Lucky Charms: A Hudson Family Series- Book 3- Dalton and Cami

by Chontelle Brison

  “I am so! I’m flushed, me palms are clammy, and I ache,” I retorted, hoping he didn’t ask where the ache was.

  “Where do you ache love?” his voice was deep and sultry again. Why did he keep using the word love? Was it just a term of endearment or did it mean more? Och, why do I even care? Because you want him to care, you dolt!

  Flustered and in discomfort, I punched his shoulder as hard as I could. The infuriating, mountain of a man, didn’t even flinch, “Where? Here!” I placed my hand over my stomach. “Deep in my belly and between me legs and even my breasts feel tender. It’s either the flu or my monthly, so you decide which one you want to risk being near,” I hissed at him. There, let’s see how much he wanted to be around me now, although I knew my monthly wasn’t due yet, I reasoned it could always come early.

  Again the bastard smiled at me, like he had solved the puzzle of, where Noah’s Ark was hidden. “You’re not getting sick and you’re not getting you’re period,” he told me, making sure to say “period” slowly, as if to let me know that the word didn’t frighten him. Asshat!

  “Then what is it then wise Yoda?” I asked, me voice dripping in sarcasm.

  He kissed me lips and I instantly opened for him. His moist, tongue found mine and for several minutes we played, teased and dueled with our tongues. The ache between me legs grew stronger, and I felt like I needed something, and the need was getting stronger. I broke from the kiss, gasping for air, and tried to turn away from him.

  Dalton, being the alpha male twit that he was, refused to let me curl up into the ball that I so desparetely wanted to.

  “What you need Camille is me! My hands, my fingers, my mouth, you need me, I can relieve that ache. I can make it all go away and give you the best orgasm you’ll ever have,” he purred into my ear.

  I snorted in disbelief, “Not bloody likely, I’ve had orgasms, me vibrator does a fine job. I have never had the aches I have now, and I’ve been using me vibrator for years,” I challenged, and his green eyes flashed with lust.

  “You let me touch you, the way I think you need to be touched, for five minutes and if you hate it, or you don’t feel better, I will stop. And we will never discuss it,” he shot back, his eyes deadly serious.

  Five minutes didn’t seem that long. Still, the idea of him touching me and me letting him, both excited and frightened me. Scolding myself for being a coward, I defiantly raised my chin and told him, “Fine have at it Hudson,” and then laid back and waited.

  Afterall, I wasn’t the same frigid woman I had been all these years; I had just brought a man to his knees and swallowed his cum without missing a drop - pat on the back for me! So, whatever Dalton thought he could do in five short minutes would be nothing compared to what I had done to him only five minutes ago!

  I was wrong, I was very, very wrong. Thirty seconds in and I knew I had made a terrible mistake. He worked his way from me collar bone to me breasts and, even when I gasped in shock, he didn’t stop. He sucked me breast into his mouth and brought his hand up to flick his fingertips across the nipple of the other. I groaned and arched me back shamelessy, trying to get closer, me sensations on overload. He suckled one breast, then the other, lavishing each nipple with licks, nips, and kneading.

  “Dalton, please,” I cried out in a voice I scarely recognized as me own. I wasn’t scared, or embarrassed, I wasn’t afraid of not being good enough; I was afraid that the pressure building in me was going to tear me apart if it didn’t get eased soon.

  “Three more minutes, babe,” he answered as he took me breast into his mouth again and sucked hard, almost to the point of pain. I thrashed me head about me pillow and thrust me hands into his hair, and I wasn’t sure if I mean to pull him away or pull him closer, but I seemed to do both. Then I felt one hand trail down me belly to the soft brown curls that covered me mound. I was so lost in me own pleasure that when I felt his finger slide against me wet folds, I almost arched clear off the bed.

  I heard Dalton chuckle as he gripped me hip with his left hand and his mouth began to follow the route his hand had just taken. No! He can’t mean to… he wouldn't be thinking of… Holy shite, he was, he is, and I’m going to die from the pleasure of it.

  I cried out his name again and, instead of the chuckle I expected, a sexy growl again escaped his throat as he plunged his tongue inside me before I had a chance to even know what we was about. I couldn’t stand it, yet I wanted more of it. I practically sobbed while I begged God for mercy, all while Dalton thrust his tongue in and out of me, and then, when I felt like I couldn’t stand anymore, he licked from the base of me vagina up to me clit. I felt me whole body shiver as he licked and then sucked me clit, repeating the action over and over again as I lifted me hips to grind against his greedy mouth. We were both moaning, and I felt the ache inside grow unbearable. “Dalton,” I gasped, and then begged, “help me,” even though I wasn’t sure what I was beggin' for, I just knew Dalton had the power to fix it.

  Taking both me hips in his hands, he held me arched lower half off the bed and his eyes slid half open, and the wild lust I saw there only made me buck harder into his mouth. The more I groaned and cried out, the harder he sucked, and then he was inserting one finger into me as he lowered me hips to the bed. His finger and tongue found a perfect rhythm and, before I knew it, I was exploding so hard that I literally saw stars as waves of pleasure washed over me, one right after the other.

  “Better, baby?” he whispered. I hadn’t even noticed that he had removed his hands and tongue and had pulled me against him in a tight cuddle.

  I was so boneless I felt that I couldn’t move if I wanted to, and I didn’t want to. There was no ignoring it any longer: I was exactly where I wanted to be, and that was definitely going to be a problem later.

  “Camille?” he asked again, and this time, a slight edge of concern clouded his tone.

  “That was the single most satisfying five minutes of me entire life, Dalton Hudson,” I confessed, at the moment not caring about whether he gloated or not. The man had skills and, if he wanted to gloat later, he had every right.

  He chuckled softly and pulled me tighter against him. Me lids drooped and I was almost asleep when he whispered, “You are truly my best friend, Camille Patrick,” as a way of complimenting me, but even as I drifted off to sleep, I felt slightly disappointed at the idea of just being his friend.

  Dalton

  Women! I don’t get it, I really, really don’t get it. Camille and I had a great night, a fucking fantastic night and, although I didn’t want to, I still managed to drag my sated ass out of her bed and slip into my room at the crack of too-fucking-early, just to make sure her parents were none-the-wiser, and today all I get is 'tude! As in attitude! Not only is she not speaking to me, but when I try to get her alone, she scurries off. No, don’t give me the "she must be embarrassed by how she came apart on you’re tongue last night" or "just give the girl time" crap! Uh-uh, this wasn't fear or embarrassment, her eyes were throwing daggers at me every time I walked near her and, for the life of me, I have no idea why, but it definitely wasn't buyer’s remorse; that hell cat was sated and satisfied last night, courtesy of yours truly. A fact I was intent on reminding her off as soon as I could corner the little minx.

  “Well, isn’t that odd?” Kathryn said while I was watching Camille talk with Jack on the couch. From my seat in the kitchen, it looked like I was happily enjoying the coffee that Kathryn had brewed for me. Unless you looked closer, then you’d see that my eyes hadn’t left the back of Camille’s head since she’d sat down on the sofa next to Jack.

  “Cami, didn’t you say all the paperwork for the marriages of Synclair and Sara were already processed and approved?” Kathryn asked, turning toward the pair in the living room.

  Camille got up from the sofa and walked over to her mother, completely ignoring the holes I was mentally burning into her head.

  “Yeah, we’ve had the paperwork for weeks now; we had to get special permission for Synclair to b
ring in the non-denominational priest that she wanted to use for the ceremony. Trust me, it was a big scene when Father Simmons found out a cousin of mine wasn’t going to be married in the Catholic church.” Camille gently took the paperwork from her mother and looked at it. Her eyes widened and she looked from me to her mother, and then to Jack and back to the paperwork, all while shaking her head. Impressive, I know.

  “This is a joke, right? Da, is this your handiwork? Because, if you're joshing me, it worked.” Camille’s forced laugh told me she was nervous. Her being nervous made me nervous, and that was never a good thing.

  I looked at Jack, who just stared at Camille in confusion until she stomped over and thrust the two pieces of paper in his hand and crossed her arms. I have to admit, it was kind of nice to see her pissed off at somebody that wasn’t me, for a change.

  Jack handed her the papers and chuckled. Clearly, he didn’t find whatever was there as world-ending as Camille and her mother had.

  “Melodramatic rides again,” I mumbled. I didn’t realize that anyone had heard me, but I should have guessed the girl would have Spider Man hearing.

  She walked over to where I was sitting and flung the papers down in front of me.

  “Melodramatic! I’m not bein' melodramatic, just a tad confused how someone could have requested a marriage license for you and I, Dalton, when I had no idea we were engaged," she screeched and my ears rang from the shrill in her voice.

  I looked down at the papers in front of me, confident she was reading them wrong. You had to apply for a marriage license, or whatever they called it, weeks before you got married, and you had to send in a copy of your passport and sign paperwork, too. I would definitely remember filling out a marriage license request or handing over a copy of my passport. Who the hell would petition for a marriage license for Camille and I?

  “Could this be a clerical error? Some sort of mix up with Reece or Lucas?” I asked, not exactly seeing how that could be, but hey, desperate times and all that.

  “No, it can not be,” Camille argued. “I have both Synclair and Sara’s licenses already, and since when have I ever spelled me name with a heart above the letter I?” she yelled as she stomped around.

  I looked at Camille’s signature, and there was only one person I knew of that dotted her eyes with hearts like that. Rachel, my younger, sneaky, matchmaking, try-to-cram-a-Disney-ending-down-everyone’s-throat, sweet, delusionally optimistic sister. I didn’t want to outright accuse her without speaking to her, but she had access to my passport since I kept in the file cabinet in the main house with everyone else's, and she knew my signature. The most damning bit of evidence was that she sat and watched both couples fill out their petition requests at the family dining room table months ago, so it stood to reason that Rachel was familiar with what needed to be done. The only thing lacking was motive. Why would Rachel petition for a marriage license for Camille and I, even before I had gotten on the damn plane to fly here? My best guess was that, in her sweet but misguided mind, she had decided that Camille was, “the one” and set out to make my Disney fairytale come true. While I loved her big heart, I really wanted to kick her sentimental butt.

  I sighed. This must have been how Synclair felt when she had found out that Rachel had set her up to show up in Carson City, believing Rachel was in trouble. All the while, Rachel knew who Synclair was to Reece and made certain Reece showed up before Synclair could bolt. It was actually pretty inventive and, at the time, I had thought her actions were hilarious. Now that she had turned her attentions on me, not so much.

  I pulled out my phone and shot off a text message to my little matchmaker. I didn’t care what time it was; if she didn’t answer, I’d call her until her nightmares were filled with ringing telephones. Suprisingly, she answered me back seconds later. No doubt, she was waiting by the phone, knowing I’d bust her sooner or later.

  7:52 a.m. Hey Big Bro, it’s midnight, what’s up?

  I fired off my answer, ignoring the curious stares from Camille and her parents.

  7:53 a.m. The jig is up, Rach, why is there a marriage license with mine and Camille’s names on it? GRRRRRR!

  7:54 a.m. What’s that?…Can’t here you…too much static on the line…try back later…love u

  7:54 a.m. RACHEL! It’s a text message, BRAT! THERE IS NO STATIC!

  I was glaring at my phone so hard that when Camille cleared her throat and I looked up, she was staring at me with one perfectly arched brown eyebrow raised in confusion.

  I was about to rat out my soon-to-be-dead sister when my phone pinged.

  7:55 a.m.

  GRRRRR! I slammed my phone on the table and looked around at the faces staring back at me.

  “Apparently, my baby sister has decided that Camille and I needed a little push in the romance department,” I offered with a shrug. Maybe if I made it sound like no big deal, then everyone else would feel that way too.

  Jack straight out laughed so hard he gripped his side, and Kathryn was beaming like she was totally on board with my sister’s insanity. Camille just stared at me like I had sprouted a horn out of the top of my head.

  “Are you serious? You’re as thick as manure and only half as useful,” she hissed as I sat there, trying to decipher her colorful insult.

  “Did you just call me cow shit?” I asked, offended. I had been called a lot of things, I’d even been called a piece of shit, but it seemed to be a whole other level of offensive when the kind of shit you were, was specified.

  “He’s as sharp as a beach ball, he is,”she replied to the whole room. I knew she was pissed because her Irish accent always seemed to get thicker when she was flustered.

  “Listen, woman, I don’t know why you’re so pissed off. I didn’t do this,” I snapped. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Jack grab Kathryn’s hand and pull her next him. Wonderful! Even Jack was preparing for Camille and I to battle.

  Camille just gaped at me like I hadn’t enough sense to buy a fucking bus token. “No, you didn’t, but it’s yer bloody sister, just where did she get the idea that we should be a couple?” she retorted. I tried to meet her eyes, but I kept getting distracted by her heaving chest. Truly, the way her breasts rose and fell with each aggravated breath made me want to take her upstairs and bury my head between them. Was it really just last night that I had held her in my arms while she went to sleep with a satisfied smile on her face?

  “Listen, I’m sorry. Rachel thinks everyone needs a fairytale and she likes to play matchmaker. After you visited the ranch with Jack and I came back in the house dripping wet, I guess she figured I had met my match.” I shrugged, not knowing what else to say.

  “Well, you should take the girl in hand then, Dalton, this is out of control,” she snapped and my head shot up at her words.

  “Listen, the day anyone tries to take my sister in hand is the day they lose that hand, male or female, you got me, princess? I don’t like what she did, but I’m not about to let anyone attack her!” I shouted. Hey, I may not be thrilled about what Rachel had done, and she and I would definitely be talking about it, but no one - and I mean no one - talks shit about my family, unless they are family, and until Reece slips that ring on Synclair’s finger, Rachel is off-limits to Camille’s rantings.

  For a moment, Camille’s eyes widened and I thought she was going to leap across the table and throttle me. Instead, she sighed and grabbed the marriage license, folded it up and shoved it in her back pocket.

  “Yer right, I don’t mean to come down on yer sister. I actually like the bird. She does have a strange addiction to Victoria’s Secret products, but I know she has a good heart.” I said nothing, and she continued, “I’m sure she thought she was doin’ you a favor, she just got confused thinking you wanted me for something other than friendship.”

  I noticed how her eye twitched when she said the word "friendship". I wasn’t sure what to make of it and, honestly, I was tired of trying to figure out Camille’s triggers. The woman was like a mine f
ield, every step could blow your foot off. Or blow your mind like she did last night, asshole!

  Inner voice was right, she had blown my mind and whatever was bothering her needed to be worked out. Trading insults wasn’t going to work, and lately that seemed to be our go-to method of dealing with misunderstandings between us.

  “I’m sorry, too; after my parents died. Rachel was so devastated that we have all kind of been a little protective over her. She was only fourteen and none of us knew much about raising a teenage girl. Shit, if Sara hadn’t been around, I don’t know what we would’ve done,” I told her, shaking my head.

  The anger drained from Camille’s face and she reached across the table and covered my hand with her own. I smiled and Jack pulled Kathryn from the room.

  “Did we just have a moment here?” I asked, grinning.

  Camille looked around and then smirked. “I believe we did, Hudson, we worked through an argument like a real couple,” she replied, not even realizing what she had said.

  I snatched my hand back as a tingle of apprehension ran down my spine. Warning bells went off in my head when she had said the word "couple", and I kept seeing the sadness in her eyes when she had used the word "friendship" earlier. Could Camille have feelings for me? Like deep feelings that lead to four letter words like "love"? No, she wouldn’t, she couldn’t, we had a deal and one orgasm, no matter how fucking epic, does not make a love story. I shook my head and stood up from the table so fast that my chair fell backwards with a loud thud. Friends, we were friends, and friend was definitely not a four letter word like love, because that led to other four letter words, like "baby".

  Camille must have realized the cause of my sudden jump from the table and, for a moment, she looked crestfallen, but she quickly covered it with a smile I know she didn’t feel.

  “Don’t be frettin’ things, Dalton, I didn’t mean we were like a romantic couple, just friends, good friends, that’s all. I haven’t forgotten,” she said as she came around the table to stand in front of me.