place against the back of my head, guiding me gently, hesitant to thrust his hips. I pulled back to the tip, dragging my tongue across the soft, slick skin of him.
“Fucking hell, Sophie,” he grunted, the soft lines of his face contorting in pleasure as I looked up at him.
I retreated, just enough that a sticky strand of my saliva connected my lips to his cock, and grinned. “What?” I asked, my hand taking the place of my mouth and stroking him gently, a little twist at the tip and right back down.
His fingers twitched with restraint as he stroked my cheek, his jaw hard set, those deep green eyes staring straight into my soul. “You are perfect. Just fucking perfect.”
Butterflies stirred in my gut and I had to swallow the lump forming at the back of my throat. “Thank you,” I breathed, feeling that familiar sense of warmth as it flooded my cheekbones. Hudson was far, far too good at making me feel flustered.
“But even as perfect as you are, he started, his knees bending as he lowered himself to my level, “I don’t have the patience to wait.” His hands wrapped around the backs of my thighs, lifting me before pushing me back down, my lace-covered spine hitting the mattress with a soft thud.
“Hudson,” I breathed.
“Did you make this?” He asked, his knees hitting the floor, his head between my thighs. His lips slid against the thick, fleshy skin there, his hands ghosting over the fabric that covered my most intimate parts.
“No,” I whispered.
“Then it’s getting ruined, too.” He fisted the flimsy fabric at my waist, tugging swiftly downward until the little fibers holding the lace together snapped, tearing a hole in it. He kept pulling, kept destroying, snapping apart the lace until it could barely be called scraps, the loose strings dangling across my skin. The entire lower part of my abdomen was exposed, my parted legs bearing all, the bias tape along the edges the only thing still attached to my body.
My pulse quickened as he kissed his way closer to my center, his lips brushing little pieces of lace away, and as his tongue and lips met flesh, I nearly cried out. I held my breath to keep it in as he began to devour me, to eat me alive.
I wished I hadn’t worn the damn lingerie in the first place, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel sexy to have the shredded pieces of it lying across my skin, if I said it didn’t turn me on even more as I watched him pull at it again, exposing little parts of my breasts and nipples to the air. He seemed to enjoy it too based on his playful humming as he flicked his tongue across my clit, the fingers of his free hand teasing my entrance and coating themselves in my juices.
“Do you want me to make you come, Sophie?” He murmured, the little vibrations of his voice across my bundle of nerves making my back arch off the bed.
“I don’t… I’ve never come like this,” I breathed. I sunk my fingers into his hair, not wanting to admit that but trusting him to be the one to do it.
“You make it sound like it’s difficult,” he muttered. Slowly, two fingers slipped past my entrance, sinking into me. He curled them up at the tip, stroking that spot inside of me that made me feel like I was melting with annoyingly accurate precision. I clasped my hand over my mouth to contain the sounds that wanted to escape. “I guarantee you, it’s not.”
His tongue moved faster, matching the rhythm of his fingers, and holy shit it nearly felt as good as when his cock was inside of me. It had always felt nice—a good warm-up—but good god with him it felt like the main act. It was almost too good.
He worked me as his free hand slid across skin and silk, touching me just the right way to ignite my senses and make me squirm. Already, I could feel my orgasm building low in my stomach, threatening to pull me under with one perfect move. “Oh my fucking god,” I moaned, struggling to keep my breathing in check.
“I can feel you tightening around me.” He started moving a little faster, but his pressure stayed consistent, something I was thankful for. “Come for me, angel.”
My fingers tightened their grip on his hair, holding him fiercely against me as that dam began to burst, as my body flooded with pleasure so intense it rivaled the two orgasms he’d given me last time. I bit my tongue to hold back the scream that desperately wanted to crawl from my throat, the smallest taste of copper invading my mouth.
Slowly, he stilled, waiting until the waves had passed and my body had calmed to remove his fingers from me. “You taste so fucking good, Sophie,” he said, standing at his full height. His chin dripped, his lips soaked with a combination of his own saliva and me. He climbed on top of me, my body too loose to stop him if I wanted to. “Let me show you.”
He leaned down and kissed me, forcing my lips apart with a swipe of his tongue. The familiar taste of him was there, but there was also a lingering sweetness, not overwhelming like sugar but pleasant. Me.
The warmth of his arm beneath my shaking legs was welcome, and he suddenly shoved them up, pressing them against my chest as he lined himself up against my center. He broke the kiss, coming up for air, and with one quick push, he sunk himself so deeply inside of me I may have briefly forgotten my name.
This time I was ready for his girth, he’d stretched me enough from our previous romp. He slowly began to move. With each thrust, his hips met mine, the tip of his cock rubbing against that traitorous, blissful spot inside of me. His lips moved against my skin, over my thighs, calves, the spots on my chest he could reach with my legs up between us. He touched me like he couldn’t get enough of me, like I was a drug he was drawn to and couldn’t quit, and as his fingers found the spot between my thighs that made me feel like heaven, I could feel myself begin to build again.
“God, you feel so good when you squeeze me like that,” he breathed, slick hair stuck to the sides of his face from sweat and saliva. His fingers kept their pace, little circles over my too-sensitive clit, not daring to change in pressure or speed even as his thrusts became a little harder, a little faster.
My nails dug into the sides of his biceps as my body began to go rigid, my orgasm nearing its peak. I shakily let go with one hand and stuffed the side of my palm between my teeth, silencing the cry that I knew was going to come, that I knew I wouldn’t be able to control. Sure enough, as I began to break, the muffled scream seeped out around my hand, dulled and quiet enough so as not to wake Jamey.
“Fuck,” I squeaked, removing my hand when I was sure my voice was controllable. He slowed down enough for me to catch my breath, the touch of his fingers becoming lighter, and each little wave of pleasure that rolled through me felt coaxed out by him. “It’s too much. You’re too much.”
He laughed as his hips stuttered, his fingers retreating from between us. Before I could tell what he was doing, he pulled his cock from inside of me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and flipped me flat on my face. “Seems like I’m the perfect amount, Sophie,” he grunted, grabbing my hips and lifting them to his waist.
With another quick push, he was back inside, filling me to the brim.
“I don’t… I don’t know how much more I can take,” I whimpered, arching my back for him to get a better angle, my body still twitching and limp.
“You can take it,” he said, his voice more soothing than instructional. His hands splayed out across my ass, his fingers gripping in, and slowly, he rocked me back and forth in time with his hips. “One more time for me, angel. Come for me one more time.”
I nodded, a soft whine falling from my lips and onto the plush sheets.
