Verity took a deep breath. This was the moment of truth. She shoved her hand down his pants, praying she’d find something in there to match the rest of his hotness. He was commando, because of course—badass criminals don’t do underwear.
She wrapped her fingers around his shaft. “Thank God,” she muttered when her thumb and forefinger didn’t touch. Not even close, actually. Verity had small hands; if her fingers touched, it meant unfortunate things.
Hudson lifted his head. “Worried I wasn’t going to have a dick?”
Verity stroked the length, getting a feel for how much there was, until she hit something that didn’t feel like it belonged. She looked between them, but it was dark down there. She put a hand on his chest so she could check it out a little better.
“Is that a—” She brushed the steel with her thumb. Not only was Hudson sporting an above-average cock, it was pierced. Thankfully it wasn’t tattooed. That would cross the badass line into really weird. Larold territory. She met Hudson’s amused gaze. “I want to know what that feels like.”
“Go ahead and touch it all you want.” Hudson’s mouth went slack as she stroked him a few times.
“No.” Verity licked her lips. “I mean I want to know what it feels like from the inside.”
Hudson grinned. “Should I assume you’re not talking about the inside of your mouth?”
Verity thought for less than a second. She could do the whole blow job thing another time. Besides, knowing her luck, she’d end up sucking the ball right off the piercing and that would result in a trip to the hospital—a place she was only slightly more interested in visiting than jail.
She’d been fantasizing about being pounded by Hudson since he’d stolen the cab and dropped her off at this very apartment. She shook her head. “Not the inside of my mouth.”
“Just to clarify, are you asking me to fuck you?”
“Yes, please.”
Hudson pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and slapped it on the coffee table beside them. Then he stripped off his pants. He also had ink on his very muscular legs. Verity would check that out later. After the sex. Hudson didn’t bother taking off her skirt. He just shoved it up to her hips and dragged her panties down her legs.
He lifted his hot gaze to hers. “Did you bedazzle your pussy for me?”
“What?”
“It’s all sparkly.”
Verity lifted her head and tried to see what Hudson was seeing, but she’d have to pull off a seriously difficult yoga pose to make that happen.
He rubbed the crest of her pelvis with his thumb and held it up for her to see: pink sparkles.
“Mr. Lay’s stupid package was wrapped in sparkle paper today. It’s probably everywhere.”
Hudson nodded like he understood. He dropped his eyes again, along with his hand. He rubbed a slow circle around her clit, then went lower, sliding a finger inside. “Later, I’m going to eat that pretty little pussy of yours. It’s absolutely perfect.”
Verity was sure all her sex parts had just exploded in their own glitter bomb of excitement. “That sounds like a lot of fun.”
“Oh, it will be.” Hudson’s tongue piercing popped out as he flipped his wallet open, retrieved a condom, ripped it from the package, and rolled it on. He grabbed Verity by the hips and dragged her closer. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”
A shiver raced up her spine, goosebumps breaking out across her skin. Hudson circled her clit with the head of his cock, then slid low, teasing her with the tip.
“How do you want it, Honeybee?”
“Huh?” Verity was too focused on the feel of his cock nudging her to get the question.
“How do you want me to fuck you?” He leaned over her, slipped low, and eased inside. “Hard and fast, or slow and easy?”
His question inspired an image of being pretzeled into some porn-star position and pounded. It was exactly what she expected. Except that wasn’t what she got.
Hudson stayed deep, rolling his hips, hitting sensitive places inside her body. Verity held on to his shoulders, submerged in sensation as that piercing worked its magic and brought her to the edge of an orgasm, then dropped-kicked her right over the edge into heaven.
Hudson cradled the back of her head in his hand so it wouldn’t bang on the floor with every thrust. “Next time,” he said against her lips.
“Next time, what?”
“Next time hard and fast so you can use your favorite hashtag.”
Verity Michaels @VerityPics03
Tight pants aren’t work appropriate. #MooseKnuckle #TheStruggleIsReal
Verity Michaels @VerityPics03
Sometimes the fantasy is better than reality. Not in this case. #PoundHudson #SmoothCriminal #Braggy #BigDick
Verity Michaels @VerityPics03
What the hell is in the box? #CraftHerpes
Chapter 11
Breakfast of Champions
Nina Bocci
Sometime in the middle of the night, a police siren’s bloop woke a very sated Verity out of a very dead sleep. Shivering, she turned into Hudson’s arms, seeking warmth. The chill from the night air danced across her naked skin, lining it with goosebumps. We need a blanket, she thought but then changed her mind.
The bright yellow streetlight shone through the apartment windows and across the ink on Hudson’s chest. He looked like an unfinished coloring book. Just for her. Some areas were only outlined in black. Others were blasts of bold color that melted into his skin. Lightly, she traced the thick and thin lines. The swirls and waves ran like multicolored veins up his arms, down his ribcage before disappearing beneath… nothing.
He slept in the nude, like any self-respecting, master-tattooed criminal thief would.
Smiling to herself, she turned her attention to his face. Over his strong jaw and scruffy cheeks, his eyes remained shut, his breathing deep and rhythmic.
Verity would never have ever imagined herself in bed with a guy like this. Her father was big on respectable appearances, and maybe that had rubbed off on her. Maybe judgey-ness was inherited. But thank God something had pulled her past that—sheer hotness, maybe. She giggled softly.
He was so different than her first impression. So different than anyone she’d ever known. And actually, maybe she was also a little different since their first meeting. She wanted to be. Much of him was still unknown to her—although quite a bit less than a few hours ago—but his easy confidence and kindness were contagious. She could feel them seeping into her, warming her, even if they weren’t natural to her yet.
She shifted to get a better look at him. He’d stolen a taxi to get her home safe. Just yesterday she’d read online about a woman being carjacked not far away. Hudson had been right to worry that the cabbie-vs-road rager argument might be dangerous.
His dick piercing winked in the window light, cutting through the darkness and her thoughts. She winked back, giddy upon remembering his words. “Should I assume you’re not talking about the inside of your mouth?”
The plan seized her from the inside out. Bold she was not. Ever, really. But with Hudson, something spurred her on. Maybe it was his reckless abandon of convention or the way he pushed her to be free. She felt it warming her again. She wanted to borrow some of his bold. Maybe inherit it a little. With him, she might find out who Verity really was.
“Midnight snack,” she whispered and slipped from beneath his arm.
As she moved, he remained asleep, but his brows worried together. His mouth slanted and his arm stretched, as if seeking her out. Her heart squeezed and her stomach dipped. His long, lean body shifted, scratching against the carpet as he slung an arm over his eyes. The other scratched his stomach before falling to rest against her leg.
Their clothes were strewn across her living room. Belts, shoes, jeans, and then she spied his T-shirt. She pulled it over her head, relishing the scent that surrounded her. Looking down at herself in it, Verity realized she looked wanton—all mussed and ruffled, the picture of
properly fucked.
She needed to get this show on the road.
Tucking her hair behind her ear, she sized up her approach. She wanted nothing more than to feast on him, savor him fully and feel the ball at his tip against her lips. His hands in her hair. Her name on his breath. But she needed to move slowly, gently, for maximum effect.
Careful not to disturb him, she moved into position from the side. The prickly rug rubbed against her belly. It wasn’t helping the butterflies already in there. Deep breaths in and out were her saving grace as she inched her mouth down and around him. Once, twice, three times, and then she was no lady.
Lust roared through her on a moan and took over. All sense of slow and steady went out the window on the breeze. In a flash, he was awake.
“Verity,” he gasped, muscles bunching beneath her hand as she dipped again. “Verity, what’re—oh, fuck.”
She nipped at him playfully. Just a bit, but it was enough for Hudson’s entire body to snap with tension.
“Midnight snack,” she informed him, dizzy with need as she plunged her mouth around his cock again. One hand cupped him, and she reached the other between her legs to lessen the throbbing.
Hudson caught her hand before it hit home. “No,” he ground out, his body angling up off of the rug.
She knew he must be getting close. When she tried to reach her pussy again, he slapped her hand away.
“My turn,” he demanded, smoothing his palm over her ass and down her thigh.
With each pass he got closer to where she wanted him. Needed him. Two fingers traced from her hip to her thigh and back up. He swirled them around until finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.
“Please,” she begged around his cock, rubbing the tip between her lips. She shook her ass in jest. Something to spur him into action.
“Oh, Country Girl, you don’t know what you’re in for.”
He surged up and slid backward to lean against the couch cushions they’d pulled down last night. His hard cock slipped out of her mouth, and she whimpered, a full-blown you-took-away-my-candy whimper. She was fairly certain she pouted as well.
“Give it here,” he said with a light slap to her ass.
Instead she crawled away, brushing her knees against the rug, taking her ass out of his grasp as she looked over her shoulder.
He’d slouched comfortably, like he was ready to relax and watch television, but it just so happened he was naked. His eyes, though. They let her know this was no game to him. He was going to devour her.
Oh, how she wished he would. With narrowed eyes, she wiggled her ass for him to come to her.
“I said,” he repeated slowly, his finger signaling for her to come forward, “give it here.”
“No,” she quipped, marching away on all fours.
Quickly, he caught her ankle and pulled her back. The rug burn would hurt like hell in the morning, but for now, it did nothing but kindle the fire. His legs were spread, his cock jutted up, and she tried to reach for it …
“Not yet,” he barked, pulling one of her legs over his body so she straddled him, still facing away. “Give it here,” he urged, laying his hands on her calves. He massaged, deep and just a tad too hard, and waited for her to catch on to what he wanted.
“You can’t mean…” She dropped her head to look at him from below. Upside down, he peered at her, watching her breasts sway with her shuddering breath.
“I can mean,” he said, smacking his lips as his eyes drank in her pussy. “And I want.” His hands came to rest below her hips, guiding her back slowly. Anticipation choked her as her pussy came close enough to feel his warm breath.
Shifting, he tipped her hips up to meet his waiting mouth. His tongue dipped and swirled like the ink across his arms. Slowly, he kissed her. Fucked her with his mouth until her arms, weak like jelly, gave out. She managed to prop herself up at an angle: ass in the air, her forearms on his legs.
“You had your midnight snack,” he said against her pussy. “This is my breakfast.”
Verity pushed back as Hudson lunged forward, burying his tongue inside her. He ravaged her, unrelenting, unforgiving.
“Holy fu—” she began when she felt the ball, the tiny silver ball wreaking havoc on her clit.
His hands came up and slid her apart. Fingers, tongue, lips, and a little teeth. She was melting from the inside out.
“Please,” she gasped, reaching for something to hold on to before she fell.
He wouldn’t let her slip. Not yet. Not until he’d had his fill. She knew that even in the haze of her building orgasm. She felt him shift, legs spreading while his upper body shifted to take the weight of her legs onto his shoulders.
Closer to his mouth.
Jesus Christ.
She surrounded him, and he her.
Her cheek brushed his cock, and he moaned, the vibration rumbling through her entire being.
“You fucked…” She paused, her eyes rolling back, her awareness heightened from the sensations of his lips on hers. “You took. Now I want.”
With a cry, she took him in her mouth again and lavished, meeting his actions with her own. For every lick, suck, and nibble, she gave a swallow, a pump, and a run along the shaft with her teeth, which she’d realized he loved.
“Verity.” A warning. He was going to come.
“Hudson.” An answer. She wasn’t stopping.
She was lost in the single-minded focus of making him come, of losing herself to his mouth and—fuck! He added fingers now.
“Come on me,” he begged.
He was losing it. They both felt it. Precise movements gave way to harried and frantic actions, that final climb to the top before they both fell over.
One more time she swallowed, deep, and with a groan he let go. She kept going, enjoying the way all her senses lit up on the build of her own orgasm.
“Please, Verity,” she heard him say. Or she thought she did. She teetered on the wire until he pinched the nerve, and she snapped.
Overwhelmed by the emotional surge, Verity felt tears streaming down her face, running over her nipples and dropping on his still-shaking legs.
He slowed, kissing her reverently before helping her weak body into a more comfortable position.
Quietly, they laid together, breathing heavily. Verity felt dizzy, weak, and happier than she’d been in forever. After a few minutes, Hudson’s breathing slowed to a normal pace. She figured he had typical-man syndrome and had fallen back asleep like a lump after he’d destroyed her.
“That was…” he began, surprising her. He tucked her in beside him so they laid facing each other. He reached up to smooth away her lingering tears. “No words, Honeybee,” he said, brushing another tear from the top of her breast.
She had words, but she didn’t use them.
He broke the silence eventually. “I’m feeling very awake,” he announced. “So tell me, what are your receptionist dreams?”
Verity laughed. “Receptionist dreams? What do you mean?”
“Well, is that what you want to be when you grow up? Most Southerners I’ve met in the city have a dream they’re willing to die trying for: sing on Broadway, trade on Wall Street, something…” He pushed her hair off her forehead and kissed it.
“I guess I’m different than those people. Please tell me they’re not all past girlfriends?” Verity gave him a glare.
“I like when you’re possessive.” He touched the end of her nose.
“I came here because my dream fell through. I opened a photography business in Florida—I even had business cards—but the demand wasn’t there. Or I wasn’t good enough. Whatever.” She looked away toward the window for a moment.
“I’m sure you were good enough. You’ve got a great eye.” He squeezed her hand and smiled at her, but she could just see it in profile.
“Thanks. I really thought I could do it. But it didn’t work out. So this is my fall back: being a real adult. My dad had a connection that got me the job. He prides himself on
being a businessman. The corporate world is what’s real to him.” She shook her head.
“Oh, papa can’t do you like that. Not cool at all.” Hudson tsked at her. “You can be whatever you want.” He made a buzzing noise against the top of her head.
“Tell me about you,” she said, wishing it were as simple as he made it seem. “How’d you decide you wanted to be covered in tattoos and riding a bike?” She traced his chest with her fingertip.
“I like colors. Listen, can I grab a shower? Do you mind?” Hudson shifted and pulled his arm from underneath her.
“Sure.” She was too orgasm-floppy to fight him. Had she said something wrong?
She waited for what felt like forever, but as her endorphins faded, so did her wakefulness, and she drifted off.
Verity Michaels @VerityPics03
#69
Verity Michaels @VerityPics03
#69
Verity Michaels @VerityPics03
#69
Chapter 12
Midnight Snack
Nina Bocci
Another bloop-bloop woke Verity a few hours later. This time it was her coffee pot. It filled her small apartment with the scent of a much-needed caffeine boost.
Naked save for Hudson’s T-shirt, she sat up, stretching and relishing her sore muscles. His clothes were gone: shoes no longer flung near the door, hoodie missing.
She didn’t let herself frown on the outside, but she couldn’t control the sadness that spread from within.
“Oh good, you’re up,” Hudson said cheerily from the kitchen.
Relief flooded her body until her smile split open across her face. “You stayed,” she breathed, standing up quickly and catching a hold of the couch.
“I’ve made breakfast,” he said lazily, seeming distracted by her nipples, which had perked up in the morning air. His eyes blazed over them, drinking them in. His coffee sat forgotten on her small counter.
“Hungry?” she asked, stretching so his shirt rode up over her belly.
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