Inferno Anthology (169 page)

“Alayna, you might have to take this one day at a time, but I already know there will be tons of fucking between the two of us.” He pulled me closer, and I melted at his words, at his touch. “In fact, I’m going to have to be inside you again before you leave for work.”

I felt his erection at my bare belly. Instead of being surprised and ashamed that I still wanted him so very much, I decided to relish in it. “Like right now?”

He kissed me, deeply, his tongue taking over my mouth. Then, just as quickly, he broke away. “Not right now, precious. Dinner’s almost he—” The intercom buzzed before he’d finished his word. He smiled as he stood. Then he headed to the front room, saying over his shoulder, “But your enthusiasm is super hot.”

I smiled to myself, enjoying the residual tingle from our kiss. Fuck. Dinner was here and I wasn’t dressed. Putting on my own clothes now would be a statement. Staying naked would be too. I sat up and eyed his shirt on top of the laundry basket. It would have to do as a compromise.

I pulled off my shorts and had barely finished buttoning his shirt when Hudson returned with a bag of food in one hand and two plates in the other. He scanned me up and down, a pleased glint in his eye. “If you have to be dressed, I completely approve.”

Suddenly feeling playful, I curtsied. “Well, thank you very much, Mr. Pierce. I don’t know what I’d do without your approval.”

He grinned, crossing to the bed. “Should I undress? I said I would.”

“Not if you want me to actually eat. I’d be much too distracted. And I already have a hard time with chopsticks.”

Hudson gestured for me to join him on the bed. “Do you need me to feed you?”

“Hmm. Maybe.”

We ate together, eating Mongolian beef and Szechuan chicken spread out over the bed. I struggled with my chopsticks, half of my food not making it to my mouth. Every now and then he fed me, and I let him, enjoying being cared for in a way I hadn’t been in a long time, if ever.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Hudson asked after he’d left and returned with two glasses of iced tea. “Before work, I mean.”

I took a swallow, moved that Hudson chose to drink with me when he probably preferred wine. “I’m off work at three tonight. Or tomorrow morning, however you want to look at it. I’ll probably sleep a good part of the day. I work at nine tomorrow night. Why?”

He reached over to feed me another bite. “I need to take you shopping. You’ll need an outfit for my mother’s charity event.”

I practically choked on a water chestnut. “Oh my freaking god, one inappropriate outfit and you assume I can’t dress myself. Seriously, I should burn it.”

“That’s not it at all. I happen to love that outfit and would be very disappointed to find you’d burned it. I actually hope to see you wearing it again. In private, of course.” His eyes glazed, perhaps picturing me in the tight corset I’d worn that night I officially met him. “And I’ve adored every other outfit of yours.” He tugged at the bottom of my shirt—
his
shirt—that I was wearing. “You have an excellent sense of fashion. But my mother would expect a girl I dated to be dressed…” He paused. “How should I put it?”

I kind of liked watching him struggle with his words for once. But he seemed miserable so I helped him out. “I get it. I need designer clothes.” I paused, trying to decide if I was offended. “I guess if you want to take me out and buy me expensive clothes, I’m not going to argue.”

His lips curled slightly. “That’s a beautiful attitude. I’ll pick you up at two. Plan to spend the day with me. And don’t look at me like that—there will only be sex if you want there to be.”

Of course I’d want there to be. But whether or not I thought it should happen remained to be seen. I let myself consider it. “How do you intend on this working, exactly? Do you text me when you want a booty call?”

“Sure. Or you can text me. Or we can arrange ahead of time like we did tonight.” Hudson studied me. “What would you say to no condoms?”

I’d always thought condoms were a drag, but I hadn’t ever been in a committed relationship where I could consider not using them. It struck me as odd that after one time I was having this conversation with Hudson. “I suppose if you’re clean…I’m on birth control. I get the shot. My last STD test was a month ago and it came back clean.”

“I am clean. I’m checked monthly. And I hate condoms.”

“Then no more condoms.”

He smiled and I caught my mistake.

“If I agree, I mean.”

“Mmhmm.” He stroked his hand up my bare thigh. Sexual tension hung in the air between us, but my brain screamed at me to be cautious.

I hugged my knees, casually pulling away from his touch. “You said you expected fidelity—can I expect the same from you? Or will you be using this loft with other women?”

Hudson moved our leftover dinner to the floor, clearing the space between us. Then he put a hand on each of my knees, pinning me with his eyes. “I’m not a slut, Alayna. This loft has been used for sex, yes, but I have it so I can be close to my office, not for fucking.” He stretched a hand out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. “I will be as faithful as I expect you to be.”

His nearness, his touch, his promise of fidelity—it stirred my arousal, begging me to give in. But it also tugged at something much deeper, something both familiar and unknown, something I couldn’t name or identify, and I knew if I tried, it—whatever it was—would come rushing up and consume me.

I scrambled off the bed. “I can’t think about this anymore right now.” I began gathering my clothing.

“Why are you panicking?” Hudson stood as well.

I turned to him, suddenly angry—with him, with myself, with my stupid compulsion to cling and drive people away, with my parents for dying and pushing me into that behavior. “You know, it’s all very good and fine for you to say you want a committed sexual relationship. You’ll have no problem remaining unemotionally involved—that’s your default. It’s not my default. Don’t you see what you’re asking of me might be impossible for me to deliver?” I rubbed at my eyes, hoping to stop any tears before they dared to fall.

Hudson reached toward me, but I stepped away. “The more we have sex, Hudson, the more I’m likely to latch on, and even if you were into that, you wouldn’t be into the level that I latch. So, trust me when I say this has bad idea written all over it. Let’s call this a wonderful—oh, my god, such a wonderful evening—and now we need to move on.”

His mouth tightened into a straight line. “If that’s what you need.”

“I do.” I hugged myself, embarrassed by my outburst. “And I need a shower. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. In there.” He gestured toward the bathroom. “I’ll bring you some towels.”

He sounded distant, and I immediately regretted pushing him there. Already I missed the warmth of him.

In the bathroom, I threw my clothes on the black granite counter and avoided looking in the mirror, not liking who I’d see staring back at me. I turned the shower on extra hot, hoping the heat would relieve the chill that had settled on me, and climbed under the heavy spray.

In there, alone, water and steam embracing me, the tears came freely. I cried soundlessly, surrendering to the hollow loneliness that I had grown accustomed to before Hudson arrived to show me something new.

Absorbed in my self-pity, I didn’t hear him enter the bathroom with the towels, and when he opened the shower door and slid in to join me, instead of cursing his obvious lack of respect for my wishes to withdraw from him, I abandoned myself and pressed my lips to his.

He responded without hesitation, kissing me with gentle aggression. When I pulled away to catch my breath, he reached for the bottle of body wash and poured a small dollop onto his hand. Then he began to wash me. He took his time, running his soapy hands over every inch of my body. At my breasts he lingered longer, squeezing and caressing them both, flicking across my nipples with his thumbs. I sighed into the pleasure.

When he’d thoroughly cleaned the top half of me, he bent to wash my legs, starting with my feet and moving up my long limbs. He moved so slowly, so sensually, massaging the suds into my skin, that by the time his fingers slid through the folds at the base of my belly, I was ready to beg. His thumbs brushed past my clit and I moaned.

He swept through my folds over and over, and I jerked at each teasing pass. “Hudson,” I said, my teeth gritted, my pussy clenching with need.

“Is this what you want?” He thrust two fingers inside me, twisting them.

“Yes!” I gasped. “I mean, no. I want you.”

His grin was wicked as he continued to grind into me with his fingers. “You’ll have to wait. I’m enjoying making you wait.”

I wanted to argue, but he added a third finger to his probe and gently squeezed my clit and speech became impossible. I moaned as I rocked back and forth, digging my nails into Hudson’s broad shoulders.

Just when I’d reached the brink of orgasm, his fingers left my body. I opened my eyes and found him standing in front of me, holding the bottle of body wash. “I need to be washed too.”

My body ached with yearning, but I was eager to explore him. I hadn’t even fully taken in his naked body, having been too distracted in the bedroom and now in the shower. Lathering my hands up, I began as he had, at his shoulders, but I was too greedy to move slowly. Soon, I’d cleansed all but his cock. I stared at his giant erection, fascinated by its length and girth. He’d felt big, but I had no idea he was
that
big.

I swallowed. Hard.

“What’s the matter, precious?” I sensed he was smiling, unable to move my eyes from the sight in front of me.

“Um, wow,” I managed. “I’m a little intimidated.”

“But it’s already been inside you. You know it fits.” His voice grew ragged. “Touch it, Alayna.”

His command stirred me to movement. I circled my hands around his shaft and stroked his hot silky skin. He felt so firm, so powerful, so perfect. I moved my fist up and down, once, twice, and the third time, he leapt in my hands.

At the next stroke, he growled and hoisted me up, encouraging me to wrap my legs around him. He pressed my back against the tile wall, his mouth ravaging mine, and in one fierce thrust, he was inside me. I tangled my hands in his hair as he rammed into me, feeling every inch of his cock filling me and fucking me.

I cried as my orgasm shook through me, the tremors of it spreading all the way to my toes. Hudson quickened his pace, clutching tighter to my hips so he could pump through my sex as it spasmed around his steel shaft. Several strokes later he released with his own cry, his cock jerking inside me as he spurted hotly into my sex.

In that moment, I let myself believe we could be together like that, how he wanted, without becoming consumed, even though I was afraid that I already was.

Anxious for our shopping adventure, I decided to wait for Hudson in front of my building. I’d expected Jordan and the Maybach, so I was surprised when Hudson pulled up driving a Mercedes SL Roadster.

I slipped into the passenger seat. “Nice wheels.”

His lips curled up into a sexy grin as he eased the car out into traffic. “Glad you approve.”

I didn’t know where to look first—at the luxury sports car or at Hudson in his tight dark blue jeans and fitted maroon button down shirt. I hadn’t seen him in casual wear, and, as good as he looked in his suits, this new look had my tummy fluttering.

Well, Hudson in general made my tummy flutter.

“So you drove yourself?” Normally, I’m not much into small talk, but the sexual undertone between us needed silencing. Especially because another morning of constantly questioning the healthiness of my Hudson relationship had led me to decide the day needed to be sex free. I needed to counteract any attachment with distance. Hopefully, I wouldn’t chicken out when it came to telling him.

He glanced at me over his shoulder before he switched lanes. “Why does my driving surprise you?”

I shrugged, securing my seatbelt. “I figured you always had a driver.” Not that he needed one. He navigated city traffic well and watching him handle the wheel was hot.

“What’s the fun of having a cool car if you don’t get to drive it?”

“Good point.”

At the next stoplight, Hudson peeked at me over his Ray Ban Aviator sunglasses. “You look gorgeous, Alayna. As usual.”

His voice oozed pure seduction, and I pulled at the hem of my blue shift dress, wondering if it had always been as short as it suddenly seemed. “Are you buttering me up so I’ll let you choose what I try on?”

“I’ll choose what you try on anyway.”

“Of course, you will.” He was paying, after all.

We drove in silence for a few minutes, exchanging occasional glances that held the entire weight of our attraction. Under certain circumstances, the flirting and tension would be fun, but not when I felt so off-balance and unsure.

I had to get my declaration over with. “Um, Hudson, could we keep today to shopping only?” I hoped to God he understood what I meant without spelling it out.

He did. A brief flash of disappointment crossed his face—or maybe it was my imagination. His voice seemed stiff when he said, “Whatever you want, Alayna.”

Immediately, I regretted saying anything. The fun flirty mood vanished, and Hudson became reserved and withdrawn. I considered taking my words back, but really, how could I do that?

“We’re going to Mirabelle’s,” he said after a few minutes, not looking at me.

“Mirabelle, your sister?” Hudson’s sister, Mirabelle owned a popular designer boutique in Greenwich Village. It was the type of place you could only get into with an appointment, but from what I’d seen from window-shopping, the woman had mad fashion skills.

“Yes. Her friends are throwing her a baby shower today and so I’d hoped she wouldn’t be at the shop. However, when she learned I was bringing my
girlfriend
in for a fitting, she insisted on being there to meet you. Which means we’re officially on the job. Is that a problem?”

“Um, no, of course not.” My palms started to sweat. It occurred to me that the hours I spent worrying if I had any impulse to stalk Hudson online should have been spent actually stalking him online. Then I’d maybe have some more info about the supposed love of my life. “What if she asks me things? About you? About us?” And how would we be able to pull off the image of a happy couple when the tension between us was palpable?