Page 30 of Say You Love Me

He drags his eyes upwards until he finds me through his drunken haze. “Out with Liam.” His words are slurred. I can’t remember ever seeing him this drunk before. “Where have you been?” He says the words as an accusation.

“At your parents’ house having dinner.”

His eyes narrow for a moment, as though struggling to remember a distant memory. “I saw you, you know.”

“At your parents’ house?” He wasn’t making sense.

He manages to push off his second shoe and it drops to the floor. He takes a few uncertain steps toward where I’m waiting at the bottom of the stairs. “At lunch,” he hisses.

Flames lick my cheeks, even though I’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about. “And?” I snap.

“And the guy you were with wanted to fuck you.”

“You’re drunk.” I turn and start walking up the stairs.

“I might be drunk but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” Hudson follows me, using the banister to support himself as he drags his body up the stairs. “He so wanted to fuck you. Did you want him to fuck you, Finity? Did you want him to—”

“Just go to bed, Hudson. He’s a friend from the center, that’s all. Nothing else.”

“I saw the way he looked at you, Finity,” he shouts. “I saw the hunger in his eyes. I know that look. It’s the way I used to look at you. It’s the way—”

I slam the bedroom door shut, blocking out his voice. My heart is beating erratically. The guilt is heavy. But I have nothing to feel guilty about. I did nothing wrong.

The door swings open so heavily the handle creates a dent in the wall. Hudson stands in the doorway, wrestling with the buttons on his shirt. “Did you like it, Fin? Did you like the way he looked at you?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I get ready for bed, ignoring Hudson as he rants.

“Did you want him to kiss you? Did you want him to stick his fingers inside you? Did you—”

I can’t stand it anymore. “Just shut up, Hudson. You’re drunk. I don’t like you when you’re drunk. You’re mean.”

“But here’s the thing.” Hudson stalks over to me, tossing his shirt to the floor. “You do like me when I’m drunk.” He leans forward so his breath hits my ear as he speaks. “Because when I’m this drunk, I can’t remember why I don’t want to fuck you.” His mouth falls to my neck, sloppy and lazy, but still fueled with heat and desire.

I wish I could say I pushed him away, that I tell him he can’t just take me or leave me when he wants. But I don’t.

I’m so pitiful, I’ll take anything I can get.

My head rolls to the side, exposing more of my flesh to his mouth. He devours me hungrily, messily. His breath comes out as groans and pants as his tongue swipes over my collarbones.

My body responds like the Hudson-slut it is. Moisture pools between my legs so painfully I twist them together in a vain effort to reduce some of the ache. My hands plaster themselves to Hudson’s chiseled chest as his hands wind into my hair. He tugs on it, forcing my head back and increasing the pain of my desire. His flesh feels soft and smooth and firm and rough under my fingers. I explore his body feverishly as though I’m scared that at any moment, it will be taken from me.

His mouth feels divine and I push myself against him greedily, needing him to take more of me, feel more of me, touch, taste every part of me. It feels as though I’ve been parched and am finally allowed to drink. My fingers dive for the buttons of his jeans, ripping them apart and pushing his trousers and boxers down his hips until they fall into a puddle on the floor. He steps out of them clumsily, lurching toward me as his feet get caught in the cuffs.

He peels the clothes from my body at the same time as I wrap my fingers around his hardness. I cannot help the groan that escapes. It’s everything I’ve been longing for. Everything I’ve been dreaming of. He feels so familiar and yet so foreign at the same time. His cock strains, the tip pushing against my stomach as my hands work him furiously.

He grunts, his body convulsing, and he pulls away from me. “Careful,” he hisses. “I want to be inside you when I come.” Even though the words are lazy, laced with alcohol, they still do such naughty and good, dirty and bad things to my body.

The moisture between my legs is sliding down my thighs now, slick and slippery. He pushes me to the bed. His fingers claw at my underwear, tugging them down my legs and throwing them onto the floor. And then he clambers on top of me. My legs fall open and he pushes between them. He’s gloriously hard.

“Oh, fuck.” His words are both a sigh and a curse.

I grip his shoulder, digging my nails into his flesh, writhing under him, meeting his thrusts with my own, both of us driving into each other, nothing but a whirlwind of fury and lust and need.

I cling to him as though I’m afraid he will vanish. Small grunts and moans and pants fall from my mouth with each thrust.The slaps of our bodies are mixed with the squelch of my arousal.

It is dirty and unrestrained and raw.

Hudson drives into me powerfully, time and time again. I feel every inch of him, gasp every time he takes me deeply, and clench around him as though trying to keep him from ever leaving.

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