His hand on her back forced her back down, pinning her to the mattress. “Then you get it.”
And she did. In and out. Forward and back. He fucked her until they were both covered in sweat and reduced to half speaking/half groaning dirty phrases that turned her on even more. She wasn’t about to deny or delay her climax this time. As her body tightened around his pistoning cock, she chased that high, reaching for it with every breath until it broke over her and she screamed his name.
“That’s it,” he said, plunging into her with renewed frenzy. “Squeeze that cock, milk it.”
Then, with one last hard thrust, he came, his body going still as it rolled over him. As he collapsed next to her, pulling her in close, she realized she hadn’t thought of her mission to date Tyler once since she’d gotten in the car with Hudson. What exactly that meant, she’d figure out tomorrow when they got back to the city.
…
The elevator doors leading to Hudson’s mom’s penthouse closed after a young couple with a crying baby got off on the fifteenth floor, and he heaved a sigh of relief. If he had drunk anything alcoholic since he’d dropped off Felicia at her apartment last night, he’d blame the dull pounding in his head on a hangover. As tempting as it had been to go get drunk after Felicia had sent him packing—no doubt already planning her next play for Tyler. His hands curled into fists at the thought of her with the other man. She couldn’t be his. He knew that. Understood it. That didn’t mean he had to like it—especially since the entire point of hanging out with her was to help her catch Captain Clueless’s attention. It was all she wanted, and the least he could do was not be a selfish bastard but make sure she got the stupid dickwad.
So instead of replaying every dirty thing they’d done over the weekend at the cabin—and the fact that she cut up her pancakes first and then poured the syrup (Who does that?), he’d ended up working on the less fun side of being Hughston. He’d spent most of the night and today working on the business of being an artist. Taxes. Bills. Interview requests. Scheduling a meeting with Everly to discuss the upcoming show. He may not have ever wanted to get his business degree, but he had to admit it came in damn handy.
The elevator binged as it stopped on the top floor, opening to a small lobby with two doors. One led to the penthouse of a retired actor who’d been in almost every action movie Hudson had loved growing up and the other door went to his mom’s penthouse where she was holding court during her weekly family cocktail parties. They were called family cocktail parties, but Helene took an expansive view of the term. Though tempted to go knock on Hank Murphy’s door to talk about the good old days when the old man had done every stunt himself, Hudson turned the other direction.
Helene opened the door before he had a chance to knock.
She gave him a quick air kiss and ushered him inside, hooking her arm through his. “I was beginning to think you were locked up in your cabin again.”
“And miss out on the standing family cocktail hour?” he asked, giving her a teasing wink. “No way.”
“You’ve missed plenty before, and this one isn’t just family,” she said leading him into the living room, which awkwardly enough had an original Hughston above the fireplace. “I invited Tyler and your new friend is already here.”
His brain sped right past Tyler’s name and jerked to a stop on the second part. “Friend?”
“There she is over there talking to Clover.” Too well-bred to point, Helene nodded toward where Clover stood with Felicia near the grand piano covered with family pictures. “Last time I walked by, they were talking about ants that act as living refrigerators.”
“The honeypot ant,” he answered automatically.
If his brain had been working at all, he would have been disturbed that he’d offered up that bit of information voluntarily. As it was, all the blood in his body started speeding straight to his dick the moment he spotted Felicia. Her back was to him, and she was wearing a navy-blue dress that narrowed at her waist and flared out past her hips before stopping a good couple of inches above her knees. Her long brown hair was in her signature ponytail, but instead of slipping free at odd spots, it was all curled and bouncy. He wanted to hustle her into the closest room with a door just so he could wrap it around his fist as he fucked her.
“You know about it, too?” Helene asked, interrupting his very not-safe-for-a-family-cocktail-party thoughts. “I had to keep walking, so I wouldn’t get drawn into the conversation.”
Pulling back from thoughts about Felicia, he led his mother a few feet closer to the piano because there was a waiter standing there with a tray full of champagne glasses. “I’ve never known you to be a delicate flower.”
“I’m not, but that’s not why I’m glad you decided to show tonight,” she said. “You’re on duty tonight.”
“I am?”
“Yes.” She pivoted them so they were facing Tyler and Sawyer, who were standing together and by the looks of it, all they were missing were their rulers. “They’re here, but they’re not talking. Again.”
He did not want to go over there. Just looking at Captain Clueless had him curling his hands into fists. The last thing he wanted was to make that douchebag’s life easier.
“You know, you can’t just hit them over the head with a sledgehammer and force them to do what you want.”
“I know. It’s very annoying,” Helene said with deadpan delivery. “Go work your magic.”
Stubborn. Focused. Determined to bend the world to her image of it. At first, a stranger might think she w
as all Sawyer and no Hudson. The Hughston painting—the cosmos painted into a little girl’s eye—told him different. If Sawyer was the hammer, then Hudson was the grease. Either way, they were both their mother’s sons and always managed to get their way; they just went about it by different methods. After giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, he went in the exact opposite direction of where his dick wanted him to go and walked over to Tyler and Sawyer.
“How was the Giants game?” he asked.
“It just about killed me,” Sawyer answered, going into insane amounts of detail about every hit, error, and RBI for the game that had gone twelve innings.
By the time he was done, the others had visibly relaxed, but not Hudson. Tyler had snuck too many looks over at Felicia for him to be calm. In fact, he was conjuring up a third possibility for how to not go to jail after he shoved the other man off the balcony when his brother asked him if he wanted another drink.
“Sure,” he said. “Make it a double.”