by Abby Brooks
I’m the ants.
Great. So now I’m consoling myself by imagining that I’m an army of insects. Just what every girl wants.
The truth of it is that I’m confused. I keep telling myself that there will be time to play later, once I’ve made enough money to pay back all my loans. But won’t I be too old to play by then? And like my mom is so quick to point out, I’m not getting any younger. What kind of man is going to want to play with me once the bloom is off the rose as she so maddeningly puts it? Surely not a man like Hudson Knox.
See?
This is why I’ve been afraid to go home. I stop working for one minute and BOOM. All I can think about is that damn football player.
I push all Hudson oriented thoughts out of my head and slip on my coat. There is a long soak in the tub, a bottle of wine, and a bed full of comfortable pillows with my name on it. That is all I need to worry about for the next several hours.
“Dr. London?” Judy, the receptionist, stands up as I walk past her desk. “A delivery came for you. I was just going to page you but someone said you already left.”
“Just on my way now. Moving a little slow.” I try to smile but I think it’s more of a grimace, showing way too many teeth with crazed exhaustion glimmering in my eyes. I’m way too tired to be interacting with actual people right now.
The receptionist pulls a massive bouquet of red roses out from under the counter. “You’ve made quite the impression on someone,” she says as she slides it across to me.
There’s a card and I consider opening it at home because I really don’t want Judy to know anything personal about me. It’s best if she just thinks of me as Dr. London and that’s it. But, I’m too tired and too curious to be strong. I tear open the envelope and pull out a card, jumping a little as two pieces of paper fall out and flutter to land by my feet.
I bend to pick them up off the floor as I read:
Maya-
I got you two tickets to Sunday’s game. Come alone, or bring a friend. Either way, I hope you’ll meet me at my apartment afterwards. Although, I totally expect you to be alone when you get here. And preferably without panties.
Hudson
Judy’s grinning at me and I realize that’s because I’m smiling like I just found out I’m actually the daughter of a billionaire who’s just died and left me his entire fortune.
“Do you have an admirer?” she squawks, wobbling around the desk to get a peek at the card.
I press the thing to my chest. “No. I mean, yes?” I shake my head. I have a guy who wants to have more meaningless sex with me is what I have. How do I tell her that?
I don’t. That’s how.
Ignoring Judy’s wounded expression, I gather up the flowers, struggling to get my arms around them. There’s got to be at least three dozen roses crammed into this vase. It’s hard to see around them as I walk through the parking lot and I actually buckle it into the front seat of my car so it doesn’t spill over.
Will I go to the game? And more importantly, will I show up at his apartment afterwards? I have no idea. I’ve got an epic battle of what I think is the right answer pitted against what I think sounds like fun going on in my head and I’m way too fucking tired right now to referee.
I finish the drive home in a car that smells like roses, a smile plastered on my face. When I get inside, I drop my purse on the floor, deposit the flowers on the table, and fall into bed, forsaking the wine and the bath and going straight for the sleep.
I think the fact that I even tried to pretend I might not go see Hudson on Sunday shows just how exhausted I was yesterday. The moment I wake from my sixteen-hour nap, I race into the living room to make sure I wasn’t dreaming and stop in my tracks, mouth open. Not only did I not make up the roses in some sort of overworked fever dream, but they bloomed while I slept and are abso-freaking-lutely gorgeous. Rich and lush. Their satiny petals the deepest possible shade of red.
I reread the card and clutch it to my chest. There’s not one mention of one feeling in their anywhere. Hudson made it pretty clear that he wants me to meet him at his apartment for sex and that’s it. And you know what? Somehow, that’s everything I could ever want right now. I have no time for a relationship. No desire to deal with feelings and emotions. I can barely manage myself right now. What would happen if I tried to add another person to the mix?
Fire and brimstone, that’s what. My whole world would crumble to pieces. There’s no doubt in my mind.
But meaningless sex? Especially meaningless sex with Hudson Knox? Hell-fucking-yes I’ll add that to my schedule. A no strings attached way to step out of my head and get into my body? I can’t see one thing wrong with that.
The rest of the week passes in a blur of work and sleep and sleep and work. Having Hudson to look forward to makes it easier to both push myself and remember to take care of myself. I was pretty drunk at the coffee shop. I don’t remember much of what we talked about, only that I got a sense that I liked the guy. But that’s the thing. I have zero desire to show up at his apartment and talk. I fully intend to show up, get fucked, and go home.
Sunday arrives and wouldn’t you know, it’s one of those wonderful fall days where the sun is warm and the air is crisp and somehow everything looks like it’s had gold dust thrown on it. I couldn’t think of a better day to spend hours sitting in the stands only to go meet a professional athlete for some professional grade sex. I’ve never been to a football game before, so I have zero idea about what to expect. Even though Hudson gave me a spare ticket and gave me the all clear on inviting a friend, I never even entertained the thought of bringing someone else.
For one, I’m kind of a loner. For two, the person I’d invite is Chelsea. And for three, no thank you. The last thing I need is to have her questioning what’s going on between Hudson and me. If she asks, I’ll end up answering and she’s not going to like what she hears. Sure, she was all for the meaningless sex when it was a one-time deal. I can’t imagine that she’d be okay with it if she found out I’m planning on being a repeat customer.
By the time I arrive at Paul Brown Stadium, I’m pretty excited. I never thought I’d be excited to see a football game. Ever. But I actually am. I wander through the crowds of people decked out in their orange and black and smile. It feels more like a party than a sporting event and it’s way more fun than being at the hospital. I buy myself a beer and settle in to watch the game.
My seat is fantastic. I’m so close to the field I can see everything. It doesn’t take me long to find Hudson. If I thought he was sexy in a white button-up and a pair of slacks, he’s sex on fire in his uniform. He struts around the field, eyeing his opponents. He’s a gladiator. A warrior. He’s strong and aggressive and he cuts down every player in his way. I can’t take my eyes off him and I definitely can’t wait to get back to his apartment and get my hands on him. Or rather, get his hands on me.
I want him to look at me like that. I want him be that aggressive. I want to know what it’s like to be with a man who’s capable of taking down other men. I want to feel his strength and his power and know that I’m helpless against it.
I’d be lying if I didn’t spend the whole game turned on as all hell.
The game is a close one and I scream and shout with the rest of the crowd, cheering when things go well and booing when they don’t. I spend most of the game confused by what’s happening, but you don’t have to know anything about the rules to know that when our team stops the other team, that’s a good thing. And that when our team gets a touchdown, that’s a really good thing.
And when our team wins? That’s a fan-fucking-tastic thing. I’m actually happy as I head to the car. Like, I feel good on the inside. The fact that this is kind of a strange feeling for me would be depressing if I wasn’t feeling this good. I might as well be impenetrable.
Well.
That’s not true at all.
I’m totally penetrable. Just ask Hudson.
Chapter Eight
I want to ta
ke my time getting to Hudson’s apartment. I’m sure he’s got a ton of things to do in the locker room after a game. I assume there’s press and a big speech from the coach. Maybe a lot of snapping the other players on the ass with towels and manly grunting. A shower…
I pause at that thought because there’s not much else in this world yummier than the image of Hudson all soaped up and wet, running his hands over that magnificent body. Tilting his head back to let the water hit his face…
Damn.
Now my mind-Hudson isn’t the only one who’s wet.
On a whim, I stop at a deli and pick up some food. I mean, the guy just ran up and down a field for the last several hours, taking some big hits and delivering quite a few of his own. He’s got to be hungry. I don’t have one single clue what the guy likes to eat, so I choose some pretty standard turkey sandwiches on ciabatta rolls and grab a handful of condiments that he can add if he wants to. I also grab a couple apples, a few bags of chips, and a tub of coleslaw because I love coleslaw with a passion. If he likes it, great. If not? Oh well. It’s the thought that counts, right? Besides, everything else was generic enough he shouldn’t have much a problem finding something to eat.
After giving Hudson more than enough time to get home, I pack myself up into the beat up Honda Civic I bought when I graduated high school. It was old then, and it’s even older now. I just need her to last through my residency. Maybe I’ll be able to think about a new car then.
There’s a pep to my step as I walk up to Hudson’s building that even worrying about my poor old car can’t obliterate. As I wait for the elevator, I remember the last time I was here. Hudson’s hands on my body. My fingers stroking his hard cock through his pants. My wrists pinned above my head while Hudson’s lips and teeth graze my neck and jaw.
I bite my lip and squeeze my legs together. Maybe he won’t need to eat right away after all. He’s a strong guy. He can handle just a little more physical activity first. Right?
I juggle the bags as the elevator door slides open and walk down the hallway to his door. I knock twice and wait. And then wait. And then wait a little bit more.
Just as I’m thinking I got here too early, the door swings open, revealing Hudson in nothing but a pair of low slung athletic pants. My jaw drops at the sight of him. That broad chest. The strong arms. That tight tummy with the hot V at his hips drawing my eyes down to his dick. And yes, I can see the outline of it through the fabric of his pants. He’s even got bare feet. What is it about seeing a man’s naked feet?
“Well, hello,” he says, smiling those dimples into existence.
“Hey yourself.” I hold up the bags from the deli. “I brought food in case you’re hungry.”
Hudson swings the door all the way open and pulls me inside, pressing a kiss to my lips. I stiffen for a second, surprised by the intimacy, then melt into him. My lips part and his tongue darts between them. I press my body to his, squashing the plastic bags between us.
“That was very thoughtful,” he says when he finally lets me go.
I blink up at him, still feeling heady from that kiss. “You’re the one who kissed me, silly.”
“I’m talking about the food. Although the kiss was nice and we should definitely do it again before the night is over.” He gestures towards the kitchen where he’s got an array of Styrofoam containers open on the counter. “I ordered some food, too.”
He shrugs and I get to watch the fabulousness that is Hudson Knox’s muscles twitching and jumping underneath his skin.
“This is actually the first time I’ve gotten to see your apartment,” I say, aware that I’m still standing in the doorway and unsure of what to do with myself. “I was preoccupied with other things last time I was here.”
“I get it. I’m pretty damn preoccupying.” Hudson takes the bags and peeks inside as he limps over to the kitchen. “Is this Joe’s Deli in Findlay Market?” He starts pulling containers out of the bag. “Tell me you got their coleslaw.”
“How could I not get the coleslaw?”
It’s so easy being with Hudson, I forget that we’re near strangers. That I don’t know anything about him other than the size of his dick. In my real life, this should be one hell of an awkward encounter. But here? With him? In this weird fantasy life where I’m cool having casual sex with a professional athlete? It’s actually a lot of fun.
“I didn’t know what you’d like,” he says, pulling off the lid to the Joe’s coleslaw. “So I just got all the things I like and figured you were shit out of luck if you’re picky.” He grins at me.
“That’s funny. I didn’t know what you’d like, so I just got some generic sandwiches and a couple things I can’t imagine anyone not liking”
“That’s the difference between you and me.” Hudson takes a bite and closes his eyes appreciatively. “I live my life for me and you live it for other people.”
“There’s no way you can know that about me.” I examine the food he’s got out on the counter and find a wide array of choices from a wide array of restaurants. “And there’s no way you had time to pick all these things up after the game.”
“I’ve got people who are more than willing to do these things for me, doll face. That’s the beauty of being me.”
Hudson pulls down a plate for me and I pile a strange selection of what looks like General Tso’s, a section of the sandwich from Joe’s, and some breadsticks from an Italian restaurant I don’t recognize. I study his apartment as I eat, trying to get a feel for the man who is Hudson Knox through the stylish furniture and fully stocked book shelf.
“You’re a reader?”
“Don’t sound so surprised.” Hudson leans on the counter and fills his plate with mounds of food. I didn’t think he could get any sexier, but thinking of this gladiator of a man curled up on his couch with a book just about does me in.
“Let me guess,” I say, squinting at the books, trying to read the titles. “Most of them are football books.”
“Nope. I’ve got a little of everything up there. The complete works of Shakespeare. Some Stephen King. Lord of the Rings.” Hudson studies the array of food on the counter, fork poised to stab whatever catches his interest. “But as much as I love fiction, I really enjoy reading about psychology and ways to improve myself.”
“So, like self-help.” I giggle, because it’s hella funny thinking about this man needing any kind of help whatsoever.
“Laugh if you want, but while you get mired in destructive habits, I’m going to keep learning to harness the power of positivity and how to make powerful change in my life.”
“I’m twenty-eight years old and am almost done with my residency in pediatric surgery. I wouldn’t exactly call that mired.”
Hudson lifts his eyebrows and points his finger at me. “Ahh. But are you happy?”
“I’m having a great day thank you very much and I am very happy.”
“All I know is that the woman I spoke to at the coffee shop outside of Aura didn’t sound like she was very happy. In fact, I’m pretty sure she told me she became a surgeon to please her parents. Again, not exactly the path to bliss.” Hudson shoves a bite into his mouth and grins around his food as he chews. He looks positively adorable which helps me to squash the urge to hit him.
He thinks he’s just joking around, but he’s actually stepping really hard on some painful truths. I poke around my plate with my fork and try to think of a way to change the topic to something more meaningless.
“Do you know that was my first football game ever?” I ask.
“No way.”
“Totally. I have no idea what happened other than you look damn sexy in your uniform and lots of people cheered and the Bengals won.”
“It was a good game.” Hudson smiles and puts his plate down before reaching for mine. “You done?”
I nod and hand it over, appreciating the strong lines of his tattoos as he puts the dishes in the sink. He takes my hand and leads me into the living room.
“Are yo
u limping?” I ask.
Hudson drops onto his sofa with a sigh and pulls me down into his lap. He presses his lips to mine and runs his hands up into my hair, cradling my head. I’m overwhelmed by him. All that skin for my fingers to explore. So soft and warm, covering his sinewy muscles. His rough hands, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. Suddenly, I’m not thinking about football or dinner. I’m not thinking about how happy I am. I’m not wondering about books on bookshelves or what Hudson’s choice in sofas says about him.
I’m thinking about the way his cock feels inside me, stretching me to my absolute limits. I’m thinking about screaming in ecstasy while I am nothing but feeling, grounded in this moment, in my body by the waves of pleasure brought on by this man as he thrusts inside me, our sweat and breath mingling.
Planting my hands on his shoulders, I reposition myself so I’m straddling him without breaking our kiss. My hands go to the waistband of his pants, pulling it down so I can reach inside. I am a junky, desperate for the one thing that will make me feel better.
“Maya,” he says against my lips. “Slow down. Let me enjoy you.”
I shake my head and wrap my fingers around his dick. “I can’t. I need this.”
He leans his head back on the cushion while I stroke his shaft. “I want this, too. I’ve been thinking about you since the last time you were here.” His eyes roll closed and he groans and I smile to know that I am the source of so much pleasure.
“Oh yeah? Just what were you thinking about?” His cock jumps in my hand. It’s hard and just as big as I remembered. I grind my hips into him, so turned on I can’t sit still.
Hudson opens his eyes and there he is. The gladiator I saw on the field. He’s fierce and ferocious and in charge. He grasps my wrists and pulls my hands back until he’s got my arms wrapped behind my back.
“I was thinking that the last time was all about you being in control. It’s my turn, doll face.” He kisses me again, rough and possessive, while switching his grip on my wrists so he has them both in one hand. The other swoops up my rib cage and cups my breast, squeezing and massaging while he bites my bottom lip.
