Page 63 of Wilde's End
A deep groan forces its way from my chest as I thrust into Hudson’s mouth. I’m twisting close to that edge, and all I want is to topple off it so I can get out of here. To give in to that high, knowing how good the last one was.
I’ve never had an issue with anonymous sex before, but I’ve also never come in my life like I did with him. There’s something about putting this unnerving man in his place that I can’t get enough of, and I’d hoped it was a onetime thing. I’d hoped—pointlessly—that the second time would be missing all the intensity of the first, and I could walk out of here disappointed but free.
If anything, the tension tugging at my skin is worse.
My whole body is flushed, sweat prickling at my shirt asHudson works me over. He lets go of his own cock to wrap his fist around mine, and it’s exactly the friction I need.
I forget everything except this. The pleasure, the way my veins are humming with it, the way my balls are pulling tighter and the end is creeping over me.
I fuck his face as I meet each pass of his lips until I can’t take it anymore. A long moment stretches out like the vibration of a band before it snaps. My orgasm rushes over me, cum pumping into his mouth and making him splutter, but I only twist my grip tighter. Hold him there, both of us suspended in a moment where nothing matters except this high before it all crashes down again.
My hand snaps away from him like I’ve been burned, and Hudson pulls off my cock. His sinful lips are red and puffy, and cum has mixed with the spit on his chin, leaving him the most beautiful version of himself I’ve seen yet. Then he leans in and wipes his face on my shirt.
I huff and pull away, but Hudson doesn’t let me get far. He holds tight to my hips as he stands and presses me into the wall.
“I’m not done yet.”
“I am.”
He ignores me as he takes my hand and slides his cock into it. Then he wraps his hand around my hold.
I don’t want to like this as much as I do, but instead of backing off, I grip him tighter.
“Your turn to get me off,” he says.
“And if I don’t want to?”
Hudson’s eyes laugh at me, so close it’s impossible to not think of them as tiny gems glowing in the dark. “Then I’m sure you’ll have no issues pushing me away.”
We stand there, locked in a game neither of us really wants to be playing but that neither of us can resist. He gives me all the time I need to end this, and I don’t take it.
Because I don’t want to take it.
Hudson thrusts into my fist.
“My left hand isn’t the same,” he confesses. “I’ve tried jerking off so many times, but it never hits the spot.”
“You need more practice.”
“Or maybe it’s not my hand that’s the issue.” His hips pick up the pace, lips barely an inch away, so every needy breath that passes them tickles mine. “You’re the last person I want to do this with.”
“Right back at you, city boy.”
“So why won’t my dick get the message?”
Our gazes clash, that same question echoing back to each other. It’s no surprise I’m attracted to him; that charisma is hard for anyone to resist, but what’s the appeal for him? I’m a no one who lives in a nowhere town, with little to my name, and I’m not even interesting to look at. It’s all on purpose too. All choices I’ve made. I don’twantpeople to look at me. I don’t want anyone to give me more than a passing glance and an occasional orgasm. Life is better when you live it alone.
Hudson is a complication I didn’t see coming. A twisted, confusing complication. The type that’s wormed its way under my skin, and since I can’t beat the shit out of him, we’ve resorted to this. Filling the ache in different ways. Weak. Horny. Stupid.
His head tilts back, body pressing tighter against me as he chases his own orgasm, and I’m fixated on the curve of his thick neck. On how quickly his chest is chasing air. Hudson is an erotic dream, and I want the dream to end. I want my quiet peace back.
“Oh,shit,” he rasps, and his release floods my hand. I’m too slow to let go, and Hudson has me milk him through it, drawing out each little wave of pleasure until he slumps against me.
All he does is breathe for so long that I forget I’m supposed to be moving away. He’s gripping my T-shirt in both hands, andwhen he pulls back—not enough, never enough—he looks up at me through his eyelashes.
I want to shove him aside, but my body won’t listen.
“You know we’re doing that again,” he promises.
