by Abby Brooks
Hudson rocks his hips into me a few more times before pulling back. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand while he pulls me to my feet. He is so damn strong. I pretty much don’t have to help at all. He just lifts me up on his own. His hands are on my body, squeezing my breasts and running up my thighs. I’ve pushed him too far and lust has obliterated his control. He’s consuming me. Claiming me. Taking me.
I fucking love it.
My dress is a discarded mess on the floor and my bra and panties join it without a moment’s hesitation. Hudson lowers his mouth to my breast, sucking my taut nipple between his teeth and biting down gently. I moan and wrap my hand around his cock. He’s so big, I don’t know how I’m going to take all of him, but holy shit am I ever excited to try.
He sweeps me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. His strong hands grip my ass and I feel weightless as he strides back towards his bedroom while we kiss, our tongues dancing and dueling. He lowers me to his bed—a massive thing in a massive room for a massive man—and spreads my thighs, trailing kisses down my stomach.
He doesn’t hesitate. He sucks my clit into his mouth and I cry out, the sudden sensation so much more than my poor attention starved body can handle. He thrusts a finger inside me, then a second, hooking them so they hit a spot so deep and so intense that I cry out again. Writhe beneath him. It’s too much and not enough all at once.
“Oh shit, Hudson,” I breathe as he licks me. “More.”
He takes me at my word, sliding a third finger inside me, sucking on my clit so hard that I scream his name and lift my hips up to meet him. An orgasm claims me, my pussy clenching around his fingers while he continues to lick and suck at my clit. Just as I think it’s too much, he stops. Pulls his fingers out of me and now it’s not enough.
He climbs back up the bed and sticks his fingers in my mouth. I suck, tasting myself while I reach between us and start stroking his cock.
“I want you inside me now,” I say and smile as his dick twitches in my hand.
“So demanding.” Hudson smiles, those damn dimples looking fucking delectable, and reaches into a bedside table for a condom. I watch as he tears open the foil packet and rolls it on, smiling at how much I like seeing his hands on his dick.
“You’re so big.” I want to sound coy, but I think a little bit of the worry I feel about trying to take all of him inside me seeps through.
Hudson stretches out on the bed beside me, inviting me to climb on top. “Go as slow as you need, baby doll.”
I straddle him, pushing his crown against my pussy and slide down. My breath catches in my chest. A gasp strangled by the intensity of what I’m feeling. I pull up before I’ve taken him all and then slide down again, immediately wanting more. His hands go to my waist and I stare down at this Greek god of a man beneath me, my eyes wild, my lips pulling up in a smile as I slowly, so fucking slowly, take all of him inside me.
I sit. Unable to move. The sensation of being stretched and filled more than anything I’ve ever experienced in all my life. And then, I roll my hips. My clit grazes his shaft and I moan.
“That’s it,” says Hudson, sliding his hands down to squeeze my ass. “Take your time.”
I moan and throw my head back, my hair brushing against my waist and sending goosebumps rippling out across my skin. There’s so much sensation. Hudson inside me, so fucking big and hot, his tattoos standing out against his pale sheets. His hands on me, so rough against my skin. The mere fact that I’m fucking a stranger, taking this intimate moment as nothing more than pure pleasure. I speed up, losing myself to the moment.
I could live every day like this.
An orgasm explodes through me out of nowhere and I ride him, writhing and moaning and threading my hands up into my hair. He kneads my breasts and I cry out, breathless and lost. Hudson grasps my waist and pulls me off him. Throws me onto my back and climbs on top of me. Thrusts himself into me harder and faster and harder and faster. He hits a place so deep inside me it almost hurts. My orgasm changes shape, becomes a freight train bearing down on me and I lose myself to it.
My eyes roll back and I clamp my hand to my mouth to keep from screaming. Hudson pulls it away. “Make all the noise you want.”
And I do.
I release everything that’s been pent up inside me. Succumb to the moment. I writhe and scream while he pounds into me until finally, he comes in one shuddering gasp. His hands on my hips as he stares down at me, teeth clenched, eyes predatory, chest heaving.
This moment is for me and for him and for no one else in the world. It’s everything I’ve been missing in my life and I know without a doubt that I’m going to want more.
Chapter Six
I’ve never been with a woman like Maya before. I’ve never been so out of control of a situation as I was that night with her. When I bring a woman home, she’s usually so eager to be everything I want that she’s pliable. Anxious for direction and glad to have me tell her what to do. To take her the way I want her.
Not Maya. She was in control from the moment we stepped out of the coffee shop. Hell, as far as I know, maybe she was in control from the moment we left Aura, pretending to be drunk to take me off my guard. The sex was wild, untamed. Just her taking what she needed and me taking what I needed. And when we were done? She cleaned herself off, kissed me on the cheek and said her goodbyes.
She didn’t beg me to call her.
She didn’t look like she was fighting tears.
She didn’t act like she regretted one moment of our night together.
Hell, she didn’t even give me her phone number.
They always give me their phone number. Even the ones who think they’re just in it for the sex end up wanting more. I’ve never met a chick who didn’t end up hoping we had some sort of emotional connection when it was all said and done. Of course, I never do, and they always end up looking a little desperate as I rush them out the door.
Maya? She thanked me, kissed me, ran her hands up my chest and licked her lips before sliding out my front door without a word. And wouldn’t you know? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her for the last week and a half. I made it through my last physical therapy appointment with her sister without either one of us mentioning her.
I’m almost ashamed by how hard it was not to ask Chelsea about Maya.
The number of times I had to clamp my mouth shut on her name is too high for me to admit. I just wanted to know if she’d mentioned me. If she’d enjoyed herself as much as I’d enjoyed myself. If there was even the smallest possibility that she would want more in the same way I want more.
We could be fuck buddies.
Friends with benefits.
I am all about more meaningless sex with Maya London.
But somehow, it feels a little weird bringing that up to Chelsea, her pregnant big sister who seems way more about building roots and being perfect than setting her little sister up with a guy who only wants her body. Plus, I’m Hudson fucking Knox. I don’t chase women. Women chase me.
But considering the number of times I’ve gotten hard thinking about that perfect body riding my dick, I think I’m going to have to swallow my shame a little and ask at some point during my physical therapy appointment today.
I’m hurting a little after Sunday’s game. Last year, I ruptured my Achilles tendon and rushed myself through the healing process, ignoring all the warning signs that things weren’t right. By the end of the season, I could barely walk without flinching, let alone play. Chelsea lit into me even more than my coach did and I swore to her I’d be honest about how things are feeling from that point forward.
I limped too much and now, not only does my ankle still hurt, but my knees and hip do, too. I can still play. Fuck, nothing’s going to keep me from playing. Not this early in my career. Not while I still have decades’ worth of goals left to accomplish. Chelsea promised me that she’d spend the whole season repairing whatever damage I caused and working on putting me back together again as lon
g as I was honest about what I was feeling.
I wonder if she knew that meant I was going to ask her about getting another chance to fuck her sister. I mean, how much more honest could I get?
I’m laughing at myself as I head out of the locker room into the big open space that is the therapy room at Cincinnati Orthopedics. Chelsea waits for me, her hands folded politely over her belly.
“I swear, Knox. If you’re laughing at how fat I am, you can just turn right around and head home.” Her tone is serious and I stop in my tracks, holding up my hands.
“How could I laugh at something so beautiful?” I flash her the grin I save for the photo ops, big and cheesy and so ‘boy next door’ that no woman could think anything bad about me. Or at least that’s what my publicist tells me.
Chelsea purses her lips. “I’m not buying it. Flattery will get you nowhere with me.”
I’m not flattering her. I actually find the swell of her belly and flush in her cheeks beautiful. There’s something so wonderful about it. The promise of new life. The beginning of a family. It’s a fucking miracle, what she’s doing. It’s a shame she’s too busy feeling fat and disgusting to realize it.
I don’t say any of that to her. She wouldn’t believe me, not in the mood she’s in.
“So, the ankle hurt a lot on Sunday,” I say as she stabs the buttons on the treadmill. Chelsea isn’t one to bring her bad mood to work, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.
“I thought I saw you favoring it a little.”
I’m actually shocked. “You watched the game?”
She smiles a little, looking more like herself for the first time since I walked in. “I always watch the game when I’ve got patients playing injured.” She shrugs. “That’s one of the reasons I’m always so prepared when you walk in. I know what you’re feeling before you do. Now. What else hurts?”
“Today? Both knees and my left hip.”
She bobs her head, studying my legs. “I’m not surprised. The way you were running on Sunday put a lot of stress on those other joints.”
Chelsea knows her shit. There’s no way around that. She puts me through my paces, pushing me through a whole new set of exercises and I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t relieved when our session was finally over. It’s not hard in the same way a game is hard, or a good workout is hard. I’m not sweating or out of breath. She just finds these tiny little muscles that need strengthening and then hounds me like a drill sergeant while I figure out how to use them.
And then, at the end of every session, she stretches me out on a massage table and digs into those poor fatigued muscles with these freakishly strong hands. I know. A massage after a workout sounds wonderful. I thought so, too. Right up until the first time she got her hands on me. There’s nothing relaxing about the way Chelsea finds the pain points in my body. I hurt the whole rest of the day and part of the next. But, after that, I feel better than I have in a long time.
Well, until I get my happy ass back on the field and set us back again. I should be happy that I’m even playing. An Achilles rupture can be a career killer.
“Hey,” she says as she digs her thumbs into my calf. “Sorry I was grumpy earlier.”
“What? Grumpy? I didn’t even notice.” I widen my eyes and look as innocent as I possibly can.
She rewards me by finding a knot in my muscle and pressing into it with all her might. “Don’t bullshit me, Knox. You noticed.”
“Okay, okay! I noticed!” I flinch and sit up, twisting to look her in the face. “You can stop trying to amputate my foot now.”
She laughs and eases off. “It was unprofessional of me.”
“No worries. We all have those days.”
“I’ve just been having my fair share of them. This pregnancy hasn’t been easy. I can’t stop throwing up. The doctors say it’s normal for some women, but that doesn’t make it any easier. The days I feel bad far outweigh the days I feel good. It gets hard to smile through it sometimes.”
“You know you don’t have to with me, right? You realize that after over a year of seeing each other at least once a week that you can just tell me you feel like shit when I walk in. I might even have a hug for you. And I can at least make sure you sit your butt down while I’m working instead of running around like a crazy lady.”
Tears glimmer in Chelsea’s eyes and she swallows hard, blinking to make them go away before I see them. “I might take you up on that offer.”
“You damn well better. I promised you I’d tell you when I hurt even though I’d rather fake my way through it. You owe me the same courtesy, London.”
She sniffs and I turn back around so she can wipe her eyes and go on believing that I never noticed she was fighting tears. “Thanks, Hudson.”
“Don’t think twice about it.”
I let her finish torturing my lower body and try to hide my sigh of relief when she starts digging around for the ice packs.
“So, Maya’s pretty great.” I try to pull of nonchalant and fail miserably.
Chelsea grins up at me. “Preaching to the choir, my friend.”
“I know she was all about the meaningless sex. Trying to shed her perfect ‘good girl’ skin and all that. But she left without leaving me her number and I’d really like to call her.” I flare my hands and flash my dimples. “Any chance I can get it from you?”
Chelsea grimaces as she finishes draping the icepacks around my ankle and knees. “Maya’s really private. She barely likes me having her phone number. She’d kill me if I gave it out without her permission.”
“Oh, come on. You’re going to tell me that in all your years as a big sister, you never did anything for your her without getting her permission first? Something you knew would be good for her?”
“Who says I even remotely believe that you’ll be good for her?”
I raise my eyebrows in mock surprise. “Look at me. Of course I’ll be good for her. A body like this? If she’s looking for more spontaneity and fun in her life … this is the body to give it to her.”
Chelsea backs away, showing me her palms. “I’m going to pretend like I didn’t hear that.”
“Pretend all you want. You know it’s the truth.”
She shrugs and looks away, gathering her papers to start filling them out on the table next to me.
“See? You’re not even denying it.”
“I can’t give you her number, Hudson. Not without her permission.”
Fuck, I don’t want to wait around for Chelsea to ask Maya permission. How desperate is that? Besides, I lose the upper hand that way and I want the next time I’m with Maya to be all about my pace, my speed. I’ll be in control. Not her.
“What if you tell me where she works? That’s not exactly private information.”
Chelsea frowns. “Nope. Can’t do that either. But here’s what I will do. Her name is on the hospital website. A quick Google search should bring you all the info you need.” She pats me on the shoulder on her way to her desk and widens her eyes sarcastically. “Welcome to the age of the internet, Hudson.”
Chapter Seven
I don’t even remember the last time I’ve been home. I’ve been at the hospital for what feels like three weeks straight, sleeping on couches in the break room and drowning my fatigue with coffee. It seems like every time I’m about to head home, another emergency comes wheeling through the door and adrenaline blasts through my body. Another child to save. Another reason to stay.
But today I hit the brick wall of exhaustion. I wouldn’t trust myself with a scalpel in my hands and I don’t think anyone else would either. There’s an ambulance pulling up as I head out the door and I feel that pull to stay. What if they need my help?
“Go home, Dr. London,” says a nurse whose name I should know. “You’ll be worth more if you get some rest.”
“I know. Or at least I think I know. I just can’t help but think I could be of use.”
The nurse puts a hand on my arm. “That’s why you’re so
good at what you do. Now, go home and take a shower and sleep for about a week before you lose that reputation.”
If I get really quiet and honest with myself, I have to wonder if part of the reason I don’t want to go home had anything to do with Hudson. Sure, I want to be of help here at the hospital. And yes, my help has been needed. But I’ve been so busy, I never had an opportunity to think about anything other than work. And even then, Hudson still managed to slip in through the cracks.
His body. Those eyes. That smile. His voice. I crave everything about him. I have never in all my twenty-eight years felt the kind of things I felt with him that night. I’ve never been so wild, so untamed, so selfish. I never chased my own orgasm. Hell, I rarely had an orgasm. And the ones I did have were nothing like what I experienced with Hudson.
I know I’m going to end up wanting more if I let myself think about him. And that is so not the point of a one-night stand. I’m pretty sure, by definition, those are kind of a one and done deal. Coming back for more is out of the question.
Which is why I left without giving him my number. Which is why I haven’t asked Chelsea about him. Which is why I’ve sequestered myself here at work and forced myself to focus on saving lives. No time to worry about ruining mine if I’m busy fixing other people’s.
And that’s really it, right there. If I go off chasing fun and pleasure instead of focusing on my career, I’ll just end up ruining everything I’ve worked so hard for. Sure, things might be hard now, but that only means they’ll be easier later, right? Like that fable about the ants and the grasshopper where the ants worked hard all summer while the grasshopper played his fiddle. What happened in winter? The ants had food, and the grasshopper went hungry.