Page 101 of The Promises We Break

I hold out my wrists.

Giving him permission.

Giving him control.

52

HUDSON

Iwarned her I wouldn’t be able to let her go, and she’s giving herself to me, anyway. I wish it meant more than it does.

I knew the moment I saw her at the top of the stairs she had made her decision. Her eyes give her emotions away, and it’s like she’s already saying goodbye.

I’ve always known that whatever it is that she’s searching for, whatever validation she needs, is something I’ll never be able to provide. Because regardless of how special what we have is, she wants something completely different.

So, tonight, tonight I’ll attempt to etch myself into her soul like she has in mine.

Grabbing her hands, I push them back over her head and clip both of the cuffs into the hooks of the bedposts.

Pulling her legs down to the corners of the bed, I do the same to her ankles, so she is spread eagle in front of me. On display and completely at my mercy.

I unbutton the rest of my shirt, untuck it from my pants, and shimmy my shoulders out of it, tossing it on the chair with my jacket.

Her eyes follow me around the room, and she nibbles on the corner of her lip. She’s nervous, probably from my own unpredictable energy.

I honestly don’t even trust myself. I meant it when I said I’ll never let her go. I don’t know that I’ll be able to unclip her out of those restraints when I’m done with her.

There are a handful of sex toys, all of which have been in our bedroom and half of them we’ve already tested and played with. We’ve experimented so much with each other, discovering things that neither one of us even knew about ourselves, much less what each other liked.

I’ve never had the openness and honesty in any relationship than I have with her, and it fucking kills me that she doesn’t feel the same. Actually, she has to. I refuse to think that she doesn’t feel the same. She has to know how special this is.

I glance back over to her and decide I don’t want to use anything. I want it to be just me and her tonight.

Placing my hands on either side of her head, trapping her between me and the bed, I hover my lips over hers.

“I don’t want any other name, other than mine, to leave these lips. Not God or Jesus. It’s Hudson orhusband. Do you understand?”

She nods softly.

I slap the peak of her breast, and she gasps as her nipple puckers under the sting.

“Try again.”

“Yes… husband,” she replies in a breathy whisper.

“Fffuck.” I huff out a long exhale as my cock thickens. This is a terrible idea. It’s already torturous.

I round the bed, kneeling in front of her, taking in every inch of her creamy skin and gorgeous display. Her red hair is splayed out, like a wild mane over the top of the bed, and her toes are curling without me even touching her.

“Spread your legs.” She inches them closer to the sides of the bed, and her glistening pussy comes into view.

“Already wet for me, my wife?” Her breath hitches at the absence of her nickname, replaced with the title I so desperately want her to keep. Which is exactly why I’ll call her that all night.

I graze my lips over her ankles, kissing up her calves and behind her knees. Licking all the way up her inner thighs and right over the top of her pelvic bone, teasing everywhere except where I know she needs it.

I reach up and pinch her nipples, earning me a gasp and moan as her back arches off the bed, pressing her pussy closer to my face, so I flick my tongue over her clit.

“Oh, God.” Her hips fall to the bed, and I slap her pussy, stinging her exposed clit.

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