by Abby Knox
“I think I love you,” I say.
“Of course you do, dummy,” he says, ruffling my hair.
My skin tingles across my chest when he touches my hair like that. He’s done it a hundred times before, but this is the first time that I want him to do it again.
I’m so nervous I can’t even begin to think about eating that pizza. Then again, my stomach is howling with hunger.
I wince as I bite into the first piece, worried that it’s going to be extra garlic like always. To my curiosity and relief, no extra garlic hits me.
“What the heck is going on, Hudson? Usually, you show up to movie night in a hoodie and flip-flops. You’ve combed your hair, your shirt has a collar, you don’t smell like the marina, and there is no garlic on this pizza.”
He looks me deep in the eye and says, “I keep thinking that if I leave for the summer, how much I’m going to miss you. And it left a huge hole in my heart. Because you’re my best friend, and it would be a shame when I think it’s time to…”
I suck in a breath. “Time to do what?”
A stiff breeze rocks the boat—a jostling that’s far wilder than I would have expected on a vessel this size that’s tethered to the dock— and I fall forward right into his chest.
“Adalee,” he rasps, clutching my face in his hands.
“Hudson.”
And then his lips are on mine. Suddenly, nothing else matters, and everything is wonderful.
All day long I’ve been going back and forth about telling him how I feel. I’ve often fantasized about what it would be like to kiss him. I’ve wondered if he was a good kisser. I’d always assumed yes. But I had no idea.
He’s just, whoa. Hudson’s lips are solid and soft at the same time. There has been so much buildup to this moment all day, and yet it’s so simple. Simple as in, it makes perfect sense. Kissing him feels like we should have been doing this forever.
He pulls back from the kiss and looks me in the eyes.
“Whoa,” he says, his eyes ablaze with wonder.
“Yeah. Whoa,” I breathe.
He stammers, “We, we should probably talk about this. Have a conversation about what this means for our friendship.”
I nod. “Probably. And the fact that you’re leaving.”
He nods in response, but his brows come together in concern.
I thread my fingers through his and say, “But I don’t want to talk right now.”
He exhales a relieved laugh. “Thank god, I don’t want to talk either.”
“Kiss me again, Hudson.”
“Watch out, Frenchie, I’m going to kiss you plenty, and I’m not gonna stop. At all.”
“I don’t want you to stop, I—“
His mouth on mine stops me from saying anymore words.
Words? What are words?
Hudson has a mouth that can make a smart girl dumb.
I’ve moved past the reflection, the mind-blowing realization that my best friend is kissing me, to outright lust for him to keep going.
His mouth is both tender and affectionate but also pressing. I feel his tongue ease across the seam of my lips, sparking a full-body chemical reaction. The new sensation of his tongue causes my nipples to grow taut under the lace of my bra. The gentle, teasing swipe spikes the nudging feeling happening between my thighs. It’s a heat and a tug of need that wets my panties.
I open to his tongue, welcoming him to explore my mouth. He tastes as if he’s gone the extra mile with mouthwash and minty chewing gum in anticipation of this happening, and the thought of that is so sweet I could jump his bones right now.
Our tongues claim each other’s mouths with growing urgency. I need to deepen the kiss; this situation started out sweet, and now it’s serious. I want to touch him. Need to put my hands on all that tanned skin. And I need those capable, weather-worn hands on me. Everywhere.
Our fingers are still laced together, and I unlace them, resting my hand on his chest. Here, I can feel Hudson’s heart thudding against his ribcage; his heart races just like mine does at this moment.
His arm on the back of the sofa moves to my shoulders and pulls me in tighter to our energetic kissing while his other hand cups my face.
My hand on his chest moves across his pecs, rubbing his muscles that I know are tired after a long day at work. This elicits a groan from his mouth into mine. The noise is sexy and almost like a warning. I try to tease out another sexy noise by stroking the skin of his neck and sliding my fingers under his collar. But instead of a groan, he growls into my mouth, making me gasp, and amping up my need to feel and explore more of him. Take more of him. Let him take more of me.
With both hands working frantically through our urgent kissing, I unbutton the two top buttons of his shirt, smoothing my palms over his tight traps. I can’t help myself; when I feel how tight he is there, I massage.
He sighs into my mouth. “Frenchie. Always taking care of me. Damn, that feels good.”
I continue to massage his shoulders and look up at him, keeping my eyes trained on his while he sheds his shirt entirely until he’s down to a white tank undershirt.
I smile when I see the tank top. This is what I’m used to seeing from him. His tanned skin shining in the sun, his bare shoulders dotted in freckles.
“Wouldn’t be me if I didn’t,” I said.
He winks. “Tonight was supposed to be all about you.”
I lean forward and trace my tongue across his top lip and then his bottom, running my hands over his chest.
“It still is, I’m having a blast.”
My thumbs tease out his nipples, which provokes a more savage growl from Hudson’s throat.
He leans away just enough to remove the tank top. That sight of him—his arms in the air, exposing every ridge of masculine arms, revealing his hard chest and manly stomach, makes me want to shuck all of my clothes immediately. I know what this man looks like without a shirt. We’ve spent enough time together at the beach. But in this context, the look of his rugged planes and ridges does all sorts of new things to my body.
My clothes feel so tight, so in the way, it’s to the point of frustration, and I lean away to rid myself of my shirt. Yes, even my bra. This is it. This is the first time my best friend has seen my bare breasts, and it’s nerve-wracking and exciting all at once. His eyelids hood at the sight of my nakedness from the waist up; he appears to be at a loss for words. All I know for sure is I need this. I need his skin on my skin.
Hudson reaches out to me across the sofa. I wait, letting myself feel the thrill in the moment of knowing this man wants me in the same way I want him.
He comes at me with the force of a cheetah, taut and ready, on the verge of snarling.
I want to kiss all that skin, grab it, wrap myself around him and ride him through the sofa.
Hudson hovers over me, caging me in with his firm, tanned arms, his floppy hair framing his face above me.
His chain necklace hangs down and swings in the air above me. I hook my finger in it and draw him in for a kiss.
He hesitates. “Wait a second. Before we go any further. Tell me, are you my girl, Frenchie?”
“Haven’t I always been?” I say, my voice trembling. “Through everything, you’re the only one who’s always been there for me. I think I always knew on some level.”
A wicked smile stretches across his face. “Right answer,” he says, and takes my mouth once again.
The pressure of all that body is almost too much for me to handle, but at the same time, I want more.
I wrap my legs around his waist and draw him closer as we kiss.
I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be held down and kissed by this man—this sweet, strong, quiet man who is my best friend. Objectively, not necessarily that I’ve wanted him to do it.
And it’s better than I imagined. Hudson kisses a blazing path down the sensitive cords of my neck, traveling down my sternum. Never one to waste time when he’s hungry, my hard-working man takes possession
of my breasts with his hands and his mouth. I can tell he’s being careful, but even so, his fingers and mouth are rough, in the most delightful, sinful way. Hudson has a way of making me feel so treasured I can barely contain my joy. And at that moment, with his lips and tongue worshiping my breasts, his hands exploring every curve, I don’t care if this ruins our friendship. This was bound to happen, and we’ll deal with the aftermath when the time comes.
“Frenchie,” he mumbles after adoring one nipple and moving on to the other one.
“Hudson,” I whisper.
All the sensations are blowing my mind. I had always thought making out with my best friend would result in a lot of self-conscious giggling and clumsiness. We’ve seen each other at our most sloppy, seen each other through a host of embarrassing situations, and yet maybe that’s what makes this so easy. And that much hotter.
He reaches down in between us and flicks open the button of my jeans with one move, then reaches in to take what’s his. What’s always been his. My panties give way to his big, calloused hand, the skin at the juncture of my thighs thrilling at the contact. By the time he finds my cleft, I’m ready to peel my jeans off completely. But before I do, his one thick finger nudges my clit.
My eyes go wide, and I gasp at the electricity this sets off through my body.
“Hudson!” I squeak.
“Okay?”
I nod my head.
Acknowledging my consent, he growls, “Get rid of these jeans. Now.”
I take zero seconds to do as he tells me, and my jeans and panties go flying across the room. We share a brief laugh when my clothes hit the wall, but then another large wave rocks the yacht, and Hudson and I tumble off the sofa.
Immediately he checks me over. “Are you hurt? Seasick?”
I shake my head and pull him on top of me on the floor of the cabin. This is how much I trust the man; I’m gonna let him rock my world while we’re on a boat, knowing he would do anything to make sure I’m comfortable and cared for.
It’s not the first time for either of us, but it feels like it. This big, rugged man is going to tell me what to do and toss me around like a rag doll on this boat, and I am one hundred percent here for it.
I tug him back to me for a kiss—I can’t get enough of his lips, now that I have them— as Hudson continues his explorations down below. Slicking his fingers through my wet folds, he inches fingers into my slick heat. I moan into his mouth, egging him on. My body urges him to go deeper, and once again, he wastes no time. His thick digits stroke my walls, stretching me out, simultaneously drawing soft, lusty moans from my throat.
I hardly recognize myself in the noises he’s provoking out of me.
“Take it out, Frenchie,” he rumbles against my neck. “Take my fucking cock out. I want you to do it; I want to feel your hands around it before I wrap it up.”
I whimper like a spoiled brat when he stops fingering me so I can reach down low and help him shove down his pants and boxer briefs.
I look down and see the hard rod as it pops free and lands in my grip. Whoa. For a second, I come back to reality. There it is. There’s Hudson’s cock. Judging from what I knew from the outline in his sweatpants, I knew what the size would be.
I just didn’t expect it to be so…pleasant to look at? And so warm and solid and perfect in my hands. But of course, it is. It’s Hudson’s. I objectively love everything about him.
I stroke it up and down, noticing it jerk in response. I lift my eyes to watch his teeth grit, his jaw ripple. “Fuck, Frenchie.”
With a grunt of brief frustration, he pulls back from me. I know the feeling. I don’t want to stop the contact, even when necessary for practical things like removing the last layers of clothing or pausing for protection.
Hudson kicks off his bottoms completely and pauses to wrap himself in the condom in his pocket. He catches me smirking at it.
“You knew you were gonna get lucky tonight, didn’t you?” I ask.
He looks up and gives me another wicked grin, then surprises me. The next thing I know he’s sweeping me up onto his lap, his fingers finding my needy pussy again as my legs straddle him. The hardwood of the cabin’s floor rolls with another wave hitting the dock, and I work to steady my knees as I rise up to let Hudson adore my breasts. He runs his tongue over my pebbled nipple then allows it to pop out of his mouth. He rasps, “Not going to lie, I’ve wondered what they looked like underneath those cute-ass midriff shirts you wear. I knew you were beautiful. I knew, I always knew.”
“Hudson, I need you,” I rasp.
He smiles and swirls his fingers around inside my pussy lips. “Say it again and show me.”
I squeak at the wildness he’s building inside me with his movements. “I fucking need you.”
His eyes glaze over in his desire. “I believe you,” he says, popping his soaked fingers into his mouth and rolling his eyes back in his head. “I feel it, I can taste you, smell you. I’m gonna brand myself with your juice.”
To my shock, he swipes his wet hand across his chest.
I literally can’t take another second of this foreplay. And I can’t believe how fast we’re going. Is this right? Is this safe? It feels all kinds of right. But safe? I don’t know. Right now, I don’t care. I just want to give him what’s his and take what’s mine.
Hovering over the tip, my pussy gentles a kiss against Hudson’s cock. Our eyes stay locked throughout this intimate moment, his expression fervid and primal with need. That unfamiliar look on my best friend’s face alone can make me shudder with awe.
The next moment, there’s no more hesitation. I am so ready. Slick with need, I stuff that man inside me all the way to the hilt.
We cry out together, “Fuck!” and then laugh. “Jinx, buy me a Coke,” I say.
“Baby doll, I’m gonna buy you the fucking moon if you want it.”
I begin a slow grind, building my ache, gripping his cock as I slide up and down. “All I want is you.”
“You have me. And I have you, Frenchie. Let me love you. Will you let me love you forever?”
Tears of lust and emotion sting my eyes. “It’s always only been you, Hudson. I couldn’t give my heart to anyone else.”
He reaches down between us and strums my clit with his thumb. “Look at us, look at that,” he says.
For a moment, the two of us stare at the place where our bodies join together, noticing the wet slide, noticing how perfect we fit together.
The sight of it makes me gush even more, and the thrusting and grinding ramps up.
Hudson grips my hips and guides my speed on his cock, and I’m so hungry for it, so turned on that my first orgasm blasts through me like a tornado.
“I’m sorry,” I say, though I know I shouldn’t. He’s always telling me to stop apologizing. “I wanted to come at the same time.”
Hudson looks up at me and kisses each of my breasts while keeping his eyes locked on mine. “Don’t worry. You will.”
With that, he changes the angle just right and pumps, somehow hitting me in that particular spot that I never believed existed. Not at least until now.
“God, Hudson,” I moan.
“That’s my girl. That’s my Frenchie.”
We crash our mouths together once again, and I moan into his with every upward thrust that hits my G-spot.
I’m so out of breath and so in need of closer contact, I throw myself onto his shoulder, fully expecting to drool all over it. Honestly, I don’t care if I do. How many times has he seen me drool over pizza?
The thought of that makes me laugh, and the release of it sends me rocketing toward another intense orgasm.
I clasp my arms around Hudson’s shoulders and cry out. As I do, he roars my name. We’re tightly wrapped together as our release barrels through both of us.
“I love you, Frenchie.”
“I love you so much, Hudson.”
Chapter 6
Hudson
I don’t want to be “that guy,” but I’m t
otally going to be “that guy” and just say it.
“If the ship wasn’t properly christened before, we surely christened it tonight, Frenchie.” I dapple kisses over her shoulder, and she jerks at the ticklish sensation.
To get more comfortable, we’ve switched locations to the guest bedroom of this three-bedroom boat.
“Oh brother,” she says. “How did I know you were going to say that?”
“Because we are like a hive mind,” I say.
She turns around to face me, and I bring Frenchie’s soft curves closer to me, reveling in the sensation of her breasts against my chest. My Frenchie.
“I’m happy,” she whispers, her nose nuzzling the scruff on my chin.
“Me too,” I say.
“I should go home and shower. Will you come with me?”
I’m covered in her scent from all the ways we’ve violated each other’s bodies tonight. And it’s giving me life. “Me? I’m never bathing again.”
“Gross,” she says, smirking.
“Hardly,” I reply, suddenly flipping her on her tummy and covering her with my entire body. She squeals and laughs. “What are you doing?”
“I’m rolling around in Frenchie. Like a naughty dog. Gonna get you all over me.”
I interrupt her laughter by using my thigh to spread her legs as I come to my knees. Seeing her spread open from this position hardens my cock all over again. I palm her soft, curvy cheeks, massaging and opening her split.
She hums a muffled sigh into the pillow.
“You wore me out, but I like it,” she says, turning her head to the side.
I take advantage of the fact that her body relaxes under my touch and stroke her up and down, everywhere. Back, shoulders, arms, the backs of her thighs. When my hands reach her upper thighs, she looks back at me. “Keep going, and you’re gonna turn me on all over again.”
I crawl up the mattress and cage her in with my arms, nuzzling her spine with my tongue, nudging the split of her tush with my cock.
“That’s the best news I’ve heard all minute,” I rasp, teasing that gorgeous cleft.
