Inferno Anthology

by Gow, Kailin

  His authoritative tone and circling thumb were my undoing. I threw my head back into the wall, my cunt trembling as my orgasm crashed through me. He followed, groaning my name while he released into me in long, hot spurts.

  I unwrapped my legs from his waist and felt numbly for the floor with my foot, knowing that he couldn’t possibly continue to carry me after that violent of a release. Though he no longer held my weight, he didn’t let go of me.

  “Can we do that again?” I panted, before our bodies had even cooled.

  His brow furrowed as he released his grasp on me to look at his watch. “You have to be to work at one? I think we can manage to do that again twice.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Okay, H, we need to have a heart to heart.” We’d been on the road to the Hamptons for less than ten minutes, but I was too anxious to postpone this conversation. I swiveled in the front seat of the Mercedes and pushed my sunglasses to my head so I could see Hudson clearly.

  He glanced sideways at me, his own eyes hidden behind his dark Ray Bans. “Sounds intriguing.”

  I took a deep breath. “I have some grievances about last night.”

  His brow rose skeptically over his sunglasses, but he kept his eyes on the road.

  “Not that part of last night.” I hit his arm playfully. “The earlier part of the night. The later part was fine.”

  He frowned. “Only fine?”

  “More than fine,” I laughed. “It was spectacular. Incredibly spectacular.” My thighs tensed just thinking about the sensual delight we’d experienced the night before at the loft. A kernel of insecurity crept in under my praise, causing me to wonder if he felt the same. Bracing myself, I asked, “How did you think it was?”

  “Fine.” His smirk let me know that he was teasing, but I lightly pinched his thigh anyway. Another excuse to touch him.

  He took one hand off the wheel and grabbed the hand that had pinched him. “Careful! I’m driving.” He brought my hand to his mouth and nipped at my finger before letting it go. “But you have grievances?”

  I pushed away thoughts that his mouth on my skin had elicited. “Yes. I do. I was not prepared for the situation you put me in. I need to know more going forward. I knew nothing about the Werners being at the symphony last night. Couldn’t you have at least given me a heads up?”

  Hudson took off his sunglasses and studied me, as if trying to gauge my seriousness.

  I was very serious. I was tired of always being in the dark about him and the world that he weaved me in and out of so flippantly.

  He tucked his sunglasses into the compartment above his mirror, not needing them anymore with the sun setting and us directed east. “Except for your predilection for putting your hands all over me—”

  “Oh, don’t exaggerate.”

  “—you were magnificent.” He was serious as well, which shocked me. I felt anything but magnificent. “How would any information I could have given you have changed how you performed?”

  I opened my mouth but found I didn’t have a specific answer. “I would have been more at ease because I was prepared.” That was the best I could come up with. “The same goes for the day at the fashion show. I could have handled your mother, Celia—” I paused, wanting to indicate what I’d found out about his past without actually saying it. “You know, the whole day would have been better if I’d been prepared.”

  “Again, I thought you were brilliant.”

  “Not on the inside. And it’s the inside stuff that makes me do crazy things. Like stalk office buildings.” I winced as I mentioned the embarrassing behavior that I wished I could forget. But if I wanted to be well, I needed to address my insecurities, and not knowing much about Hudson led to many of mine. “Anyway, I have you trapped in a car for over two hours—”

  “Are you sure I don’t have you trapped?”

  “You’re driving. I’m providing the entertainment.” Though, I found his uncharacteristic playfulness extremely entertaining as well.

  “I like the sound of that.” He grinned, sneaking a look at my bare legs.

  I resisted the urge to tug at my black skort, one of my prizes from shopping at Mirabelle’s. I enjoyed that he liked looking at me, but his gaze turned me on to the nth degree and I wanted to keep focused. “Stop interrupting. We are playing a get-to-know-each-other game.” I put my hand up as if to shush him. “Don’t even say whatever it is you’re about to say. If we have any hope of fooling your family when we’re with them twenty-four/seven then we need to know more about each other.”

  “I already know plenty about you.” This time his gaze went to the bosom of my super tight tee.

  “No, you don’t.” I snapped my fingers by my face to get his attention to move upward. “Have you ever gotten to know a woman—nonsexually? Besides from a background check?”

  “Not on purpose.”

  His answer was quick and honest. And it pissed me off. “Hudson, you’re kind of an asshole.”

  “So I’ve been told.” He met my glowering eyes. “Fine. How do we play this game of yours?”

  The triumph wiped out my irritation. “We’ll take turns. On your turn you can either ask a question or tell a fact about yourself. Your choice. Nothing too heavy. Basic stuff. I’ll go first. I don’t like mushrooms.”

  His eyes widened. “You don’t like mushrooms? What is wrong with you?”

  “They’re gross. They taste like rotten olives.”

  “They taste nothing like olives.”

  “They taste like rotten olives. I can’t stand them.” I made a face to show my disgust, but inside I was ecstatic that he was taking an interest in what I had shared. I hadn’t been sure he would. Especially with such a benign subject as food tastes.

  Hudson shook his head, seemingly bewildered by my confession. “That’s a terrible inconvenience. That has to hinder your fine dining experiences.”

  “Tell me about it.” For some reason, mushrooms seemed to be in a great deal of fancy recipes. “Imagine my horror when my senior prom date made dinner for me and it was chicken Marsala.”

  His eye twitched, almost unnoticeably. “Your senior prom date? Was this a serious relationship?” His voice had also tensed slightly.

  I narrowed my eyes. Was he jealous? “Are you asking that question for your turn?”

  “Uh, yes, I suppose I am.”

  He was jealous. Of a high school prom date. I was flattered. “It was a serious relationship for me. Not for Joe.”

  “Joe sounds terrible.” But his smile returned.

  “Thank you. He was.” Hudson pulled onto the Interstate, and I put my sunglasses in my purse. “My turn.” I sat back, chewing my lip. I’d eased us into the game, but now I wanted some answers. Something good. “Why do you never call people by their nicknames?”

  He groaned. “Because nicknames are so gaudy. Call a person by their given name. That’s why they have it.”

  I rolled my eyes. He was so formal. Sometimes I wasn’t sure I even liked the guy. That was part of the reason I had wanted to play this game. I had to know if my attraction went beyond the physical.

  And I really wanted him to call me by my nickname. “But nicknames show a degree of familiarity.”

  “You tell everyone to call you Laynie. Even people you’ve just met.”

  Because answering to Alayna was weird. The only people who had really called me Alayna were my parents. “Maybe I feel familiar with everyone I meet.” I made an effort to say my next words casually, as if the fact didn’t really bother me. “And you call Celia by a nickname.”

  “Really?” He knew it bothered me. I hadn’t covered well enough. “She’s the only person on earth, Alayna. I’ve known her my whole life. I didn’t even know her name was really Celia until I was almost ten.”

  I crossed my legs, pleased when he glanced as I did so, and swung my foot with irritation. “If you are trying to convince people you care more about me than Celia, then you should have a nickname for me. It will establish e
ndearment.” And I really wanted his endearment.

  “Calling me ‘H’ shows endearment?”

  My phone vibrated in my pocket. I lifted my hips so I could pull it out, and Hudson eyed me as I did so. “It does. I don’t go for the real lovey-dovey words like sweetie and honey. But Hudson is way too formal.”

  “I like formal.”

  “I like cherry-flavored blow pops. It doesn’t make them appropriate for every situation.”

  “Blow pops?”

  “Yeah…blow pops.” I planned to respond with a sexy comeback, but was distracted by reading the text on my phone. It was from Brian asking me to call him. I’d ignored all of the texts he’d sent over the last week, and wasn’t about to start answering now. I threw my phone into my lap, frustrated. He didn’t know I’d found a solution to my money issues and still expected me to give in to his terms. Not happening.

  “You didn’t like ‘baby’?” Hudson’s question pulled me back to the car.

  My answer held the tension I meant for Brian. “Not so much.” Only because it was unoriginal and insincere. It wasn’t a name Hudson had picked specifically for me.

  “I’m sticking with Alayna.”

  I turned to him and glared. “Come on. You could call me ‘precious’ every now and then in front of other people.”

  “No way,” he murmured.

  “Why? You call me that sometimes already.”

  His voice rumbled low and quiet and serious. “That’s private.”

  I shivered. Even if his tone hadn’t indicated the matter was settled, I would have dropped it. His answer was perfect—sensual and even a little romantic. Not like I was getting my hopes up romantic, just sort of sweet.

  Hmm. Hudson never failed to surprise me. I shook my head. “It’s your turn.”

  My phone buzzed again. Another text from Brian. This time saying he was coming to see me first thing the next day. And I wouldn’t be there. Guess the laugh was on him. I grinned as I turned off my phone and stuffed it back into my pocket.

  When my focus returned to Hudson, he was eyeing me, his brow cocked. “Who keeps texting you?”

  Something about his jealousy made me want to purr. “Is that your question?”

  “It is.”

  I considered making something up, something that would really provoke envy from the man, but the game was meant to be about honest answers. “My brother. He’s an asshole.”

  “Like I’m an asshole?” he asked, recalling what I’d said to him minutes before.

  “Worse. He’s an asshole who doesn’t know it.”

  Hudson grinned. “And you’re ignoring Brian?”

  He knew Brian’s name. It made me realize that he already knew I had a brother. I wondered what else Hudson knew about Brian. And my parents. My whole life.

  Well, if he wanted to know anything more about Brian he’d have to wait until his turn. “You already asked your question. It’s my turn. I lost my virginity when I was sixteen.”

  I meant it to be a shocker, still irritated about Brian’s constant texts and Hudson’s knowledge of things he shouldn’t know about me until I told him. “Sixteen? Fuck, Alayna. I don’t think I want to know that.”

  “Sorry.” I smiled.

  He shook his head, his eyes narrow. “I seriously doubt this is going to come up in conversation with my family.”

  “You never know.”

  “Who was the guy?”

  His jealousy was seriously hot. “Is that your turn?”

  “No.”

  I cocked my head, questioning his sincerity.

  He changed his mind. He couldn’t help himself. “Yes.”

  I didn’t even try to hide my elation. “He was a random guy I met at a party. I thought that having sex would help me forget that my parents had died. It did not.”

  “No, I suppose it wouldn’t.”

  He sounded sympathetic and I was glad he didn’t press. It had been an awful time in my life. My parents’ fatal car accident had pushed me to behave in ways I wasn’t proud. Random sex, excessive drinking, drug experimentation. And then the addiction that had stuck—obsessive love, which shouldn’t be called love at all, but rather obsessive wanna-be-loved. If I was really with Hudson, I mean really his girlfriend, then he should know all the details, and I liked to think I’d tell him. But for a strange moment, I was exceptionally glad that I wasn’t really with Hudson so I wouldn’t have to tell him.

  Whoa. Did that mean that there were other moments when I wanted to be really with him? When had that started?

  I shot a glance at Hudson who seemed to be heavy in his own thoughts. What would it take to get in there? I tried to guess what he could be so absorbed with. “What were you doing in Cincinnati?”

  “Business.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. It was so much easier to have sex with the man than to get him to share anything real. “That’s not very much of an answer.”

  “I wouldn’t talk to my girlfriend about business.”

  “You wouldn’t be my boyfriend if you didn’t.” Despite finally believing that Hudson was indeed out-of-town that week, insecurity nagged at me still. I pushed for more information. “Didn’t your mom and dad talk about business with each other?”

  “My parents don’t talk about anything. If Dad’s at the house when we get there, he will not sleep in the same room with Mother. Loveless marriage, remember?”

  “Not a good example then.” I tried a different tactic. “Look. I’m a business major. I like to know about these things.” I licked my lips purposefully. “Doesn’t my smart mind turn you on?”

  “Your smart mind, not mine.” But he was hiding a smile.

  I slipped my hand down his thigh. “Come on. I’ve shown you mine. Show me yours.”

  He couldn’t resist me in full flirtation mode. He sighed. “There’s been some outside interest in Plexis, one of my smaller companies. But I’m not keen to sell to this particular buyer. The other members of the board feel differently.”

  Hudson furrowed his brow and I thought he’d finished, but he went on. “Actually it’s been quite stressful, fighting to keep Plexis together when so many are opposed. Many stand to gain a sizable profit from a sale. I know that this buyer would run the place to the ground. The company would be torn apart. People would lose their jobs.”

  I sat mesmerized. In his brief divulgence, I saw something besides his passion for his companies and the people that worked for them. I saw him relax and maybe even enjoy telling me about something that weighed heavily on him. Did he have anyone he shared these things with? It didn’t seem likely.

  He noticed me staring and he shifted.

  I was sure he’d be disturbed to discover how much I’d discerned from such a brief conversation. So I deflected and lightened the mood. “Thank you! Was that really so terrible?”

  His mouth tightened into a straight line, but I saw the gleam in his eyes. “I’m not answering that. It’s not your turn.” He only paused a second before he said, “Fine. It wasn’t that terrible. That’s what I’m offering for my turn.”

  “Hudson?” I asked softly, hoping he didn’t see the full extent of my adoration in just the speaking of his name.

  “Yes, precious?”

  “You aren’t really an asshole.”

  He brought one finger to his mouth. “Shh. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

  We continued the game through dinner at a clam bar in Sayville, covering a variety of topics from favorite movies to worst dates to first kisses. Hudson and I had very few things in common, but that only intrigued me more, and I had the distinct impression he felt the same. Most of our differences seemed to come from our backgrounds rather than our tastes. I didn’t know if I loved the opera—I’d never been. And my favorite pastime—buying one movie ticket and sneaking into several movies after—was born of a lack of funds that Hudson had never experienced.

  Underneath it all, we both knew we shared one very vital commonality—our destructive pasts. Tho
ugh we seldom spoke of it, it shadowed many of our confessions. But unlike with other men when I went through the routine of talking about myself, I didn’t feel like I was holding back the truth. I wasn’t lying, like I had to so many others. We didn’t talk about it, but it didn’t lie in the deep recesses of ourselves, threatening to be revealed. It made the simple exchanges between us easier and more poignant.

  After dinner when we returned to the road, we played the game at a relaxed pace, letting long moments of comfortable silence fill the spaces between turns. Finally, Hudson turned off Old Montauk Highway onto a private drive. At the gate midway down the entry, he entered a code that opened the wooden doors and allowed us to continue past the high hedge to the circle driveway. He stopped the car in front of a traditional two-story estate.

  “We’re here,” he said in a sing-song voice not typical of Hudson Pierce.

  My mouth fell open as I stared up at the mansion, clearly lit with bright torchlights like the fountain in the center of the circle drive. I’d tried not to think too much about Hudson’s money, not wanting that to be the focus of my attraction to him, but if there was ever a time to be appreciative of his wealth, this was it. The stone house was breathtaking and extravagant, the kind of thing I’d only seen in movies.

  “It’s…wow.”

  Hudson laughed. “Come on. You’ll love the inside.”

  I opened the car door, immediately overwhelmed with the smell of the ocean air mingled with a variety of early summer blooming flowers. The front doors opened and an older balding man in a light gray suit approached us.

  “Good evening, Martin,” Hudson said, slipping his arm around my waist. “This is my girlfriend, Alayna Withers. Martin is our household assistant.”

  “A pleasure, Ms. Withers,” Martin said, taking my hand. After he released it, he spoke to Hudson. “Mr. Pierce, I’ll set your bags in the guest suite in the west wing.”