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My clothes feel so tight, so in the way, it’s to the point of frustration, and I lean away to rid myself of my shirt. Yes, even my bra. This is it. This is the first time my best friend has seen my bare breasts, and it’s nerve-wracking and exciting all at once. His eyelids hood at the sight of my nakedness from the waist up; he appears to be at a loss for words. All I know for sure is I need this. I need his skin on my skin.
Hudson reaches out to me across the sofa. I wait, letting myself feel the thrill in the moment of knowing this man wants me in the same way I want him.
He comes at me with the force of a cheetah, taut and ready, on the verge of snarling.
I want to kiss all that skin, grab it, wrap myself around him and ride him through the sofa.
Hudson hovers over me, caging me in with his firm, tanned arms, his floppy hair framing his face above me.
His chain necklace hangs down and swings in the air above me. I hook my finger in it and draw him in for a kiss.
He hesitates. “Wait a second. Before we go any further. Tell me, are you my girl, Frenchie?”
“Haven’t I always been?” I say, my voice trembling. “Through everything, you’re the only one who’s always been there for me. I think I always knew on some level.”
A wicked smile stretches across his face. “Right answer,” he says, and takes my mouth once again.
The pressure of all that body is almost too much for me to handle, but at the same time, I want more.
I wrap my legs around his waist and draw him closer as we kiss.
I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be held down and kissed by this man—this sweet, strong, quiet man who is my best friend. Objectively, not necessarily that I’ve wanted him to do it.
And it’s better than I imagined. Hudson kisses a blazing path down the sensitive cords of my neck, traveling down my sternum. Never one to waste time when he’s hungry, my hard-working man takes possession
of my breasts with his hands and his mouth. I can tell he’s being careful, but even so, his fingers and mouth are rough, in the most delightful, sinful way. Hudson has a way of making me feel so treasured I can barely contain my joy. And at that moment, with his lips and tongue worshiping my breasts, his hands exploring every curve, I don’t care if this ruins our friendship. This was bound to happen, and we’ll deal with the aftermath when the time comes.
“Frenchie,” he mumbles after adoring one nipple and moving on to the other one.
“Hudson,” I whisper.
All the sensations are blowing my mind. I had always thought making out with my best friend would result in a lot of self-conscious giggling and clumsiness. We’ve seen each other at our most sloppy, seen each other through a host of embarrassing situations, and yet maybe that’s what makes this so easy. And that much hotter.
He reaches down in between us and flicks open the button of my jeans with one move, then reaches in to take what’s his. What’s always been his. My panties give way to his big, calloused hand, the skin at the juncture of my thighs thrilling at the contact. By the time he finds my cleft, I’m ready to peel my jeans off completely. But before I do, his one thick finger nudges my clit.
My eyes go wide, and I gasp at the electricity this sets off through my body.
“Hudson!” I squeak.
“Okay?”
I nod my head.
Acknowledging my consent, he growls, “Get rid of these jeans. Now.”
I take zero seconds to do as he tells me, and my jeans and panties go flying across the room. We share a brief laugh when my clothes hit the wall, but then another large wave rocks the yacht, and Hudson and I tumble off the sofa.
Immediately he checks me over. “Are you hurt? Seasick?”
I shake my head and pull him on top of me on the floor of the cabin. This is how much I trust the man; I’m gonna let him rock my world while we’re on a boat, knowing he would do anything to make sure I’m comfortable and cared for.
It’s not the first time for either of us, but it feels like it. This big, rugged man is going to tell me what to do and toss me around like a rag doll on this boat, and I am one hundred percent here for it.
I tug him back to me for a kiss—I can’t get enough of his lips, now that I have them— as Hudson continues his explorations down below. Slicking his fingers through my wet folds, he inches fingers into my slick heat. I moan into his mouth, egging him on. My body urges him to go deeper, and once again, he wastes no time. His thick digits stroke my walls, stretching me out, simultaneously drawing soft, lusty moans from my throat.
I hardly recognize myself in the noises he’s provoking out of me.
“Take it out, Frenchie,” he rumbles against my neck. “Take my fucking cock out. I want you to do it; I want to feel your hands around it before I wrap it up.”
