by Olivia Chase
I spend the rest of the night ignoring Hudson. I don’t look his way once. I turn my focus to my customers, on making sure my area is clean and ready. At least I’m keeping my shit together. Kinda. It’s hard faking like nothing is wrong, but I do it.
Finally, thank God, the shift ends. The bar empties out, and I turn my attention toward getting my area prepped for tomorrow. When I’m done, and I finish all my tasks, I exit the bar without a word to any of the Becketts. Since it was forecasted to be a beautiful night, I decided this afternoon to walk to and from work.
And maybe I did it knowing that Hudson doesn’t like me walking alone at night.
Well screw him.
The night air is warm, but it’s welcome. There’s a light breeze that glides across my skin. I look up at the star-speckled sky as I walk. How have I managed to screw things up so royally? To get entangled in this town?
Instead of finding another job in Rock Bridge, I should take my cash and run. I have enough to make it further west. It’s the smart thing to do. I should cut bait while I still can, before I end up getting hurt.
A car slows beside me, and a window rolls down. “Marissa, get in.” It’s Hudson, speaking in a clipped tone.
My heart is racing so hard that I’m afraid it’s going to burst out of my chest. “I’m fine, thanks,” I say in an icy tone. I’m tired of him doing this to me, the ups and downs, the heat and then the withdrawal. It’s too much.
I deserve better than that.
“Get. In. The. Car.”
His barked words are hot and insistent, and though I hate myself a little for it, I find my steps stalling in response to him. Shit. I’m totally going to be that stupid girl who does what he demands. But I can’t help it. When Hudson gets bossy, it pulls something deep inside me.
I cross in front of his car and get in. I don’t look at him.
He drives to my motel and pulls into a parking spot. Turns off his car. “Tell me to drop you off here and drive away.”
There’s something in his voice that gives me pause. A vulnerability that I haven’t heard before. He’s almost begging me to send him away. I look over at him. He’s tense, tight, his jaw flexing, his hands clenched on the steering wheel.
Hudson wants me.
The realization hits me hard. He wants me, has wanted me all along, but he’s denying himself. It isn’t me at all—I didn’t misread things between us. It’s him.
I draw in a steadying breath. “No. I won’t tell you that.”
“Why not?”
I take a deep breath. “Because I don’t want you to leave me.”
And that seems to unleash whatever is in him. He moves like a python and wraps himself around me, possessing my mouth, hands roaming my body with a ferocity I never expected. I moan, instantly aroused by the passion that has exploded. I dig my hands in his hair, clenching hard, tugging him closer to me. I need him so badly. My pussy is drenched for him already. Again. Always.
Hudson rips the door open, stalks to my side, then tugs me out. We go to my apartment, and with shaky hands, I manage to open the door.
Since I’m staying at a motel, the bed is on display front and center as soon as we walk in. I’m burning all over, unsure what this means, where this thing with him is going. But God help me, I want whatever he’ll give me, as foolish as it is. I just crave him. More than I’ve ever wanted another human being in my entire life.
“Take off your clothes,” Hudson orders me. He stares at me, not moving, his gaze locked on mine.
Oh God, his intensity is going to be my undoing. I manage to slide out of my clothing and stand naked before him, bared completely. He hasn’t seen me like this before. A flush of embarrassment spreads across my chest and up my throat.
He doesn’t move. “Lie down on the bed and spread your legs open.”
My pussy is drenched at his words. Holy shit. I do as he demands. I can’t resist. I can’t deny him. My body is his for whatever he’ll take.
Hudson finally stalks over. He slowly removes his shoes and shirt. Jeans. Boxer briefs. Then he’s standing there naked before me, cock raging hard, bouncing between us. My mouth waters at the sight. He’s muscled and lean I want to lick and touch him everywhere.
He leans down to his jeans pocket and grabs a foil packet. Oh God, he has a condom with him. Has he been planning this? Does he normally just carry one around…in case someone at the bar wants to have sex with him? Am I an idiot for thinking I may be special to him?
All doubts are removed from my mind as he slides the condom on and then crawls onto the bed. I don’t know why, but right now, he’s letting me see his emotions on his face—lust, mingled with something much deeper. His intense eyes reveal what he’s feeling, the strength overwhelming me. I can’t help but arch toward him, my nipples rock hard, my clit swollen and begging for his touch.
When he settles on top of me, between my thighs, his hard dick sliding along my slit, I groan and wrap around him.
“Tell me to go home,” he says once more.
“Fuck me,” I say in response.
And then he’s sliding that hard cock in my pussy, and I groan so loud I’m sure the entire neighborhood can hear. Oh God, it’s been a long time for me, and he’s so big and stretching me wide open for him.
“Sweet Jesus,” he groans, “you’re so fucking tight and wet. Oh my fucking God.” He pulls out almost all the way, then plunges back in again. His hands are all over me, his mouth buried against my neck, and I would give him anything he wanted of me in this moment. Anything.
When he leans up and captures my mouth, I am lost.
We kiss. He tastes sexy, warm, and he kisses so good that it just makes me wetter. His cock slides easier inside me. Wow, the sensations overwhelming me… I buck beneath him. I dig my nails into his back.
In response, he grabs my wrists and pins them above my head. His gaze screams danger as he looks at me. “You need to be fucked so hard, don’t you.”
“Yes,” I beg, practically mewling for him. “Please. I need it so badly.”
He slowly, so slowly, withdraws from me, then plunges deep. Our groans mingle. And then he fucks me in earnest, his cock working me, our breaths tangled, his hands clenching my wrists so tight that I’m almost afraid it might cut off circulation. And I don’t even care.
Because I feel so good that I could die happy right now.
I’m falling apart, piece by piece, as Hudson fucks me, destroys me, shatters my body into a million pieces. My orgasm is right on the edge, his cock sliding along my G-spot so expertly. When he takes one hand off my wrists so he can run a deft finger along my clit, I explode.
I’m gone. Soaring, screaming, crying out his name. Giving everything I have to this man, who has owned me so deeply that I don’t even know myself anymore. And I don’t care.
“Fuck yes,” he says with a roar. “Give me that come, baby!”
And I do. I cream all over his cock, and he continues to drill me. “Please…” I beg him, not quite sure what I’m begging for.
But he seems to know. He thrusts harder in me, so hard that I’m certain he’s going to rip me in half, and I don’t even care. I drop my knees to my side and arch my pelvis so he can take me as deeply as possible. I want him buried. I want us to be inseparable. I want so much that I can’t even let myself think about it right now.
“I’m going to come,” he says as a warning.
“Come on my mouth,” I tell him boldly. I want to be dirty with him. To please him. To surprise him.
He doesn’t pause, pulling out of me and ripping off the condom. Straddles my upper chest, stroking my hair. His cock is so close to my mouth as he pumps it a few times.
And then he’s gushing all over my lips, and I’m opening my mouth and swallowing every drop I can. I need to taste his salty come, need to arouse him.
Hudson is staring at my eyes the entire time as he unloads his orgasm, his legs shaking around my torso. I’m so turned on that my whole body hurts. I’m so t
urned on that I need him to feel the way I do. I don’t know what to do with this volcano of emotion, of arousal, but I let myself drown in it.
When he’s done coming, he gently lifts off of me and then runs his fingers along my mouth to scoop up what I didn’t drink. I open my lips obediently, and he slides them along my tongue, letting me suck them off.
Then he lies down beside me, and I shift into his arms.
I can feel his heart slowing as his ribcage presses against my back.
We remain silent for a long time. I don’t know what to think, what to say. What does any of this mean? I’m feeling so many things right now. And I have no idea where he is. Hell, I didn’t think this would even happen. And it was hotter and dirtier than I could have imagined.
Am I the only one feeling confused?
I dare a glance up at him. He’s staring at my face, the mask back in place.
I bite my lower lip. “Um. So.”
“So,” he echoes.
“I…guess we’ve reached a new level in boss/employee relationships.” A light comment is all I have right now. I’m sated, confused, and tired now, my energy drained.
He gives me a small smile, but I can see from his eyes that it’s real, not forced. The mask is chipping away. With lazy strokes, his fingers move across my arm, and I let myself give a small sigh of pleasure. “Growth is always good.”
The drowsiness overtakes me, and I fall asleep in his arms.
I wake up alone. I’m not that surprised about it…I didn’t expect him to stick around. But admittedly, I’m a little disappointed. I wanted to see what Hudson is like in the morning. That might be a bit too intimate though.
I stretch, realizing I’m tender at my apex and remembering everything that happened last night. Oh God, that was so hot. So ridiculously, impossibly hot. Everything he does to me just stokes my inner fire. Makes me yearn for more.
I grab my phone to check the time and see I have a text. From Hudson. My stomach does a little flip. Didn’t want to wake you. See you at work tonight. Be a good girl for me and wear your short black dress, black bra, and black panties with the tie on the back.
I write back, Yes, sir, with a winky face, then put my phone down and stretch out on the bed. My smile can’t be contained.
The next couple of weeks go along the same way. Since September’s weather is nice in Michigan, I continue wearing tiny outfits of his choice. We also continue doing our daily interludes…which now include sex. Not that it’s a punishment. But he does everything he can to own my body—spanking, pulling my hair, even blindfolding me one time. I’ve never looked forward to work as much as I do now.
Except when Conor comes in.
Today, he’s sitting at the table with his cohorts, laughing and talking loudly. He even has a gorgeous, lithe blonde sitting beside him, looking at him like he’s the center of her universe. Not that he’s paying her much attention, other than squeezing her breast every once in a while.
I’ve never been around mobsters before, of course, but it’s obvious that Conor and his gang are extremely dangerous people. The vibe pours off of them in waves. Yeah, they’re splashing around in Fugitives, spending lots and lots of money here and creating an atmosphere that seems to attract customers—the nights they come are way busier than usual.
But I can see the writing on the wall. It’s going to turn ugly if it keeps going this way. Something bad will happen.
Conor spies me and waves me over from where I’m exiting a nearby table, having delivered a tray full of drinks—Axel’s on bartender duty tonight, so I’m serving. A wash of disdain hits me, but I try to push it aside and approach the red haired man’s table with a smile.
“You guys need a refill on your beer?” I ask Conor.
He smirks. “I need something else if you’re offering.”
The blonde doesn’t even react to the blatant flirting with me. It’s obvious she’s used to it or knows that’s just how he is.
“Like a cocktail?” I ask with a fake smile.
“If it’s my cock and your tail, I’m in.” His reply makes the guys at the table cackle. Conor rises and leaves the table, coming to stand in front of me. “Is tonight the night I’m going to get lucky and get your phone number, sexy?”
My throat closes up, and I struggle to fight the urge to run away.
My smile is fragile at best. “I don’t think your lady friend would appreciate that very much.” The words are wishy-washy, but I’m treading on shaky ground here and am afraid to insult him.
Conor leans forward until his lips brush my ear. “Oh, she’d be interested in all three of us playing.”
“Marissa,” Hale hollers from behind the bar, a row of drinks lined up in front of him. “Can you take these to table six?”
Saved. Thank God. I pull away with a regretful look on my face. Well, I hope it looks that way. “We’ll be back later to get you more drinks when you’re ready, okay? Thanks!” Then I dart to the bar and load up a tray.
I spot Hudson heading from the back room into his office, so after I finish dispensing the drinks, I move after him and close the door behind us. He looks up from his desk, wide-eyed. “What’s up?” he asks. His look turns to a frown when he notices my face. “What’s wrong, Marissa?” His tone is firmer now.
I suck in a breath. “I’m…concerned about Conor.” This isn’t the first time I’ve brought Conor up to him, but my sense of alarm is getting stronger. Every time he comes in, the scene gets rowdier, and more dangerous people come along with him.
His eyes grow hooded. “Oh? Has he done something out there?”
“Um, not really.” Other than asking me to be in a threesome.
But just as I’m considering telling him what Conor’s said to me, I picture what might happen next.
Hudson rushing out and confronting a dangerous mobster over my honor?
What if it turned violent?
No, I can’t let things get out of hand. Conor was just being a nasty jerk, but he was harmless and so far he’s done nothing but talk and make comments.
Hudson glances up at me. “Not really?”
I shrug. “He just gives me bad vibes.”
“Join the club,” Hudson says flatly. He looks down at his paperwork again, dismissing me. Shutting me down. A surge of frustration fills me. I know he’s the boss and I’m not trying to take over. I just wish he’d listen to me every once in a while.
Fine.
I spin around and leave his office.
There’s no punishment scene tonight, which is good, because I’m irritated with him anyway. Hudson stays back in his office, out of sight but not out of mind. Unfortunately. I asked Axel to switch with me, which he did with no problem, so at least I got to dodge dealing with Conor the rest of the shift.
When work is over, I clean up, hop in my car, and go right to my hotel room. I shower. Make a quick sandwich to tide me over. Lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, my emotions churning in my belly. I have to stop letting Hudson get under my skin. He’s just my boss, and he’s made it clear that he doesn’t want anything else from me except for fooling around. And when I “cross the line” by daring to do something like offer my opinion or ask him to give me more than what he is, he’s just going to withdraw from me again. It’s a clear pattern.
I’m exhausted by it. He’s got me all tangled up. I fall into a restless sleep, trying not to remember what it was like having him here beside me.
Today is the first day I didn’t get a text from Hudson telling me what to wear. Despite me being frustrated with him, I’m also feeling pangs of disappointment. And this is my fault. I let myself get caught up in him, in the dirtiness of our interludes.
So I dress in what I feel like wearing instead. I wear my favorite jeans, a silky top that hugs my curves, and I curl my hair. I’ll be damned if I don’t look my best when I go to work, finish my shift, and then tell him I’m quitting. Because I can’t and won’t keep doing this anymore with him. I’ll either find another bar
to work at in Rock Bridge, or I’ll just leave.
My hand shakes a little as I put on my mascara, so I take a moment to relax. I’m not letting him get to me anymore. I’m tired of feeling disposable and unimportant. Like he only wants me around when it’s convenient for him. Like I’m only good for fucking or dirty play…and on his schedule. I want more, a real relationship, and this man won’t give it to me.
I press my lips together to fight back a heavy sigh. I’m not going to be upset by this. Hudson can’t and won’t let himself feel emotions—he holds himself back. But I want his emotions. All of them. I can’t settle for less.
I spend my afternoon going to the store. Paying bills. Checking out social media. Then I drive to work, my stomach a knot so tight that it hurts.
It’s raining out, so I bundle up in my jacket and run from the car to the bar. It’s hard to control my nervousness, the erratic beat of my heart. I struggle to maintain calm and evenness during my shift. Axel and Hale joke around with me, but I don’t say much—it’s hard to be light-hearted when I feel like I’m ripping off a Band-Aid.
Hudson is walking around the floor, talking to customers. I keep my attention on the bar, on mixing drinks, on getting my tasks done. I have no idea if he’s even looking at me as I work, because I refuse to look at him.
The weeks of craziness are going to end tonight. My last night at Fugitives.
Around ten, Axel pops over. “Hey, Hudson needs to see you in his office.”
My stomach lurches. Maybe he’s figured out I’m going to quit. Because I’m sure he’s not bringing me in there to punish me. He wouldn’t send Axel to fetch me if so.
I keep my back straight as I walk into his office. I don’t close the door behind me, hovering in the doorway. “You were looking for me?” I say to him, getting his attention and making his head jerk up. I’m proud of how even and smooth my tone is. Not giving away the anxiety eating at my gut.
