Page 129 of The Last Lost Girl

He leans down to suck my nipple into his mouth and releases it with a loud pop, then he trails kisses down my stomach. “I’m going to enjoy licking every inch of you soon.” He drags a finger exactly where he plans to place his tongue and the noise that claws from my throat elicits a dark chuckle. “Perhaps I’ll have your pussy for breakfast. Does that sound nice? I could eat you out as the men go about their tasks, and you could watch them pass by the window as my tongue darts into your cunt. I’ll lave your clit until you scream my name. They’ll all know who you belong to, then. They’ll know how precious you are to me…”

Holy. Hell.

His eyes gleam darkly. “Do you trust me, Precious?”

I nod.

He grins, then rakes the tip of his hook gently down, starting at my collar bone, until it travels up the swell of my breast, then over the crested nipple. He drags it down my stomach, dips into my navel and back out, then moves toward the apex of my thighs. A faint red line blossoms over my skin in his wake. The tip reaches my clit and I scream in pleasure when he slowly rakes the sharp point over me.

“I’m going to fuck you with this one day, too.” He lifts the sharp hook, draws my face to his, and kisses me.

I hear male voices outside. I can’t make out who’s returned from town, but someone has.

I look toward the window.

“I hope they just heard you scream,” Hudson says with a wicked grin.

He releases me and offers a hand so I can stand up straight. My legs quake under my weight. But before I can even think through the lust fogging my mind, he’s turning me around and pushing on my spine until the front of my body is plastered against the desk. His feet spread mine and he’s at my entrance, hovering over me, pushing back into me. My legs shake.

“I love the way you smell, the sounds you make.”

His hand is in my hair, gripping the strands. He cranes my neck backward as he grinds me into the desk. His hook is beside my head, cutting into the wood, dragging a trench into it. “Hudson,” I breathe.

He’s everywhere. His breath is in my hair, in my ear. His mouth is on my shoulder blade, his tongue drags up my spine. He releases my hair and moves his hand to my breast. He pinches my nipple until I cry his name.

“These perfect tits.” He pushes me down again and holds me there with splayed, powerful fingers. My skin squeaks against the polished wood. “Your smart fucking mouth.”

His hook carves more of that trench. And I can’t take anymore.

A powerful sensation washes over me.

I fall apart again and he laughs, his voice dark and deep as I splinter for him.

“I am never letting you go,” he promises feverishly.

He drives into me, harder, faster, wildly, madly. And when he comes it’s with a roar, transforming the trench he’d been carving in the desk into a canyon.

Hudson pulls out of me and helps me stand. He wraps my arms around his neck and kisses me gently. “I would offer to get a cloth and clean you up, but I prefer you like this. Dripping with me.”

The books I’ve read described what sex was like, but they did not prepare me for sex with Hudson.

He scoops me up and carries me to the bed. “We’re sleeping naked. I want to feel you against me.”

I think I’ve created a monster.

I think I might be one, too.

forty-one

I wake up to a pastel morning, alone and naked under Hudson’s blankets. The soreness between my legs confirms that he and I have definitely been busy. But what day is it?

Did I just give him my virginity in his tub, his bed, and atop his desk last night, or have we been enjoying each other for days now?

I hate forgetting. The doubt makes my skin crawl.

I cross the room and take in the obliterated screen. My clothes are folded over the swing’s plank. I quickly tug on my bikini, then don my shorts and shirt. The planks near the tub are still soaked. I don’t think I’ve missed more than a few hours. But where did Hudson go?

I pad to the door and slip outside.

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