Honoring Hudson (Surrender Book 6) by Becca Jameson

Author:Becca Jameson [Jameson, Becca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Becca Jameson Publishing
Published: 2021-01-11T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Master Hudson

My evening was by far the strangest one I’ve ever had at Surrender. First of all, I was completely distracted by everything that happened from the moment Cindy and I arrived, to the moment I left her at the front desk.

I’ve never felt as much pride for anyone as I did for her when she accepted Davis’s apology and then encouraged him to stay. That took guts. It took a serious strength of character. I wanted to hug her while we were still in Roman’s office, but I controlled myself until we were alone. She didn’t need any sign of weakness while she faced Davis, and I feared she might get emotional if I wasn’t careful. Then she would be furious with herself and possibly me.

Our brief detour to the private room so I could kiss her senseless made my dick so hard it was difficult to stop. The hickey wasn’t planned, but when I started sucking on her and she moaned, I couldn’t bring myself to stop. Plus, I love her hair down, and for a few days, she certainly won’t take the risk of someone seeing the mark on her neck by pulling it back.

I might have gone too far. She might not be pleased with me when she has to go to class or the animal shelter. If so, I won’t do it again. But, Lordy, it seemed like she was not only into it while I was marking her but tingly about knowing it was there immediately afterward.

And then there was our unexpected interaction at the front desk. I was so close to leaving when she tossed that sass at me. It was both shocking and endearing. She’s testing me. I’m clear on that. I’m pretty sure I stunned her right back with my response. I also left her wobbly and aroused.

As I stepped into the main room and shut the door between us, I wished I’d had a mic to drop. That’s how impressive her response was to being grounded.

We’re in the car now. It’s after two. I lift her hand and rub her knuckles over my lips. “How was your night?”

She shrugs. “Busy. Awkward.”

I shoot her a glance as I lower her hand to my thigh, keeping it in my grip. “Awkward?”

“Yes. Someone got me all hot and bothered and then left me to face other human beings without enough functioning brain cells.”

I laugh. “Are you being sassy with me again?”

She sobers. “No, Sir.”

“You sure about that, baby girl?” I drop that endearment and let my voice dip as a way to transition her into her little. A subtle way to shift our dynamic as we drive home because when we get to the house—every time we get to the house—I want her to shed her adult self, literally and figuratively, and shift gears. “It sounds to me more like you’re testing me.”

She fists her hand in my grip. “No, Sir.” Her voice has also shifted on my cue. Her pitch has switched to her little.

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