Love Is Everything (Maya & Hudson)

by Abby Brooks

  “You have the most perfect tits,” he says as I drop my bra to the floor. “They are the things dreams are made of.”

  I run my hands up my body, eyes burning into his. He thinks he’s in control? He’s got a lot to learn about Maya London. I cup my breasts and squeeze. Pinch my taut nipples between my fingers and twist. “They’re lonely,” I say.

  Hudson clicks his tongue at me. “I’m not that easy, Maya. It’s going to take more than that to get me to lose control with you again. We’re going slow tonight, doll face, whether you like it or not.”

  His words are gasoline on the fire of my lust. “But I want you.” I make a pouty face and drop a hand between my legs. “I’m so wet for you, Hudson. Don’t you want to feel how wet I am?”

  His eyes go dark and he launches himself at me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and lowering me down onto the couch. He dips a finger inside me, first one, then two, hooking them so he grazes that spot that makes me feel like I’m just going to explode. I moan, triumphant in my success.

  And then he pulls his hand away and my eyes shoot open in time to see those dimples appear as he grins at me. His fingers are at my lips and I open my mouth.

  “Suck,” he says and I do, tasting myself.

  He drags his fingers out of my mouth, pressing on my bottom lip before he lowers his mouth to my breasts, licking and sucking and biting while his hand makes its way back between my legs. His touch is sublime. His finger on my clit edging me closer to oblivion while the little flickers of pain from his teeth at my nipple keep me grounded in my body. I can’t think. I can only feel. I can only want.

  And what I feel is him.

  What I want is him.

  And like that, I fall. My orgasm crashing around me, carrying me out of the life where I am Maya the surgeon and into the life where I am Maya the woman. I cry out, moan as my muscles clench and flutter.

  “That feels so good.”

  “Oh, doll face,” says Hudson, pulling his hand away from my pussy and licking it clean. “We haven’t even gotten started yet.”

  Chapter Nine

  Maya and I fall into the most perfect pattern of fucking on the weekends she’s not at the hospital. Or it would be perfect if she wasn’t the only thing on my mind all day, every day. Even that’s not exactly a bad thing, except for the fact that she’s completely and utterly inaccessible unless she’s actually in my bed.

  And when she’s in my bed? Well, she’s sure as hell accessible then. I haven’t found one thing that she wasn’t willing to try, one moment when I felt like she wasn’t completely and utterly there with me.

  I just wish she was here with me more often. I like her. She makes me laugh. She takes my shit and hands it right back to me. And for as much as I feel like I’m getting to know her, I feel like there are all these parts of her that are still buried. Like there’s something big and bruised inside of her that she’s trying to ignore.

  Or worse, trying to soothe with lots and lots of mind-blowing sex with me. Not that there’s anything wrong with the sex. It’s just that at this point I’m starting to think I wouldn’t mind getting a little more from her. But I don’t push her. I’ll be here when she’s ready. And in the meantime, I’ll be satisfied giving her toe-curling orgasms when she needs them and knowing that she’s more than fine with me coming on those perfect tits.

  There’s a knock at the door—Maya—and I jump over the back of the couch and skid to a halt before throwing open the door and inviting her in.

  “I brought wine,” she says, brandishing a bottle and a smile.

  “Red or white?”

  “Red of course.” She fishes through my drawers looking for a corkscrew.

  “I won’t drink that shit,” I say, pretending to be disgusted.

  “Oh come off it, Knox.” Maya shakes her head and pulls open another drawer. “You told me just last week that you loved a good Shiraz.”

  “Yeah, but that was last week. I’ve changed since then.”

  Maya rolls her eyes. “Ohhh. I guess that means I’m just behind the times, like always.” She shuts the drawer and surveys the kitchen, hands on her hips.

  “Obviously.”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t have a corkscrew.”

  She’s so adorable standing there like that, dark hair piled on her head, hands on her hips, head cocked to the side.

  “I don’t have a corkscrew,” I say just because she told me not to. I can’t help myself.

  “You’re so full of shit.” She laughs and spins in place, looking for another drawer to dig through. I love how comfortable she is in my apartment.

  “Did you look in the place where I keep the corkscrew?”

  She bursts out laughing, those quick eyes flashing. “Do you see a corkscrew in my hand? If I’d looked in the corkscrew place, I’d have found the corkscrew and the damn thing would be busy opening this bottle.”

  She brandishes the wine again and I get a look at the label. She just happened to pick my favorite. Either she saw that bottle on one of the many nights she’s been here, or it’s yet another instance where we seem to love the same things for the same reason.

  I take the bottle out of her hand and put it on the counter before pulling her into my arms and dropping a kiss onto the top of her head, breathing in the sweet scent of her coconut shampoo.

  “Go have a seat in the living room,” I tell her. “I’ll pour us some wine.” She smiles up at me while her hands slide down over my abs and past my belt.

  She squeezes my dick and bites her lip. “Don’t make me wait too long. The week’s been long enough already.”

  Fuckin’ hell. That girl is so hot.

  I pull the corkscrew out of the first drawer she pulled open and pour two very healthy glasses of wine. I fully intend to get her too drunk to drive home tonight. I will not let her get a cab. She will stay here so I can have her in my bed for a whole night and then have my way with her again in the morning.

  I saunter into the living room with a grin and find her perched on the edge of the couch with her phone in her hands.

  “I have to go,” she says, this awful dark cloud coming down over her face. “There’s an emergency at the hospital. They need me in surgery, like, five minutes ago.” Her eyes, usually so smooth and flashing with intelligence, go tight and hard. She reminds me of a wounded animal trapped in a cage.

  She stands. Plucks her coat off the back of the sofa and struggles with it while tapping out a frantic message on her phone. I put the glasses down on the coffee table and help her into her coat. “No worries,” I say even though I’m more than a little disappointed. “Go. Be a superhero. Save a life.”

  Maya blinks up at me, tension twisting her pretty features. “God, I hope I’m not too late.”

  And with that, she’s out the door.

  Chapter Ten

  Despair. It clings to me and holds me in place. The cheap leather of the couch in the break room bending and groaning beneath my weight. Crinkling as I shift in my seat. I stare at my hands and time passes. I forget how long I’ve been here.

  Not long enough for the tears to stop burning my eyes.

  Not long enough for the guilt to stop twisting in my stomach.

  Not long enough for the sounds of trauma and grief to stop echoing in my ears.

  The screech of the machines, blaring their alarms as the boy’s heart fails. The shriek of the boy’s mother as she collapses in front me. Her husband too shocked to catch her before she hits the floor.

  Why?! Her face distorted by agony. Why didn’t you save my boy?!

  And so I sit here—hours that could be minutes or days pass me by—and ask the same question. Why couldn’t I save him?

  Logic answers. He was dead before he got here. His injuries too severe for anyone to save him. His little body crushed by the car that hit him, no longer a decent home for his spirit.

  But still, the mother’s cries stab me in the heart and twist knives in my belly and I can’t be here anymore
.

  Not here with the hospital smells and the hospital sounds and the doctors and nurses who stop by to drop a comforting hand on my shoulder. Who tell me I did everything I could do. That I should go home and take a bath. Get some food in my belly and fall asleep.

  How can I sleep knowing that there’s a mother and father lying awake in an agony I will never understand? Their hearts an open wound. Their souls bleeding and sore. All because I failed them today. That despite me doing everything I knew to do, I wasn’t good enough to save their son.

  I just can’t be here. And I can’t be home. I can’t be anywhere because the guilt will follow me wherever I go.

  I grab my coat and race out of the hospital without even stopping to slip it on. My hands fumble with my car keys as I fight them into the ignition, either too numbed by grief or cold to work properly, I can’t be sure. I don’t know where I’m going until I get there and then I realize I’d known all along.

  I pull into the now familiar parking lot and shuffle into the building. Wait for the elevator. A ghost. A zombie. My body moving but my heart and soul are still with the little boy on the operating table.

  He had blonde hair.

  And I don’t even know his name.

  But he will live with me until I die. Firmly lodged in whatever it is that makes me who I am.

  It’s not until I knock on Hudson’s door for the third time do I realize that I have no idea what time it is. I’m fishing for my phone in my purse when I hear him fumbling with the lock on the other side of the door.

  “Maya?” His hair stands up on end, ruffled by sleep, and wrinkled indentations from his pillow are pressed into his cheek.

  “Shit,” I say. “I’m sorry.” It’s the first time I’ve used my voice in hours and I’m stunned by how foreign it sounds. Heavy. Hard. And then I step into him, pressing my forehead to his sleep warmed chest and I cry.

  He wraps his arms around me while I sob in his doorway. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t move. He rubs his hands over my arms and back while I dissolve into him, each of my tears an apology to a little boy who will never get to grow into a man.

  “Where’s your coat, Maya?” asks Hudson, his voice pinched with worry as he rubs my chilled body. It’s only then that I realize I never put the thing on. He pulls me into his apartment, locks the door behind us, and leads me to the couch where he lets me curl up into him.

  “What happened, doll face?”

  I shake my head, burrowing deeper into him. Using his strength to hide from the world.

  “Please. Just tell me something. Are you okay?” His voice is sharp. Tight. The edge of rising panic darkening his typical warmth.

  I sit up and look at him, swiping at my tear stained face. “No. I mean yes. I’m not hurt. But I messed up so badly.” My face starts to crumble as another bout of tears wages a war with the small measure of peace I’d found by being near him.

  Hudson pulls me back into him and runs a hand through my hair, shushing me while I cry until there’s nothing more to give.

  Slowly, I tell him about a little boy who was hit by a car that swerved off the road and into his front yard. A little boy who needed me. A little boy I failed. I tell him about a mother on her knees and a father too devastated to care.

  “And it’s all my fault.” The words are strangled. Grief a heavy weight on my chest.

  “No. It’s not.” Hudson searches my eyes.

  “I was the one with the skills to save him.”

  “And I’m sure you did everything you could. Sometimes everything isn’t enough. Maya…” He takes my face in his hands. “If you couldn’t save him, no one could.”

  I shake my head. Out of words. He kisses my forehead. The tip of my nose. Slides my shoes off my feet and covers me with a blanket while he disappears into the kitchen to make me some tea.

  Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders, I wander into the bathroom to wash my face and hate what I see in the mirror. I hate my red rimmed eyes. I hate my blotchy cheeks. I hate my swollen lips. I hate the thoughts in my head and the cold in my heart. I hate my churning stomach and my shaking hands.

  I need out. I need release. I need a reason to stop thinking and feeling so I can just exist. I need out of my head, out of my heart, out of my soul so that I can just be here, in my body.

  A respite from the pain.

  The grief.

  The blame.

  I need Hudson. I need his cock inside me, shattering me, obliterating everything but the way he feels. I wash my face and blow my nose. Rake my fingers through my hair and head back out to the living room with purpose.

  He’s waiting for me, tea in hand, a smile on his face. Kindness in his eyes. Worry tightening his brow.

  I see compassion. I see concern. I see a man who wants to make a woman feel better. I can’t see those things right now. More emotion and confusion piled on an already over-brimming heart.

  So I look at his body. The tattoos I once found dangerous and tantalizing. The hard muscles that feel so foreign under my hands. The broad shoulders. The powerful thighs hiding under those pants, flexing and straining as he thrusts his cock into my waiting pussy.

  His mouth, so full. Trailing biting kisses over my body. Sucking and licking my clit while I writhe under him.

  These are the things I need right now. Not his heart. Not his compassion. I need his body to remind me that I’m human.

  I take the tea from him and set it on the table. My eyes never leave him and I can feel the lust burning there. My breath quickens, speeding through my parted lips.

  I need pleasure and pain, sensation stacked on sensation.

  He sees the way I look at him and his eyes darken. My lust igniting his. He seizes me, crushing his lips to mine. I rake my fingernails down his back, digging them in hard, hurting on purpose.

  “I need you to fuck me, Hudson. I need it hard. And I need it now.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Maya is frenzied. Ripping clothes off. Clawing at my skin. Her eyes are dark and filled with pain and need and my cock is raging hard. She pulls my shirt off and digs her nails into my back. It fucking hurts.

  I grab her chin in my fingers. “Stop that.”

  She sets her jaw. “Make me.” She sounds angry, but her eyes beg me for the release she needs. Beg me to be hard on her so she can stop doing it herself. I pull down her pants, yanking her underwear down around her knees. Spin her around and bend her over the couch.

  I slap her ass. Hard. “When I say stop, you do it. Understand?”

  She looks over her shoulder, defiance flashing in her eyes. I slap her other ass cheek.

  “Answer me, Maya.”

  Her nostrils flare and she thrusts her hips back into my hand. Stays silent. I grab her hair and pull her upright, spin her so she’s facing me, so close she has to look straight up.

  “Answer me.”

  “I understand.”

  I yank back on her hair and she gasps, but her eyes soften. This is what she needs and I’m the one to give it to her. “What do you understand?”

  “I’ll stop when you tell me to.”

  “Why?”

  Her lips part and she stares into my eyes. I reach a hand between her legs and find her so fucking wet I can’t stand it. I jam two fingers inside her, intentionally raking my palm against her clit. She gasps.

  “Why? Answer me.” My cock throbs between us, straining towards her.

  “Because you’re in control,” she whispers.

  “Of what?”

  “Of me. I need you, Hudson. Like I’ve never needed anything.”

  There’s this moment of silence. My heart skids and stutters in my chest, her words a lightning bolt inside me. I put my hands on her shoulders and spin her back around, bend her over and thrust my cock inside her, fully sheathing myself in her warmth. She cries out and I slam into her again and again, my skin slapping against her perfect ass.

  “Fuck me!” she cries. “Harder!”

  I wrap my fist in
that gorgeous hair and pull back while I pound my dick into her pussy. She clenches around me and it feels so good. Better than anything. Anyone. Ever.

  She comes, crying out while I fuck her over the back of the couch. As her screams fall into whimpers, I slow my pace. Rolling my hips as I stroke in and out of her. I release my grip on her hair and run my hands gently down her back as she lays her cheek against the marble countertop, gasping for breath.

  “Thank you,” she whispers, her anger spent.

  She looks so small. So fragile. So raw and in need. I pull out of her and pick her up, cradling her in my arms as I carry her to my bedroom.

  Her eyes are soft and wide when I lay her on my bed. She stares into mine and for the first time ever, I know that I’m seeing all the way through to who she is. That in this moment she is truly naked before me. Her broken heart and bruised soul open to me and only me.

  Never once breaking eye contact, I slide into her, slowly. Almost reverently.

  “You are so beautiful,” I say as I roll my hips. My hands on either side of her head. My forehead nearly touching hers. “So kind. So smart. So funny. So talented.”

  I tell her all the things I’ve been thinking for the last few weeks, accentuating each one with a thrust of my hips, pushing myself deeper and deeper inside her, watching her watch me.

  “You are so much,” I say, finishing the thought in my head. You are so much to me.

  Her lips part. “I am nothing,” she whispers, so much pain in her eyes.

  I shake my head. Kiss her lips. Slide my dick in and out of her as her hands squeeze my ass.

  “Oh no, Maya. You are everything.”

  Her eyes roll closed. Her breath catches and her muscles clench around me. She comes and it’s beautiful, ecstasy softening her face.

  I am undone. I come inside her in two long spurts, shuddering and never once looking away from her tear-stained face.