Page 39 of Say You Love Me

Because no matter how much there’s a part of me that wants to deny it, Hudson was turned on. His cock had been straining against his pants the entire time. And when I locked eyes with him, there was hunger there, plain and raw. He liked watching Rylee taste my lips. He liked watching him suck my nipple into his mouth and tease it with his teeth.

But yet, I’m still lying here alone.

I can hear him moving about downstairs but I don’t know what he’s doing. There’s no drone of the television, only the creak of floorboards as he walks back and forth. I want him to race up the stairs. I want him to rip the clothes from his body and toss them to the floor. I want him to climb onto me and sink into me. I want to feel his hardness between my hands, in my mouth, inside of me.

I’m almost squirming with anticipation when the door finally opens. But his movements are slow and deliberate. His clothes come off in an orderly fashion and he slides under the sheets without a word.

I hold my breath as he moves closer, scared to even breathe when his arms slip around my waist, spooning me. I start to turn, wanting to face him but he tightens his grip.

“Stay,” is all he says.

And then his hands start to move over my body. I’m naked under the sheets and his fingers drag over my skin almost painfully. I press into him and sigh when I feel the hardness of his erection. I want to push him to his back and climb on top. I want to sink onto him and ride him until the taste of Rylee’s lips is long forgotten.

But I don’t. I whimper and I writhe under his touch, but I don’t move away. I don’t take control. I don’t do anything but let him run his hands all over me. He massages my breasts. It’s painful and rough but I wouldn’t have it any other way. And then his hand slides down my body and between my legs. He opens my thighs, hooking my leg up and over his hip so I’m slanted toward him, open to his touch.

He moans when his fingers reach my wetness and he plays with my clit, rubbing back and forth with his finger until I’m panting and crying out for more.

Then he pushes his fingers inside me. Roughly. Deeply. His body curls around mine, adjusting for a better angle, shoving his fingers inside me as deeply as they can go. I don’t even know how many fingers he’s using. All I know is that I open wider for him, filled with debauched desire, thrusting my hips against him shamelessly. He finger fucks me until I start panting his name.

“Hudson. Hudson. Oh my god…”

“Say his name,” he whispers in my ear, his breath hot and heavy.

I shake my head. I was so close to coming but now I’m chasing it, moving my hips, squirming beneath his touch, trying to get back to that place.

Hudson removes his fingers from between my legs and pinches my nipple.

“Say his name.”

I whimper from the pain, surprised at the rush of wetness that drenches my core.

“Say his name,” he says more urgently. “Say his name and I’ll fuck you with my fingers again.”

I’m tight with arousal. All I want is to come. I’m desperate. Needy. Wretched.

“Rylee,” I breathe.

Images of him flash through my mind. The way he looked at me when I first put my hand on his knee. That look of hesitation and excitement. The curls of his hair. The way one eyebrow was slightly higher than the other ensuring there was always a playful, eager look about him.

Hudson lets go of my nipple and eases his fingers inside.

“Again,” he commands.

“Rylee,” I say his name louder this time. With more longing. And picture the dark freckles on his face, his carefree smile and thick eyebrows.

Hudson’s fingers start to thrust in and out.

“Rylee,” I moan. The feel of his lips, so soft, so ardent.

He pushes harder, curling his fingers at just the right angle and I scream Hudson’s name, clamping around his fingers viciously as fireworks detonate inside me.

Hudson’s fingers are drenched with me when he pulls them out. He moves away, putting distance between us. I turn to face him and he stares at me as he licks his fingers clean one at a time.

“That was—”

Hudson holds a finger against my mouth. It smells of me. “Just go to sleep,” he says. And then he rolls over, turning his back to me once again.

For hours I lie awake. The thoughts in my mind keep crashing together. Hudson. Rylee. Everything that happened in between. I love my husband, but there is no denying the way I felt with Rylee. Would I have felt that way if Hudson wasn’t there to witness it? Would my heart have raced so fast? Would every touch have felt like fire and ice all at once?

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