Found in You: Page 36
My orgasm came without warning, ripping through me out of nowhere, slowing my pace. I fought to keep the momentum as the waves overtook me, shaking me and shattering me until I gave up with a long cry of pleasure.
I was barely aware of the chair rolling until the desk pressed into my back and Hudson took over the driving. He thrust into me with skill and precision, my legs wrapping around his waist as he shifted our position, the seat behind him serving as a place for him to fall rather than actual support.
When my vision cleared, I noticed the windows behind me. Though we were on the penthouse level of the building and it was highly unlikely that anyone was looking in, it was still possible and the realization added a profound level of eroticism. The delicious tension had just begun building again, intensifying exponentially when Hudson spilled inside me with a deep primal groan.
He gave himself no time to recover before he laid me across the desk. Pushing aside the chair, he knelt between my thighs, propping my ankles on the edge of the desk. I was na**d and spread wide in front of the windows, in front of my lover-I was near my second cl**ax before Hudson's tongue ever touched me.
He didn't tease or go slow like he often did when he ate me out, but sucked and licked at my cl*t with urgent strokes of his tongue. I came instantly and still he continued. It was too much-too intense for my heightened senses and my h*ps bucked away.
"Once more," Hudson said before renewing his attack.
"No!" I writhed but his hands held firm to my ankles. "I can't take it."
"Once more." He was insistent, not to be swayed, but he did redirect his approach, moving away from the singing ball of nerves and plunging his tongue into my hole instead.
My hands flew to his head, clutching fistfuls of hair as he worked me toward yet another high, his tongue licking up my slit back to my cl*t then down to plunge in again at my core.
Somewhere in the part of my brain that could still formulate thought, I knew what he was doing-he was thanking me, showing me how happy I'd made him by deciding to live with him. His own cl**ax had come quickly, but he could get hard again. I knew this from experience. He probably already was hard again as it turned him on to no end to go down on me. Yet, instead of burying himself inside me, he was giving me all the pleasure. It was a message, and I got it loud and clear.
His endeavor slowed, but his ardor remained. The next orgasm came more reluctantly and he pulled it out of me with sweet, drawn-out dedication until I went over the edge, shivering as the warmth spread outward to my limbs, curling my toes.
Hudson stayed between my legs until I'd calmed, licking me and lavishing me with soft praise while my heart rate returned to normal.
Then he stood and carried me to the couch, laying me down.
He gazed at me, his eyes still half-closed with desire as he stripped naked. I was right-he was hard again, hard and throbbing. He lay beside me, wrapping his arms around me. Smoothing my hair with sensuous strokes, he spoke low at my ear. "I know it's scary and our situation hasn't been ideal, but you are everything good for me. Nothing in this world is important to me beyond you. I can be the same for you. I know it. And I'm so grateful you've given me the chance to prove it."
I shifted to face him. "You have nothing to prove. You're already everything good for me, too."
"Shh." He kissed my forehead. "Not yet. I haven't been able to give you everything you need yet."
My mind scrambled to figure out what he possibly thought I needed that he hadn't given me. The three words. That was the only thing I could settle on. But I knew them even if he didn't say them. I knew them with every fiber of my being.
"It's okay, Hudson. It's-"
He cut me off. "It's not. But I need you to know that I'm trying and I'm not going to stop trying until I get there. Do you hear me? Don't give up on me." He was vehement, his expression frantic.
"I'm not giving up on you." I reached my palm up to caress his face and he leaned into my touch. "Why would I do that? I love you, Hudson. So much."
His eyes closed tight, almost as if my statement were painful to him. "I don't deserve your love. I don't think I ever will."
"You deserve more than I can ever give you."
"We have a difference of opinion on that. We'll have to agree to disagree. Again." He pushed at my shoulder. "Turn," he ordered.
I shifted to face the back of the couch and immediately felt Hudson's thick erection pressing behind me. Lifting my leg up and back around him, he slid into me again. "This time," he whispered between kisses at my neck, "we're going to take it slow."
As I imagined would be the case, Hudson was eager for my moving in to commence immediately. Correction-immediately after another round of lovemaking. Bursting with an excitement I'd never seen from him before, he made arrangements with "his people," and by the end of Saturday, the relatively few things I owned had been boxed and brought over to The Bowery.
It happened so fast that the anxiety of it didn't even have time to overwhelm me, and whenever I felt it creeping up, I simply promised to deal with it at my Addicts Anonymous session on Monday.
It was easy to unpack. Almost all my belongings fit in the extra closet in the bedroom-our bedroom. Only one item, a hope chest that had belonged to my mother, found its way to the extra room. I was completely settled by Sunday evening, and the sore muscles I boasted were not from carrying boxes but from other physical activity.
Monday came too soon, yet wasn't dreadful since I adored our wake-up routine. Our cell alarms going off in tandem, a quickie in the shower, getting ready side by side at the twin sinks, sharing a fast bite at the kitchen table-all of it rocked. The still thrilling newness of it combined with the security of knowing the situation wasn't temporary sent me to the club with a spring in my step, a rarity for me since I had never been anything near a morning person.
Since I was in such a good mood, I began my workday by tackling what felt like the most daunting of my tasks: rescheduling with Aaron Trent. I had suspected that the only reason he'd agreed to meet with me in the first place was because of Hudson. When he'd canceled on Friday night, my suspicions were confirmed. All it would take was one call from my boyfriend and I knew the meeting would be back on. But I wanted to do it myself.
Since I didn't have a direct phone number to Trent's office, and I didn't want to ask Hudson, I had to use the agency number listed on his website. It took two transfers before I reached Trent's assistant. "I need to make an appointment with Aaron Trent. Is that something you can help me with?"
The voice on the other end was bubbly and professional. "I can take your information, but I'll have to check with him before any meeting time is approved."
"That makes sense." I ran my hand over my face. Why on earth did I ever think I'd be able to get to talk to the man myself? Despite the futility of it, I delivered my information. "This is Alayna Withers from The Sky-"
"Ms. Withers," Bubbly Professional cut me off. "I didn't realize it was you. Mr. Trent said if you called that we could go ahead and reschedule for whenever would be most convenient for you."
"Oh. Okay." So maybe he hadn't been planning to bail on me after all. I was pleasantly surprised. Not that I was fooled that his eagerness to meet had anything to do with me and nothing to do with whom I was sleeping with, but I also knew if I had him in front of me, I could impress the balls off the guy.
We made arrangements for an evening later in the week, but before I hung up, I asked the question itching on my tongue. "Hey, do you have any idea why Mr. Trent canceled to begin with? I know it's none of my business. Just curious."
Bubbly Professional seemed surprised. "Mr. Trent didn't cancel. Some woman from your club called Friday afternoon and said something had come up. I'd assumed it was you."
That was impossible. No one even knew I had the meeting that night except for David and Hudson. And last I checked, neither of them were women. "It wasn't me. Are you sure?"
"Yep. I took the call myself."
Either someone had canceled my meeting on Friday without my permission or I was seriously being pranked. Whichever it was, Bubbly Professional didn't need to hang on the line while I figured it out. "My mistake. Thank you and please apologize to Mr. Trent for any inconvenience it may have caused him."
"Honestly," her voice lowered as if she were sharing a secret, "this worked out better for him. He would have had to miss out on a daddy daughter dance if you'd kept the Friday appointment, and Rachel's the type of girl that doesn't take disappointment well. So you kind of did him a favor by canceling."
Ah, so it was probably Rachel Trent who canceled.
PAGES: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54