Hudson

Chapter Eight

Before

I drove myself to the Brookes’ party. Usually if there was a chance I might get drunk, I would have relied instead on a driver. But I needed full control that night—that required no drinking and an easy escape route. After the shaky ending to the previous evening, I’d decided it was time to wrap the Celia experiment up for good. I’d made it clear there would be no us until she broke up with her boyfriend. If she didn’t offer to end things with him at this point, then I’d have to change my conclusion. Maybe her silly attachment was stronger than I thought. Maybe I was wrong.

But I doubted that.

I arrived after the sun had set and the party was in full swing. I wanted Celia waiting for me by the time I showed up. Part of me was surprised that she hadn’t tried to call me to make sure I was still coming. Though, with the way she’d left things the night before, I bet that she was giving me space. I also bet it was killing her.

I parked my car far from the house so I’d be sure to not be blocked in. As I walked up the long drive, I noted that Celia’s car wasn’t there. It didn’t mean anything. She could have been driven. She likely figured I’d give her a ride home. That wasn’t in my plans.

I halted for a moment at the front walk. What exactly were my plans? If Celia decided she was breaking up with Dirk, I’d have to tell her it was all a misunderstanding, of course. But after that, when she was crying and quite possibly mad as hell—what then? I was consumed with wanting to know her full reaction. In my dream ending, she’d make a public display and I’d be a front row spectator. This was the most fascinating part of the entire study, after all. Emotions. How they weakened the strong. How they deluded the intelligent. How they transformed a person into someone unrecognizable. I had an advantage with Celia that I hadn’t had with many of my previous studies—I knew people in her life well enough to be privy to the aftermath. I’d hear from my mother how quickly she recovered, whether or not Celia decided to get back with Dirk. I’d probably be on Sophia’s shit list for it, but that would be an improvement from being not on her list at all.

But wait. I was getting ahead of myself. Celia hadn’t even broken up with her boyfriend yet. No need to worry about the after when I was still in the before.

Inside the house, I grabbed a beer and found a group of acquaintances to sit with. Though I didn’t plan to drink much of it, I needed the bottle in hand as a prop. It made me seem casual, relaxed. The less desperate I appeared to Celia, the better. When she found me and realized I’d had no urgency to find her, I suspected it would raise her own desperation. She’d invite me to talk. I’d shrug and go along. My aloof demeanor would force her to play her best hand.

It was only a guess. But it was calculated and I had a good deal of faith in it.

When nearly an hour went by, and I’d seen no sign of The Subject, I began to wonder if I’d overestimated my holdings. Had she decided not to come? Looking for her was out of the question. Inquiring about her would also give up some of my leverage. But if I were careful about the way I asked…

I hooked eyes with Christina across the room. She’d been trying to get my attention for the last fifteen minutes, and I’d pretended not to notice. But damn, I noticed. She was wearing a short skirt that rode her hips and a halter top so high that miles of skin showed in between. She oozed sex. Her fuck-me lips were painted with a light gloss that made them look like they’d just been licked. She was a distraction—a distraction that I didn’t need.

But if anyone knew of Celia’s whereabouts, it was her.

I played the staring game with her, exchanging lewd glances until she beckoned me over. I pretended to consider it. Then I made my way through the swarm of bodies toward her, hoping that the stiffy I was sporting wouldn’t be witnessed by Celia. Maybe, if I worked the situation right, Christina could be my reward for concluding my experiment. Too consumed with my plans to think about my cock, it had been weeks since I’d gotten laid. Too long. I needed to be buried in pussy soon. And Christina Brooke was in possession of a more than acceptable pussy.

She leaned against the dining room archway as I approached, her eyes pinned on me. “Hudson Pierce.” She said my name with a slow seductive smile. “It took you long enough.”

I feigned innocence. “To get to the party?”

“To come looking for me.” She wet her lips and my gaze immediately rushed to her tongue as it flicked along its path.

Damn, she was going to make it difficult to keep focused, but I tried all the same. “I didn’t come looking for you. You summoned me.”

“That I did.” Her gaze flickered to my lips and back to my eyes. “And you came.”

“No, I didn’t. Not yet.” Flirting was easy with Christina Brooke. I’d have fucked her in high school if it weren’t for the fact she’d had a steady boyfriend. The boyfriend hadn’t been a problem for me, but Christina had been loyal. She’d also been innocent then. The way her demeanor had loosened up since the summer before, I had to think college had stripped her of her naiveté.

And then all I could think about was stripping Christina of other things.

“Oh, such a naughty boy.” Her grin was as wicked as my thoughts. “I sure hope that you haven’t already chosen your target for when you do.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I’d like to volunteer.”

I stifled a laugh but kept my face straight. “That’s funny that you think you’d have any choice in the matter.” I placed a hand on the wall above her head and leaned in. “I mean, if you’re my target, I’d hit it, whether invited to or not.”

Her intake of breath was audible. “Damn. You just soaked my panties.”

I glanced down at her tight skirt, imagining what sort of panties she was wearing underneath. Then imagining beneath the panties. “Maybe you shouldn’t be wearing any.”

“That could be arranged.”

The banter was more than fun. It was getting me hot and making me forget my real purpose for approaching her. I dropped my hand from the wall and took a sip from the beer I was nursing, forcing my mind to switch gears. “Why are you alone anyway, Christina? I expected to see Celia hanging at your side.”

She gave a bored shrug. “She was here earlier.”

“She already left?” Shit. I’d been too cocky to think that she’d wait.

“She might be back later. She said she needed some recovery time.” Christina swept her hair off her shoulder.

I raised a brow. What did she need to recover from? My nerves stood on end, concerned that I’d misstepped somewhere along the way. Self-centered thinking, maybe, but it didn’t end my worry.

Christina answered my questioning expression. “She broke up with her boyfriend today.”

My heart pounded in my ears. Celia had broken up with Dirk. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? I’d been prepared for a confrontation. I’d been prepared to put on a good show of longing. The news was almost anti-climactic, but still very satisfying.

“Are you sure they really broke up?” I took another tug of my beer to hide my glee. That swallow finished off the drink.

“Yeah, I’m sure. She was here when he called.” Christina took the bottle from my hand and set it on the buffet behind her. She waited until she was facing me again before she continued. “I don’t think she was planning to dump him, exactly, but one minute she was saying hello and the next she was saying she was sorry it was over. Yeah, I eavesdropped, but she didn’t leave the room, so I figured fair game.”

“Damn.” As if I’d judge her for eavesdropping. I could kiss her for it. And I would kiss her—very soon. A victory kiss followed by a victory plunge.

But first, there were too many unknowns. Celia and Dirk may have had a fight that had nothing to do with me. I needed more information before I could truly celebrate success. And I needed my source to give it to me without noticing I was prying.

With my hands free of the bottle, I moved into Christina, pressing her further into the wall. My dick hardened at the full body contact. “Why did Celia do that? I thought she was really into her boyfriend.”

Christina chortled. “You did not. You thought she was into you.” So I had no need to cloak my interest after all. “And she is. She dumped him because of you.” She ground her pelvis against mine.

A surge of triumph washed through me. My pulse quickened both from the excitement of my achievement and from the knowledge that I was about to fuck and fuck hard. It was almost painful to draw out the celebration, but I also knew the pleasure of delayed gratification.

Christina traced a finger along my jaw. “Obviously, you don’t return the feeling.”

“And she thinks of you as a close friend, Christina. Obviously, you don’t return that feeling.” God, what despicable people we were. We deserved each other. At least for the night.

“Au contraire. I love her like a sister.” She trailed her hands up the sides of my fitted shirt, sending sparks of electricity thrumming through my veins. “But she is not Hudson Pierce material. She could never handle you.”

“And you think you can?” It was my turn to smirk. As if anyone could handle me. I was the one who handled people. Just like I was handling Christina Brooke. She may have thought she’d seduced me from across the room, but it was I who was in control. And when I took her, it would be on my terms.

But allowing her to believe she had the power was half the fun.

“I know I can.” Her chin jutted forward in a challenge. Or she was hinting that she wanted to be kissed—probably a combination of both.

“Interesting.”

“Is it really? Because I’ll tell you what I think would be interesting.” She grabbed me through my pants, and I grew stiffer in her hand. If she kept that up, I’d come right there.

That wasn’t happening. I needed to get inside her. I needed to be balls deep. I needed to pound out the strange mixture of victory and self-loathing that was currently messing with my head. Waiting was done. It was time to act out my desires.

I leaned in to Christina’s ear. “Unless it starts with my tongue in your mouth and ends with my cock in your cunt, I don’t want to hear it.”

Her eyes dilated as she peeked up at me under her long lashes. “Let’s go to my bedroom, shall we?”

It didn’t have to be a bedroom. It didn’t even have to be private. “I’ll give you two minutes and wherever we are in that time, that’s where you’re getting fucked.”

She led me upstairs and to her room within her time limit. But just barely. As soon as the door was shut behind us, I was on her. My mouth mashed against hers in a bruising, erotic kiss. I plunged my tongue between her lips, immediately establishing my dominance. This would not be playful sex. This would not be sweet sex. This would be rough sex. This would be sex on my terms.

I broke the kiss long enough to pull her tank over her head. My hands palmed her breasts as I resumed my power over her mouth. She moaned as I bit at her lips. She sighed as I squeezed her tits. She yelped as I pinched her nipples. She loved it—every single minute of it.

I’d lost my virginity before I was sixteen, and in the three plus years that I’d engaged in sexual activity, I’d been broad in my exploration of technique and style. There were times that I fully enjoyed the idea of turning a woman on. It was a turn-on for me—not because I cared so much if my partner experienced pleasure but because it was a chance for me to exude my power. Like any of my experiments, I craved the dissection of cause and effect. I reveled in guessing what effect my actions would have on each of my lovers.

I knew how Christina would want it from her initial reactions to my dirty talk. She wanted me dominant and controlling. Fortunately, that was exactly the way I wanted to get off that night.

Without untangling my tongue from hers, I pushed her back to the bed. She started to sit, pulling me down with her, but she was not in charge of this experience. I was. I pulled away, exerting my domination and urged her to stand again. I turned her so her back was to me and nudged her down on the bed so that her ass was in the air in front of me. I placed my hands at the top of her thighs and caressed up to her ass, pushing her skirt up to her waist as I did. Her behind was round, plump, perfect for kneading. Perfect for biting.

Brushing the thin material of her thong aside, I swept my tongue across her cleft and then clamped my teeth into the flesh of her ass. She howled and my cock leapt. I danced my finger over her hole and found her wet and ready. Thank God I didn’t have to put much effort into prepping her. I was eager to be inside.

I pushed her panties down to her knees. “Spread your legs,” I commanded as I undid my zipper and pulled my jeans down just far enough to release my pulsing cock. Then, without warning, I shoved into her, filling her deeply with my first stroke. Shit, she was tight, and I realized she hadn’t been as ready as I’d imagined. That was fine. She felt goddamn amazing—snug and clamped down around me.

Gripping her hips, I began to plough at a steady pace, my jeans falling further down my thighs. I watched my cock as it thrust in and pulled out. It turned me on more. This was my favorite position—going from behind. It was the most erotic view and decidedly less intimate than face-to-face. Plus, it just felt good.

“Please tell me you’re on birth control.” I’d been reckless to not put on a condom, but frankly, I was feeling invincible. The triumph of Celia’s break-up, the way my plan had played out just as I’d planned, that I was fucking the girl of my choice in the way that I wanted—it was a powerful moment for me. I exhilarated in it.

“Yes. The pill.” Her voice trembled and I slammed into her harder, faster, the sound of my balls slapping against her skin the sensual underscore of our intercourse.

“Of course you are. Because you’re a dirty little slut, aren’t you? You have to take precautions because you never know when you’ll let yourself be fucked. Whenever you get the opportunity.” I didn’t always go for the demeaning sex talk, but it was a nice touch when the girl was into it.

Christina’s channel tightened around my cock. She was definitely into it.

“Say it,” I demanded. “Tell me you’re a dirty slut. Tell me you love to be fucked.”

“I’m a dirty slut. I love to be fucked.” She groaned it as much as spoke it, and immediately she grew wetter.

“Yes, you do love it.” I let go of her hips and leaned over her body so I could be near her ear. “Now, Christina, you need to get ready to come. Because I’m coming soon and I’m not waiting for you. You’re so good at being fucked, though, I don’t think it will be a problem.” I reached under her to rub her clit as I spoke. I wanted her squeezing my dick with her orgasm.

Whether it was my words or my rubbing, Christina complied, quickly erupting around me with a scream.

There, that was what I needed. I followed with a long, low grunt. My fingers returned to her hips, digging into her skin as I throbbed and pounded out the last of my climax.

I was still inside her when the bedroom door flew open.

Automatically, my face turned to see who our audience was. My eyes connected with familiar blues—Celia.

Could my night get any better? I’d thought the whole plan had ended perfectly before, but this was the real icing on the cake. Now, in this moment, Celia would realize that I didn’t actually feel the emotions that I’d led her to believe I’d felt. I’d thought I’d have to have a conversation about it. But, oh, do actions speak louder than words.

Celia froze in her spot. Her eyes darted from me to Christina and back to me. It all seemed to take minutes, but in reality, only a few quick seconds passed before her hands flew to cover her eyes. “Oh, my God.”

It was only then that Christina noticed our intruder. “Fuck! Celia.” She moved to get out from under me, but I held her in place.

“I’m sorry.” Celia’s voice cracked. “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

She spun and headed out the way she’d come in.

I could have gone another round—I was hard again from Celia’s interruption—and the last thing my cock wanted to do was withdraw from its warm cocoon. But I was desperate to draw more reaction from Celia. This was the final stage of the experiment—the recording of results. I had to know what she was thinking, what she was feeling. What she thought she was feeling.

Without cleaning up, I stuffed myself in my pants and gave directions to Christina. “Take off your skirt and panties and wait for me here. Next time I won’t be so gentle.”

She scrambled to obey as I left her. My cock throbbed, yelling at me to stay. My heart, on the other hand, beat wildly at the thrilling outcome of my experiment. The adrenaline and an ability to guess where Celia would go—to her car—allowed me to make up for the distance she’d put between us, though I didn’t spot her until I was outside.

“Celia, wait,” I called across the front lawn. I tried to sound urgent and panicked. I feared I sounded delighted.

She didn’t turn to me but acknowledged me with her middle finger. “Fuck you, Hudson.”

“Come on, wait.” I ran to catch up. When I was close enough, I reached for her arm.

She snapped out of my grasp then spun around to face me. “What? What do you want from me?” Tears fell in torrents down her cheeks. Her voice was surprisingly steady considering. The look though, was off-putting. Her obvious heartache tugged at something in my gut, something I had no familiarity with.

I ran a hand through my hair, a bit thrown. A breath later, I managed to say something. “We were going to talk. I came here tonight to talk.”

She laughed, her expression in complete contradiction to the flowing stream from her eyes. “That’s fucking hilarious. You came here to talk to me and what? You couldn’t find me so you talked to Christina instead?”

This was excellent. Her emotion was pure, raw. It intoxicated me in a way that very little else could. I wanted to bottle it, inhale it, take it in and process her feelings in depth. Since none of that was possible, I wanted to draw out as much as I could before she walked away.

I stepped toward her. She stepped back.

“What is it that I did wrong, Celia?” My voice was steady and controlled, in stark opposition to hers. “You act as though I owe you something. What exactly do you think is going on between us?”

A sob escaped her lips and she wiped at her tears with her hand. “I told you I loved you, Hudson. You kissed me.”

Another step toward her. “You kissed me.”

“And you insinuated that the only reason you stopped was because I had a boyfriend.”

Ah, her side. The details of my cruel setup cited back to me like a melody I’d orchestrated but was only now hearing. It was beautiful.

I looked at my feet, hiding the corners of a smile. “No. No, Ceeley.” I lifted my eyes to hers. “I’m truly sorry if you got the wrong impression. I was simply reminding you not to throw away your relationship with Dirk simply because you remembered how you once felt for me.”

“How I felt for…?” Her eyes flared with incredulity. “That is not what happened. You were feeling things for me too.”

“No. I wasn’t.” Here was the highlight of my act. My joy in performing it was a testament to my sadistic nature. I softened my expression. “I mean, I care for you. A great deal. I always have, I always will. I know that’s probably hard to hear, but that’s all I’ve ever felt regarding you.”

I was good. I knew it. I felt it.

Except Celia didn’t break the way I’d expected. In fact, her tears slowed and her brows furrowed in confusion. “What…what are you doing, Hudson?”

The way she looked at me, the way her gaze pierced through me—did she know? Had she figured out it was all an act? There was no way she could know. Who would guess that?

I paused too long before answering. “I’m trying to straighten out this misunderstanding.”

She studied me. “No, you’re not. You’re running away.” Her shoulders, which had sagged only a moment before, squared with renewed strength. She was the one who took a step toward me this time.

I was the one who stepped back.

“You’re convinced that you shouldn’t be allowed to feel anything or that having emotions will make you weak or something equally as ridiculous, and so you’re pushing me away.”

My calm was unraveling. Her words—they stung. They bit at me. They burned. And like the dragon who was angered by the meager attempts of humans to draw it down, I grew furious.

She took advantage of my setback. “Stop pushing me away,” she pled.

The softness of her appeal, the sweetness in her eyes, the sincerity of her posture—it stirred me. There she was assuming things about me again. She wanted to see me feel? Well, I was feeling a whole shitstorm of rage. “You don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about,” I hissed.

Her attack—because I refused to call it anything else—didn’t waver. “Stop this, Hudson. Stop lying to me. Stop lying to yourself. This isn’t who you are.”

Fury spread through me so thick that it propelled me forward until I was in her face. “This is who I am, Celia. Don’t you dare think you know something different. What you see is what you get.”

“You’re a fucking coward.” Her voice caught and I savored the victory. To her credit, she didn’t back away. “This was your chance to be a man, Hudson. I could have even forgiven your thing with Christina if you could just be honest now.”

“You could forgive me?” My eyes widened in mock exclamation. “Well, hell. How will I ever go on without your pardon?” My voice was uncharacteristically loud. I didn’t care. Venom was spewing from me whether I wanted it to or not—and I wanted it to. It was no longer about an experiment of emotion. I wanted to hurt Celia. She was the very example of how love weakened a person. She was pathetic. I loathed her.

I loathed myself for contributing to this creation.

“Scratch coward. I meant to say asshole.” She was too kind to me.

I stepped back from her, not in retreat, but in disgust. I was consumed with it—the emotion wrapping around my insides like a cobra. “Jesus, you’re really a piece of work, Celia Werner. What did you think was going to happen between us? You thought I was going to love you? You thought we were going to ride off into the sunset together? You’re the one who needs to stop lying to yourself. That’s a fairy tale, Ceeley, and I stopped believing in those a long time ago. It’s time you grew up too.”

I was done with her. Done with all of it. I left her there, crying on the edge of the driveway. I didn’t turn back once.

The next two hours I spent alleviating my temper in carnal ways with Christina. I fucked her hard and long and unrelentingly until she was raw and I was numb inside and out. A quick shot of whiskey before I left the Brookes’ kept the numbness clinging to me until I pulled into the driveway at Mabel Shores. I closed my eyes and rested my head for a moment on the steering wheel of my BMW Z4, a high school graduation present from my parents. I felt…tired. Exhausted. Drained. I certainly had notes to add to my log. My findings had been satisfactory, though not as precise as I would have wished. A part of me wanted to study further in this vein—would another subject react as Celia did, turning on me? Or was it her close relationship with me that produced the results I’d seen?

A bigger part of me never wanted to experiment with a subject so close to me again. It was too unreliable of a study. From then on, I promised myself, my research would be conducted further from home.

I’d been too distracted to notice Celia’s car until I’d gotten out of my own. It was parked at the other end of the circle drive. Its appearance was ominous—I didn’t like what it could possibly mean. I walked over to make sure she wasn’t waiting inside. She wasn’t. So I headed inside the house. The front door was locked, which meant if Celia was inside, she’d been let in before the house had been shut up for the night.

I intended to search for her but halted when I discovered Mirabelle curled in a ball reading on the main staircase. “Why are you still awake?”

“What’s it to you?” She must have sensed that I was in no mood for her attitude because she quickly amended. “It’s summer. I don’t have a curfew. Or a nanny anymore, it appears.”

Right. Erin was fired. Mother must have won that battle.

If we had parents that gave a damn, Mirabelle would have a curfew whether it was summer or not. “As long as you’re up—” Might as well use her for information. “What’s Celia’s car doing here?”

My sister shrugged her slight shoulders. “She came by. I told her you weren’t home and she said she’d wait for you on the patio. That was, like, two hours ago. She probably fell asleep out there.”

“Fuck,” I mumbled under my breath. I wasn’t in the mood to deal any more with Celia that night. But it would be even worse to have to explain her sleeping on a deck chair in the morning.

I nodded up the stairs. “Get to bed, Mirabelle.”

“I don’t—”

“Get to bed.”

“Fine.” She stomped up the stairs muttering something about “never having any fun.” I waited until she was out of sight before checking on Celia. Last thing I needed was Mirabelle as a witness to whatever was going to happen next.

The patio outside was empty, so I walked down to the pool to see if Celia had ended up there. She wasn’t there either. I was about to head down to the beach when I noticed the lights on in the guest house. My father had stayed there after the party the night before, and that morning my mother had his things moved as well. Maybe Celia had wandered over looking for me.

I’d only taken two steps toward the house when the door opened. Celia walked out then my father appeared in the doorway behind her. From where I was, and in the dark, I couldn’t be sure, but it seemed he wasn’t wearing anything but swim trunks or boxer briefs. He held his hand out and he must have said something because Celia turned back to him. She took his hand. He pulled her to him. And they kissed. It wasn’t a long kiss, but I knew that kind of kiss. It wasn’t a first kiss—it was a thanks-for-the-fuck kind of kiss.

My stomach churned, and I looked away. I stepped back into the darkness both to remain unseen and to be off the pathway in case I puked—I’d rather do that on the lawn.

At some point, their kiss must have ended, because when I glanced back, the door was closed and Celia was halfway up the walk. She slowed the tiniest bit when she saw me, but she didn’t stop. As she passed, I saw her more clearly—her lips were swollen, her hair and clothes a mess. We didn’t speak a word to each other, but a conversation transpired nonetheless. With my eyes, I told her I knew. With her eyes, she told me we were even.

With our silence, we said that it was done now. We were done now.

It was a shared understanding. Soon she was gone and a few minutes later, I heard her car starting up in the driveway.

Then I walked down to the guest house. Celia and I might be done, but my father and I were not. He’d done a lot of fucked up shit before, but this I couldn’t stand by without giving him my take on the situation. This was too low. Fucking his wife’s best friend’s daughter not one hundred feet away from where his wife slept? No wonder I had no sense of ethics.

The light inside the guest house was out now, but I knocked on the door lightly—light enough that he might assume it was Celia again and not his full-grown son. It didn’t take long before he answered the door, and when he did, I was ready. I punched him in the face. Hard.

I left him cursing and holding his cheek. He didn’t need any explanation for my behavior. He might have been an asshole, but he wasn’t an idiot.

The night hadn’t gone exactly as I’d planned. But I’d finished my experiment. I’d ended the drama with Celia. I’d learned more about how the idea of love affected human behavior. I’d even gotten laid.

If it had been such a fulfilling evening, why did I feel so fucking empty?

With my head throbbing and my chest heavy, sleep took its time to arrive. When it finally did, I dreamed I was in a fire, that flames licked at me, scorching me, robbing me of oxygen, destroying me. I woke in a sweat. Fucking nightmare. It held no truth in it.

In reality, I wasn’t on fire. I was the fire.