Found in You(101)

I moaned and tightened around him within minutes, surprised to feel the build of orgasm so quickly with only vaginal stimulation. It was the whole scene, the depravity of it, the utter baseness. It was wild and feral and uncontrolled. I hated that I loved it—loved it so entirely.

He wrapped his loose hand in my hair, yanking at it with just the right amount of pleasure and pain. My eyes began to close.

“Look at me,” he snapped.

My eyes flew open, meeting his.

“Can’t you see?” I was surprised he could speak through his exertion. “Can’t you see what you do to me? Can’t you see how you make me feel?”

He shifted, and I gasped as he hit a particularly tender spot. “Do you feel how hard you make me?”

I didn’t know if he wanted an answer, didn’t think I could speak if he did.

But he tugged again at my hair. “Do you?”

“Yes,” I cried out.

He picked up his speed, reaching a frenzied pace that threw me over the edge. “You do this to me, Alayna.”

I struggled to keep my eyes on him, to focus on his words through the rapturous haze that enveloped me. His words were important, and I wanted to hear what he said as much as I wanted to lose myself in the ecstasy he’d bestowed on me.

He was on the brink, too—I could read his body like it was my own—but still he kept his gaze connected to mine. “Even when you’re petulant and contrary, I still want you. Always, I want you. I want to give you everything. All of me. Why can’t you take it? Take it.”

He delivered one more elongated thrust, burying himself deeply as he poured into me with a low groan. “Take it!”

I whimpered as his release shuddered through me, extending my own into a second wave of euphoria that sent chills down my spine. Lost in the fog of post-orgasm, my ears still thrumming with the pulse of my heartbeat, I had a brief moment of clarity—what if it wasn’t Hudson that was incapable of being loved fiercely, but me?

The thought was fleeting, gone as soon as it had come. Of course, I could take his love. It was he who didn’t know how to show it.

He’d rolled off me by then and was sitting with his back braced against the sofa. Only traces of the wild passion he’d displayed a moment ago were present in his features, his shortness of breath one of the only indicators that he’d ever lost control.

Suddenly I was angry. Angry with him for resorting to f*cking as a way to end our disagreement like he always did. Angry that he expected it would change anything. Angry at myself for being seduced.

I propped myself up on my elbows and glared.

“Now, come on, Alayna.” His eyes narrowed. “You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”

His condescending tone irked me even more. “Sex isn’t the only way to show a person how you feel.”

“I know. I tried to give you a nightclub.”

His words stung though I couldn’t quite grasp why.

I was still figuring it out when he stood and zipped himself up. “If you want to continue fighting about this, which I’m sure you do, it will have to be later. I have work to do.”

My scowl remained long after he’d left. It was almost funny that I felt so enraged. I’d thought he’d fall to pieces if he’d known I wasn’t telling him things about my past with David, that I’d withheld my interaction with Paul Kresh. And if he’d gone crazy because I’d hidden things, I would have taken it. I’d kept things from him, and I deserved whatever distrust and hurt feelings that came from that.