Page 52 of Wilde's End
I wrap my mouth around his cock and sink down on it until he breaches my throat. Hudson’s fist thumps against the door, and when I look up at him, his arms are bowed back and gripping thetop again, while his eyes are locked on me. With my shirt gagging him, he’s never looked sexier.
The precum flooding my taste buds tells me he’s already close. I work his dick with my tongue, sucking hard, and then slide my fingers back into his hole.
Hudson groans, and it only takes a few thrusts into my mouth before he comes. I swallow every drop and lick him clean before I push back to my feet.
Looking at him is a mistake.
His eyes have that glossy look of a good orgasm, and he still hasn’t spit out my shirt. My heart is beating wildly from everything that happened as I wait for the reality to sink in. I step closer. Hudson’s watching me curiously, and I almost want him to say something that’s going to piss me off, but all he does is release the door and flex his unbroken fingers.
I reach for my shirt, and it takes a second of staring at each other before he lets it free.
Hudson’s panting too, cheeks flushed red and usually smart mouth settled.
The cubicle feels so much smaller now.
I pull my shirt back over my head, remove the condom and tie it off, then do up my pants.
Hudson doesn’t move until I lift his hand and drop the used condom into it.
“I’m sure you can handle this,” I say, and then I unlock the door and pull it open before he’s even had a chance to reply.
There’s no point hanging around any longer.
I got what I came here for.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
HUDSON
Iwill never admit it out loud, but I think that was the best sex I’ve ever had. Considering it was in a bathroom that looked infested with bacteria, that’s really saying something. It’s been hours since I got home, the sun is well and truly up, and I can still feel that deep ache from Wilde’s cock filling me to the point I can’t feel my legs.
Considering how much pain I’ve been in lately, it’s an improvement.
I stretch out across my bed, feeling like the stress of the past few weeks has been sucked from my body, and when I think about it, it sort of has. Wilde didsomethingwith that blow job. Something that dried up every word I’d ever spoken and left my mind blissfully blank.
My fingers are still stiff from my deathlike grip on the door, and even as I climb to my feet and hunt down some clean clothes, flashes of the sex we had keep filling my memories.
The way he took control, the way he manhandled me, the way I could barely breathe with how hard and fast he was fucking me.
I go to pull on my shorts when I’m distracted by the bruises on my thigh. Four circles, perfectly in line to match Wilde’s large hand. A smile tugs the corners of my lips as I run my finger over them, remembering the way he hoisted my leg from the ground. I want to believe he held my weight to make sure I didn’t reinjure my ankle, but knowing him, the most likely reason was so that I couldn’t run away.
Like I was going anywhere.
In fact, I’m desperate for it to happen again.
I’m only partially disappointed in myself as I do up my shorts and tug a T-shirt on. I really should be used to making terrible decisions by now, and yet every day, I wake up hoping I’ll have suddenly changed.
If anything, I think I’m getting worse.
Sutton might have been a dick, but he never threatened me, and yet thinking of Wilde makes Sutton fade into disinterest.
Guess it’ll be easier for me to keep my word to Kennedy, even if this is the exact opposite of what he wanted.
I follow the smell of coffee to the kitchen, a twinge hitting my ankle with every other step, and find Hartwell pouring himself a pot as Kennedy’s whistling comes from outside.
Hart turns his glare on me. “Make him stop. No one should be so happy this early.”
