30. Hudson

30

HUDSON

I enter the kitchen, where Ember sits at the table, going through her work notes. She sorts through some paperwork between typing on her laptop, with a piece of toast hanging out of her mouth. If she’s not physically working on something for XConnect, she’s researching something related to it.

She is the most hard-working, dedicated person I’ve ever met.

It’s sexy as hell.

She’s so focused she doesn’t even hear me enter the kitchen while she plugs away, nibbling at her breakfast, but paying more attention to her work than her food.

I had only been gone for two weeks, but it felt longer—not only in time, but in the subtle changes that are shining through her. She’s more confident, something that I think has to do with Elena, Cruz, and her current project. Maybe she’s got a little glow from last night; I’d like to think it has something to do with me, too.

She has also lost a few pounds. Not much, but enough for me to notice, because hell, I notice everything about her .

I see now that she gets so involved in work, hyper-focused on whatever she is working on, that her food ends up just sitting there, and she probably skips way too many meals.

I can handle her dedication to her career, but not at the expense of her health.

“Your breakfast is getting cold,” I remind her of the lone plate that’s been pushed to the side.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” She picks up her fork, stabbing a tiny strawberry, eats it, then returns the fork, and pushes the plate even further away.

A subconscious habit I’m going to have to break out of her.

Pouring myself a cup of coffee, I take a few sips, observing her before I slide into the seat next to her, placing my laptop on the table.

“Do you have a few minutes to research some other things?” I push my closed laptop closer to her and she eyes it suspiciously.

“Sure, like what?” she asks, glancing at me before shutting down her laptop.

“Open it up.” I tip my chin at my computer.

Her brows furrow, and she gives me a curious look. Reaching for the device, she pulls it in front of her and opens the screen.

“Oh… my.” Her voice a breathy whisper.

I smile as I watch her eyes bouncing between the sections of the screen. I observe deeply when she stops on one side, biting her lip, and her cheeks flush a bright shade of pink.

“Which one caught your attention?” But I already know the answer based on where her eyes are stalled.

I took the time this morning to pull up different videos with an array of kinks, things that I thought might interest her. Using a new window and placing each of them on different areas of the screen. I was curious as to the one that would catch her attention first and, as I guessed, her eyes zero’d exactly where I thought they would—the top left-hand side of the screen.

The night we spent together, after I steered her away from that shitty hotel she was trying to stay at, she took charge in a way I had never experienced with another woman. It was euphoric, seeing her take charge like she does in life, with how she dives into projects, her job, and anything else she puts her mind to.

I assumed lack of sexual experience caused her to shy away from doing more of what she desired, but I think nerves got the best of her, so she refrained from being open about what she really wanted.

So, I strategically placed a video of a woman blindfolded and tied to a bed in complete submission to a man who is clearly dominating her. Another video is the exact opposite. A man, blindfolded, restrained, allowing the woman to be in full control.

As I suspected, her head tilts to inspect the subdued man. Avoiding the submissive woman like it’s the plague, she leans closer to the blindfolded man, angling her view as she appraises the stilled clip.

My lips lift up in a smirk at my observation and her blushing as she bites her lip.

Reaching over the keyboard, I tap the spacebar, and the video begins to play. She flinches back with a gasp as the woman crawls over her lover, caressing him softly at first, then wraps her hand around his cock and begins stroking and jerking as her lips lick the swollen tip.

My body has a mind of its own when I stand and step behind her. My hands rub up the sides of her arms and the touch rips her out of her trance. She stands, panicked, picks up her coffee mug, and walks around the kitchen island, setting her mug in the sink. She misjudges the depth, and the mug drops aggressively onto the steel, clanging against the ceramic .

“Shit!” she curses.

“Hey.” I follow behind her.

She turns around to face me, her shoulders back, faking a confidence that doesn’t match the flush in her cheeks.

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t looking at that one.” She’s trying to convince herself more than me.

“Yes, you were.” I place my hand under the hem of her top, grazing my fingers over the soft skin of her stomach, wrapping my arm around her back and pulling her hips to mine.

She whimpers, feeling the hardness of my length against her belly button.

“But guys don’t like that. They like to be in charge.” She refuses to look at me, only allowing her gaze to protrude downward, in a shame that she shouldn’t feel.

It didn’t take long for me to realize she was sheltered her entire life, but I didn’t realize until now how debilitating it has made her feel. The glass ceiling she was raised in is built of fortified metal and stone, and I have every intention of breaking it the fuck apart.

Tipping up her chin, I force her to look at me.

Our eyes sear into each other. The burning desire behind hers fuels mine.

“That guy doesn’t.” I angle her chin toward the video playing behind me. I can’t see the man, but I can hear him. Boy, can I hear him. He’s close, desperate, begging.

Her eyes flutter with her heavy breath, hearing the guttural, anguished sounds coming from the tiny speakers thunderously filling the silence between us.

“ You like control.” Her eyes wholly focused on the wretched man.

“I’d give it up for you.” I trail my hand down her chest, over her pebbled nipples, and dip my fingers into her loose cotton shorts. Her arousal coats my fingers instantly, and we moan in unison .

I need more of her. God, I’m desperate for her, as much as that man in the video is desperate for the release his lover has withheld from him.

I switch places with Ember, placing her back against my chest. My body leans against the counter as I circle my arms around her and slide my fingers over her slit.

We can both see the screen. The man’s hands are still tied to the bed, his lover edging him to the peak of his climax before stopping. He’s begging, whining, and asking for release.

Ember grips me tightly, one hand clenching around my pant leg, her other around the back of my neck, holding on for dear life.

Her moans grow louder with his. It doesn’t take a genius to see how much she likes to please more than be pleased herself. She can’t take her eyes off him, and I can’t take my eyes off her.

Would I give up control for her? Let her do whatever the hell comes to that gorgeous mind of hers?

Fuck, yes.

His moaning stops, and I glance up to find the woman walking around the bed, grabbing something from offscreen, then appearing again at the end of the bed. Ember’s hips are rolling into my hand as she moans, my moans echoing her own. My hips dance with hers subconsciously, my cock needing something, anything.

The woman kneels onto the bed, placing herself between the man’s legs. Pressing one hand to the inside of his thigh, his legs open, and a shiny plug appears in the palm of her other hand. My eyes are a permanent fixture on the blinded man. His eyes may be covered, but he knows damn well what’s coming.

I should have done a better job of screening the fucking video, given the fact that I just told Ember I’d give up control for her. I’ve never had a plug up my ass, so I’m not quite sure how I, or she, feel about that.

It takes milliseconds to figure it out, when Ember’s lips part and she whimpers along with the man as the plug invades the forbidden space.

I freeze, trying to focus on him—her—my own shocked response to the sexual act, which is surprisingly a whirlwind of sensation pooling at the base of my spine, ready to explode when Ember whispers, “Please, don’t stop.”

She tosses her head back against my chest as she moans through an explosive orgasm, timed perfectly with his.

Jesus, fuck.

That was hotter than I expected.

My cock is rock hard, and I need her. I need her so fucking bad.

Flipping her around, I grip her waist and lift her on top of the island. Pulling down the front of my sweatpants, my cock springs out and she reaches for it on instinct. Her delicate fingers wrap around the base, and she strokes her hand to the tip, feeling my hardened length under the soft skin, forcing a grunt from me of an immeasurable tone.

She feels so good. Everything she does feels so good.

I’m staring into her blazing green diamond eyes, that are as hooded as mine, and I’m desperate to taste her. Before I can crush my lips to hers, the ringing from our front door intercom chastises me, stopping both of us.

“Fuck,” I whisper, leaning my forehead against hers, still unable to stop a smile from lifting at the side of my lips at the fact that she’s opening up to me, that I get any part of her for even a tiny bit.

“Don’t move.” I kiss the tip of her nose, pull the waistband of my pants up, and walk to the intercom.

“Hello.” I press the intercom button to the lobby desk.

“Mr. Byrnes, sir. There is someone here to see Mrs. Byrnes. He provided the name Robert Riley, which Mrs. Byrnes gave us yesterday, but upon checking his ID, it actually says Elliot Jones. ”

Giving myself a mini whiplash, I turn to look at Ember. Her widened eyes and suddenly pale face tell me she is just as shocked as I am to hear that.

She jumps off the counter, grabbing her zip up sweater laying over the top of the couch, and slips on her flip flops.

“I’ll be right back.” She reaches for the handle of the front door.

I place my hand over hers. “I’ll come with you.”

“No, I can handle this.” She smiles. It’s soft, unsure.

The worry behind her eyes is like a goddamn trumpet and just as chaotic as the music it makes. I’m confident she can handle it. I’m not confident she won’t become a verbal punching bag in the process.

I purse my lips and allow my hand to slide off hers. “Okay.”