All of it. Every minute of it. But that answer seemed lame and I knew he wanted something more concrete. Several amazing moments came to mind, each making me blush simply from thinking of them—like when he’d crawled up my body and straddled my neck, silently ordering me to take his c**k in my mouth. That had been pretty hot.
And when he’d commanded me to play with myself while he sucked and tugged at my breast. Again, pretty hot. Also, a bit awkward. But only until I warmed up to it.
Unable to voice the memories, I turned the table on him. “What was your favorite part?”
He trailed his nose along my jaw. “The way you respond to anything…everything…I do to you.” He licked along my lower lip and I opened to kiss him, but he pulled out of reach. “Your turn.”
His mood was unusually playful and inspired me to join him. “I’ll never tell.” I grinned.
“Tell me.” He moved my hands together and pinned them with one of his. His other hand he lowered to rest lightly at my hip.
My exposed ribcage made me feel vulnerable. He could tickle me mercilessly. I tempted him anyway. “Make me.”
“I can’t make you do anything.” His hand flickered across my sensitive side and I flinched.
“I think you could.” I braced myself for his assault. “I hear you’re quite good at making women do things.”
And suddenly I wasn’t playing anymore, but hinting at deeper meanings. I hadn’t meant to go there, but his confession of manipulating women for sport always hung right below the surface of our time together. Lying nude beneath him now, completely stripped of senses from multiple orgasms, it bubbled to the top and escaped my lips.
His eye twitched, the only indication he gave that my true implication affected him. “I am good at making women do things.”
I couldn’t help myself. I nudged the conversation on. “But not me.”
“No.” His voice lowered, the playfulness gone. “Not you.”
“Am I not…” I searched for the question I wanted to ask, needing the answer even though I couldn’t yet form the words. “…intriguing…enough to play that game with?”
My hands still pinned above me, he propped himself up with his other arm so he could glare down at me. “God, Alayna, do you want me to do that to you? Possess you? I would crush you. I would destroy you.” His tone was dark, but also honestly inquisitive. “Is that what you want?”
My eyes filled. I hated the truth of my answer. “No, but a little bit yes too. That’s how my stupid brain works. If you don’t do with me what you normally do with other girls, there must be something wrong with me.”
He laughed as he lowered himself to the bed beside me. “Oh, it’s all you, huh? It’s not that there’s something wrong with me? How self-centered of you.”
Free to move, I rolled to my side toward him. “I’m very self-centered. I want to be special. I’m afraid that I’m not.”
“You are.” His words were emphatic. “Even more than you could imagine you are.” He turned his body so he could face me. “Because I don’t want to destroy you more than I need to possess you. That’s progress for me.”
We were both vulnerable now. Two damaged souls spilling our brokenness in a private therapy session. Was this what he had wanted between us? Sharing like this, without judgment, without shame? It was…nice.
I stopped worrying about being exposed and spoke from the gut. “Then I’ll try not to fixate on what it means that I’m different for you. That will be progress for me.”
He nodded, the weight of my words sinking in. “Do you know why you do it?”
“Why I become obsessive about guys?”
“Yeah.”
“My counselors have said it’s probably about not feeling loved as a child. Aggravated by the early death of my parents. So I’m constantly seeking affection and doubting it when I receive it because I don’t know what it really feels like.”
“How did you get over that?”
It wasn’t at all what I thought he’d ask, and I sensed he was asking as much for himself as he was about me. I’d gotten this far into the depths of candidness, might as well dive right in. “I haven’t. It’s a constant battle. Lots of self-affirmation. Lots of silly little tricks, like wearing elastic bands to remind me.”
He nodded, understanding about my elastic band settling in. “You still fall into old habits.”
“Yes.”
“With me?”
“You know the answer to that.” My voice came out a whisper. I wanted to look away, but our eyes were locked and in the softness of his gaze I found the courage to tell more. “I didn’t believe you were away on business. I thought you didn’t want to see me. That’s why I came by your building.”
His face fell, as though my honesty crushed him. He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, they were dark and intense. He reached his hand out to cup my nape, insuring that my face was fixed on his. “Alayna, I will never lie to you.” His voice was gruff. “Not when we’re off-duty. I will always tell you the truth. I swear it.”
His grip loosened, and his thumb stroked across my bare cheek. “Do you understand?”
I nodded and covered his hand with mine. “Hudson, this,” I choked, my throat tight with emotion. “This was my favorite part.”
For a split second I worried I’d scared him with my intensity, that he’d pull away. But he didn’t. Instead he put his hand on my ass and pulled me closer. He stroked down my thigh, urging it forward to rest around his waist. Then he slid inside me, my pu**y already wet from earlier orgasms. He was slow and steady with his pace, less rough than he often tended to be, his usual sex talk absent. But, because of the things we’d shared, his measured thrusts felt raw, more intent on connecting than on gratifying.
Climax came quickly for both of us, mine crashing through me in waves that tightened my belly and curled my toes and caused fireworks to cross my vision, his spurting hot and prolonged as he groaned my name. His eyes never left mine, though they narrowed as he came, and it deepened the intimacy. I knew he’d told the truth, I trusted him. In his words, in his actions, I felt fixed. I’d fallen into something that had nothing to do with love. Into healing.
And it was love too. If I could stand to admit it to myself, love was exactly what it was.