by Penny Wylder
Hudson kisses me, mouth rough on mine as he honors my request. He slams in harder, deeper, the table making sounds of protest beneath us. He’s hitting that rare place inside that feels like lightning and suddenly I can’t breathe. It grows brighter and brighter until I am electrified. I am nothing but this feeling. “Hudson.” I say it against his lips. I’m shaking with it, with him, and I dig my nails into his skin, pull him closer to me with everything I have. “Please.”
He reaches between us, and one touch on my clit is all it takes. The lightning races outward, making every nerve in my body come alive with light and heat and pleasure and I scream again. I don’t care who can hear me, let the whole club hear me because this feels so fucking good. God, yes. Yes. Yes. Hudson has slowed his pace, instead entering me with deliberate, forceful thrusts that send shudders and aftershocks through me.
Leaning over me, he takes one of my nipples into his mouth again and I arch up into him. I don’t understand how I can possibly want more, but I do. I don’t want it to stop. This sudden, vast need in me wants him to keep going. To take me so thoroughly that I will never forget.
Hudson puts his hands on my thighs, spreading my legs so they aren’t wrapped around him anymore. Instead I’m wide open, everything bare and visible to him. He’s still inside me, and he rocks his hips into me, watching where we’re joined. The way he presses in sends a fluttery aftershock through me, and I clamp down on him. “God, I love it when you do that,” he groans. “You’ll never know how good it feels.”
“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” I say, squeezing again and allowing a smirk on my face.
He laughs. “We can both play like that.” He thrusts in again, and I’m thoroughly silenced.
Hudson’s grip on my thighs tightens, and he builds up his speed again until he reaches that same frenzied pace. And with my legs spread wide, he grinds down onto my clit so that every roll of his hips has an added burst of pleasure. God, I never thought I’d be so grateful for friction. Hudson’s breath is coming in guttural gasps, and I know he’s close. He closes his eyes, and I can see a sheen of sweat on his skin. I want him to come. I want to be the reason he feels the same kind of pleasure that he gave me. I squeeze down on him hard, and he groans, driving into me even deeper.
This orgasm doesn’t give me any warning, seizing me and making me lose my breath while light bursts behind my eyes. I cry out, and I feel Hudson come too. He’s buried to the hilt inside me, cock jerking while he groans. I manage to suck in a breath. “Fuck.”
Hudson has collapsed onto his arms over me, and he’s searching my face. “Fantasy number three.”
“That was a good one.”
A smirk appears on his perfect, kissable mouth. “I thought you might like it.”
He slips out to clean up, and then he’s back, lifting me up off the table and back to the couch where he settles me next to him, my legs across his lap. “So, did that help?” he asks.
“Help what?” I notice that two more champagne glasses have magically appeared on the table. The staff here are so well trained that they’re almost ninjas.
“Help you think of some of your own fantasies.”
I blush despite the fact that he was just inside me and I was just screaming. Somehow it feels like sex is one thing, sharing intimate fantasies is another. “It might have,” I admit, reaching out for a glass.
His arms are longer than mine, and he manages to pour each of us a glass of the delicious bubbly while still keeping me held close. “Are you going to tell me what they are?” It’s a gentle prod.
“I think that might be better saved for next time,” I say. Then I hold my breath. I don’t anticipate him saying no, but I’m not sure what the protocol is here in terms of repeat engagements.
Hudson smirks again, “If that’s what you want. But when is next time?”
“Do you have nights when you’re here?” I counter.
“Give me your phone number and I’ll text you my schedule.” He presses a soft, flirtatious kiss to my lips.
I take a sip of the champagne. “Smooth.”
“I thought so.”
His hand is wandering up and down my side, and I find that I’m distracted by the little shivers he’s sending across my skin. “I’ll give it to you when you have something to write it down on.”
“Fair enough.”
As good as it is, I don’t have another glass of the champagne. As it is I need to let the first wear off before I leave and drive home. Hudson and I sit, and we kiss, and we talk. I enjoy the sensation of being pressed up against someone, skin to skin, and he enjoys touching that skin, drawing patterns and playing with my breasts. I let myself fall into the trap of his lips. It’s been a long time since I’ve done any of this, but to just sit and kiss like we have all the time in the world is nice.
When I begin to feel tired and sober, I know I should go home. I pull back. Hudson is hard again, and I smile. He sees me looking, “I’m going to be hard until I see you again.”
“Really?”
“After that?” he says. “Yes.” He pulls on his pants and helps me back into my clothes. His fingers skim my skin, stealing sweet touches when he helps adjust my bra and drape my robe around my shoulders. “Let me walk you to the door, and I’ll make sure to get your phone number.”
“I thought you might have forgotten.”
“Christine,” he says, pulling me through the curtain and towards the main club. “There is nothing about you that I’m going to forget.”
As we enter the club the music gets louder and I can’t hear him anymore. I let him guide me across the dance floor to the stairs that lead to the outside. He stops, pulling me close and kissing me again. I smile against his lips. “What are you going to remember the most?”
“I think,” he says. “I’m going to remember each one of your five orgasms.”
“Four.”
Hudson smirks. “See, that’s the thing.” He pulls me over against the wall in a dark corner near the stairs. “Here at Club Deep, we have a policy that first time visitors can’t leave until they’ve had at least five orgasms.”
“Is that right?”
“It is.” His hand snakes down below my robe, pushing aside the fabric of my panties and wasting no time sinking two fingers into my pussy. “So you see, I can’t let you go until I make you come again.”
My breathing is already ragged, his fingers curling against that spot that makes my eyes roll back and my whole body shudder. “That’s very generous of you.” My last word pitches higher as he thrusts his hands in a little deeper, using his fingers to massage that spot. Any tiredness I had is entirely gone. I’m clinging to his arms for dear life because I’m not sure that my legs will be able to hold me in a few seconds. The pleasure is making them feel like jelly. Hudson’s thumb finds my clit, and suddenly my world goes white. I nearly collapse, letting him hold me up as my orgasm flows through me, and runs out over his hand and down my legs. He keeps going, his hand moving in a cyclic rhythm that hits every spot I need it too.
The pleasure is sharp and focused, searing through me like laser up my spine and through my chest and fizzling outward. His hand slows, milking the last bits of pleasure from me before he slips out, gently replacing my panties. He lifts his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. “Fantasy number four.”
Arousal flares through me. This wild thing that’s burning between us is both amazing and terrifying. I’m not sure I know exactly what to do with it. I know that I need to leave though, because if I don’t, then I’m never going to stop.
Hudson lets me lean on him and I make my way up the stairs on shaky legs. I get my coat, and he gets a piece of paper. “Now, about that phone number.”
Six
When I got home from Club Deep, I swore that I wouldn’t go back for at least a week. Everything that happened between Hudson and me was so intense and so amazing that I told myself to take time to process it all. Hudson texted me his schedule—which put him a
t the club nearly every night—and told me that whenever I came, just to tell the doorman I was there for him, and he would be there.
I really thought I could do a week, too. I could power through the ache between my legs reminding me of how he pleasured me relentlessly. I could survive Sandra waggling her eyebrows at me and subtly prying for details about the party. I dodge phone calls from my mother and sister because after what happened I’m unwilling to talk about Keith Overton and what they view as my lack of relationship possibilities. And every time they call I’m reminded of Hudson and everything that happened. It was amazing. But it wasn’t just the sex. I became someone else. Someone powerful and beautiful and confident, and I loved it. And along with wanting Hudson to share more of his fantasies with me, I wanted that freedom again. It’s perfect this way. He never has to know the real me that spends her time in front of a computer darkening shadows on images. That kind of person wouldn’t captivate someone as fascinating as him. So I’ll keep being that woman he met at the party—confident and together and mysterious. And that will be enough. But not for another week.
The phone calls from my family pile up until it feels like I can’t go an hour without hearing their ringtone. On what I think might be the hundredth call I roll my eyes and pick up a call from Catherine. She doesn’t even give me the chance to speak.
“You’re a real bitch, you know that?”
“I’m sorry?”
She scoffs, “You haven’t been answering my calls.”
“Yes, Catherine, that’s because I have a job and I don’t have time to answer a call every hour from you.”
“Whatever. You’re probably just saying that to make me think you were busy. I’m calling to find out where you were last night?”
I frown. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about dinner,” she practically shrieks, “With Keith. Mom and I set it up, we left you at least five messages. You could have had the decency to show up.” Her words are seething with rage, and now I am too.
“I told you I had no interest in going out with him, Catherine. What the hell were you thinking setting me up on a date like that?”
She sighs, a sound of long-suffering I’ve heard way too many times over the years. “Mom and I set it up because it’s embarrassing. Everyone your age is settled down now, and instead of putting down roots and making a family, you’re off gallivanting in the city. Do you want to be an old maid?”
Every time I think that Catherine can’t shock me, she does, and I wish her words didn’t hurt, but tears still prick at the back of my eyes. “Well, I’m very sorry that I’m an embarrassment to you, but I’m still not going out with Keith. End of story.”
“Fine,” she sneers. “Don’t come crawling to me when you’re forty and single and unhappy. You’re not special, Christine. Stop acting like it.”
The line clicks dead, and for a few minutes, all I can do is stand there. I hate how much her words resonate. I do fear that I’ll be alone, that no one will like me. But at the very least I know that Keith isn’t the answer. Deep in my chest a dull pain throbs, and I push it aside. At least for the night, I can be someone amazing and sexy.
Which is why, only two days into my week, dressed in a skimpy outfit, I get in my car and drive to the club. The whole way I tell myself to turn around, but I know that I’ve already made my decision. My body sings with anticipation as I pull into the parking lot. I can’t really believe that I’m doing this. Not that I’m doing it, but that I’m doing it. Me, Christine, the boring girl.
Tonight’s outfit isn’t quite as daring as the party, but then again, that was a special occasion. I had some strappy red lingerie from an old relationship, and I paired it with a pair of pants I own that are so tight that they’re practically painted on. I take a second to paint on a lipstick that matches the lingerie top, and take a breath. Don’t turn back. You’re not you. You’re ‘club Christine.’ Brazen, confident, and unashamed.
I push out of the car on that thought and head toward the door. It’s the same bouncer. I smile at him as I hand him my ID. “I’m here for Hudson Carlisle.”
“I remember you from the other night. I’m John.” He holds out a hand.
I shake it. “Christine.”
“I’m guessing he told you to tell me that you’re here for him.”
“Yeah, he did,” I say. “Sorry.”
He shakes his head. “Not a problem at all. It’s just good to know so I can make a note. I don’t have to check your ID every time if I know you and know you’re going to be here for Mr. Carlisle.” Turning his head away, he mutters into his headset. Then, “Mr. Carlisle will meet you on the second floor balcony.”
“Thank you, John.”
I check my coat and purse and head downstairs to go back up. I don’t think there’s a way to get to the second floor directly from the entrance, which I guess makes sense. You don’t want people popping into the themed rooms directly from outside. Hudson didn’t say where on the balcony to wait for him, so I pick a spot at random, in front of a room that’s made up like a desert with a tent of many silks and the scent of incense pouring out the door.
I lean against the railing, taking in everything that’s happening. There’s a good view of the club from up here, and I like watching the dancers in the cages and the dancers on the floor. There’s a good interaction between the dancers and the rest of the club. They feed off each other’s energy. I glance toward the stage that captivated me the first time I came here, but it’s empty. I remember what was happening and that raw desire and arousal floods my system. It seems I stumbled on a fantasy. Even though that seems like a lot for me. I liked it when I knew people were watching through the curtain last time, but that was through a curtain and not in front of the whole club. With the club’s owner, no less.
Arms snake around my waist, and I feel the familiar dance of Hudson’s fingers on the skin of my stomach. “It’s good to see you,” he says.
“I told myself that I wasn’t going to come,” I say. “I said that I was going to wait at least a week so I could sort out all of this in my head.”
His lips are against my ear and I feel his smile. “Then why are you here?”
I turn to face him, letting him pin me against the railing. He’s already hard, and that doesn’t do anything to cool me down. I laugh. “I see you kept your promise to stay hard.”
“I was. Almost the whole time. I couldn’t get you out of my head.”
“And I couldn’t stay away.”
“I can’t say I mind that,” he says, leaning down to kiss me.
Another thing I told myself was that it wasn’t as good as I thought. I was high on adrenaline and the thrill of going to a party like that one.
Yeah, no. It’s just as good as I thought. Maybe better.
Hudson pulls back and looks at me with a smile. “Do you want a drink?”
“No,” I say. “Not really.”
His eyes darken, and my stomach drops like I’m on a rollercoaster. I like that look—lust and anticipation. “What do you want?”
I clear my throat, my mind filling with that image of that woman on the X. “I found a fantasy.”
“Oh really.” He raises an eyebrow. “I’m dying to hear what it is.”
“When I came into the club the other night, there was a couple there.” I point to the empty stage.
He nods. “The St. Andrew’s cross.”
“I didn’t know that’s what it was called. She was tied to it. Facing it. Being fucked, and she looked so…” I can’t finish the sentence. Not because I don’t know the answer, but because every word I think of to describe the way that woman looked feels inadequate. “Maybe it’s because it was one of the first things I saw, but I don’t remember something turning me on like that just by looking.”
A slow smirk plays across his lips. “I think that can be arranged.”
He takes a step away and pull him back. “But I don’t want that yet. I don
’t want that in front of the entire club. So I want something like that. I want you to show me how that might feel.”
“Then I’m glad that I had us meet up here.”
Taking my hand, he pulls me around the balcony. We pass room after room, and I don’t know their order, so I don’t know where we’re going until he stops in front of a room that looks like it’s carved from rock. There are chains and wooden tables and a chandelier with what looks like real candles. This is a dungeon.
A thrill goes through me, and I’m wet. My body definitely wants this. The room is empty, and Hudson leads me inside to a little side room where there are cubbies and water bottles and…accessories. Toys that look like they have varying degrees of danger are hung along the walls in glass cases, everything from whips to paddles and other things that I don’t have names for. He follows my gaze and squeezes my hand. “Those aren’t what we’re here for,” he says. “You need special permission to use them, and I don’t have the key. Anyway, I don’t think that’s what you’re looking for.”
“No.” I would try it once, but I can tell from the shiver that goes down my spine that I’m not the kind of person who wants that. Nothing wrong with it. Just not for me.
“Leave your clothes here,” Hudson says.
I turn around to find him already naked, putting the last of his clothing on a shelf. My mouth goes dry at the sight of him, and I remember another one of my fantasies about him and my mouth. Maybe I can fulfill that one too. He goes out into the room, and I strip, placing my clothes next to his. The room is cold, and it might be my imagination, but I think I feel the tiniest bit of a draft. Just like a real dungeon might have. Club Deep gets points for authenticity. I can’t hear the club music in here with the door closed. It’s almost too quiet, just the sound of both our breathing.
Hudson is standing by a table. Or what looks like a table. It has many many straps and what looks like adjustable arms. This is the first time that I’ve gotten to see him naked from a distance, and I like what I see. Every part of him is long and lean and tan, and from experience I know that he’s just as firm as he looks. He turns his back to me, tugging on a strap, and I get look at his ass. I’ve never been an ass girl, but he might just convert me.