Dr. Chase Hudson (The Surrogate Book 2) (11 page)

Then she did. She was a little hesitant at first. Her
hand stroked upward, her thumb circling over the head and I groaned
again, my body going stiff as her hand got more sure with each
stroke. Up and down. Then up and down with a twisting motion, making
my hand dig into her arm as the pressure built.

“That feels good, baby,” I told her,
wanting her to know she was doing well, wanting her to feel good
about herself as she stroked me toward fucking oblivion. My hand
moved over hers for a second, squeezing her hand so it grabbed me
harder. “Just a little harder,” I told her, letting my
hand fall. Her hand gripped me as she continued her stroking. “Yeah,
just like that,” I said, tilting my head up to the ceiling,
eyes closed, letting the sensation of her jerking me off overwhelm my
body. I wanted to get completely fucking lost in it.

Her head tilted up
and I tilted mine down to look at her. She was watching my face with
an avid sort of fascination. “Fuck,” I growled, feeling
her finger stroke over the head again, knowing I was close. “I'm
gonna come,” I told her, my hand grabbing her shoulder, the
other crushing into the wrist of the hand driving me toward the edge.
“Fuck...
Ava
...”
I growled as my orgasm coursed through me, coming hard and fast,
making my body jerk in the sensation.

Spent, my body went lax and I looked to find Ava
watching me still. I leaned down, pressing a kiss into her forehead
and she smiled up at me.
Huge
. Happy. Proud of herself. And,
fuck, I was proud of her too. So I smiled back.

“I made you feel good,” she said, her tone
shy.

“Yeah you did,” I said, nodding, then
leaned forward and took her lips. I pressed into them, letting my
tongue slip in and toy with hers until that was all there was in the
world. Us. Connected. Until I started to wonder if that was all I
ever wanted there to be.

On that thought, I tore my mouth from hers. “I'll
be right back,” I said, sliding away from her and moving toward
the bathroom to clean up. I needed to get some semblance of control
back. I soaped up a washcloth and went out to clean my come off her
hand before discarding the washcloth and climbing back into bed with
her again.

“Are the nerves better?”

“A little,” she admitted, lying on her side
to face me.

“Good,” I said, brushing the hair off her
neck and lowering my mouth there. A sigh escaped her lips at the
contact. “Because I really want to make you feel good. I want
to watch you as I make you come. And just when you start to come
down, I am going to drive you back up and make it happen again. Until
your body can't take anymore.” Her eyes went wide. But not with
fear or anxiety. No... with heat. “Does that sound good?”

“Yes,” she sighed.

“Good,” I said, pushing a hand on her
shoulder until she was lying flat on her back and my hand went to her
breast, toying with one and then the other until her body was
writhing under my touch, until she was crushing her thighs together
to ease the ache.

My hand went to
the center of her chest, brushing down her belly, down one thigh,
then up the other. My hand rested at the closure of her thighs,
waiting. “Let me in, baby.” Her legs spread open for me
and I wasted no time. I had been wanting to touch her from the second
I laid eyes on her in my office. I wanted to spread her and feel her
heat, to plunge my fingers into it, then my
tongue, my cock.

My finger traced up her pussy, finding it drenched.
“You're so wet for me,” I told her, fingers teasing her
delicate folds but avoiding her clit. “Is this okay?” I
asked, praying like fuck she didn't say no.

But what I got was a pained whimper of, “Yes.”

That was what I needed to hear.

My hand moved up, circling over her clit and her entire
body jolted hard at the contact. “Fuck,” I growled,
moving across it in slow circles, watching her arch off the bed, her
eyes closed. “Ava, look at me.” Then she did and I
stroked her no more than two more times before her eyes went wide,
her mouth parted, and her orgasm started. “Ah,” she cried
out hard, loud, her hands slamming into my shoulders as her body
shook through her climax.

“God, you're so fucking beautiful when you come,”
I said, leaning across her to claim her lips. And she kissed me back.
Greedily. I pulled away and waited for her eyes to open again,
sliding my finger away from her clit and almost chuckling when she
grumbled. “Don't worry, you're going to come again,” I
told her, sliding my finger down to the entrance to her pussy and
pressing against it. When she didn't tense, I slid my finger into her
wet, tight depths, almost groaning myself at the sensation. “You
with me?” I asked once my finger was fully inside her.

“Always,” she said, shocking the shit out
of me, the words landing with a weighted feeling in my chest that I
had to fight to not focus on as I turned my finger inside her,
crooking, and stroking over her g-spot.

“Oh my god,” she cried, her fingers digging
into my back.

I felt my lips quirk up. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” she moaned, her hips moving against
my hand, trying to get some relief.

Unable to help myself, I started finger fucking her.
Hard. Fast. The way I wanted to be able to actually fuck her, feeling
her pussy tighten around my cock, feeling her nails scraping across
my shoulders, her legs pulling me tightly against her, hearing her
begging for release in my ear.

Her moans got faster, higher-pitched. She was close.

I stopped thrusting. I stroked over her g-spot as my
thumb found her clit at the same time. And she just... shattered.

“Chase,” she cried, crushing her body to
mine, holding onto me.

“It's okay. I'm right here. Come baby.”

She came hard and long, her pussy spasming around my
finger for ages before she started to come down, her body trembling
slightly. I wiggled my finger again, seeing if she could take any
more. But she shook her head.

“No?” I asked.

“I can't,”
she said, flinging herself into me, burying her face in my chest. My
hand slid away from her pussy, moving to stroke across her hips, her
back, trying to bring her back down fully. “Talk to me,”
I said, my voice low and coaxing. But then I felt the tears sliding
onto my skin. I heard the hitch in her breath as she tried to cry
silently. “Babe?
Ava...” I said,
shifting, grabbing her face and forcing it up to mine. “Oh,
sweetheart,” I
said, my chest constricting
as my fingers brushed the tears away. “Are these good tears or
bad tears?” I asked and she turned her face into my hand,
kissing my palm. Thank god. “Good tears,” I concluded,
feeling the tightness lessen. I leaned down, kissing her tear-stained
cheeks, kissing her eyelids, then finally taking her lips.

A while later, both of us sated, nearly sleepy, I shook
my head at the room at large. “That was fucking amazing,”
I said, smiling. Because, well, it was. “I'm serious. You did
really well tonight.”

Apparently, that was not the right thing to say. Why? I
had no fucking idea. But the look was back in her eyes, her jaw
tight. And while she forced a smile, I knew it was just for show.
“Where are you going?” I asked, sitting up, trying to
reach for her as she all but flew away from me and got off the bed.

She didn't answer because she wasn't with me anymore.
She was somewhere trapped inside as she dragged her clothes on faster
than I had ever seen someone do before. Like she needed the barrier.
Like she needed to get away from me as fast as possible.

I had no reason, no good, solid, professional reason to
try to make her stay.

All I had were weak, flimsy, personal fucking reasons
that I had no business having, let alone sharing with her.

I moved off to the side of the bed, putting my feet on
the floor, resting my elbows on my legs, and holding my head in my
hands.

How the fuck did I let this happen?

“Hey,” she broke in, sounding almost
concerned. “Are you okay?”

I took a breath, not looking at her. “Yup,”
I lied. “So ya' leaving me?” I asked.

“It's... late. I have work in the morning.”

“Okay. Thursday. Seven-thirty.” Hell, my
words sounded dead even to my own ears.

“Umm,” she started and I could feel her
looking at me. But I couldn't look back. If I looked back, I was
going to lose control and fuck the whole thing up. Hell, fuck
everything in my life up. She shifted her feet. “Okay,”
she said in a tone that almost matched mine. Numb. Hollow. “I'll...
see you then.”

And then she left me.

After the Session

That night, I dreamed of meeting Mae.

It wasn't an unusual dream. It was definitely one I had
more often than the one where CPS took me away from my mother for the
first time.

Third year in college.

I was busting my ass in class during the day and
working back of house in a restaurant in the afternoons. Then I
stayed up most of the night studying. I spent almost all of my time
in a half-sleep fog, going through the motions, trying to convince
myself that it would all be worth it one day, but not quite believing
it.

It was that year that I had (alright maybe a little
foolishly) taken a women's studies class. Maybe partly because I
thought it would be a great place to meet some really smart, really
sexually confident women. Which, it was. It also turned out to be one
of my favorite subjects after I got over the raised brows and eye
rolls I got for the first few classes.

It was in that class that I met Natalie.

Natalie was everything I had ever wanted in a woman.
Smart. Sharp-tongued. Sure of herself. An animal in fucking bed,
teaching me more than a few things those first few months. She was
also gorgeous. Tall. Thin, but womanly. Long blonde hair. Sharp
facial features. Green eyes. She was the biggest ball buster I ever
met and constantly kept me on my toes.

Perfect. Or at least I was convinced of that at the
time.

It was four weeks in when I went to her apartment for
the first time.

That was how I met Mae.

Mae was two years younger than me and Natalie.

And opposite to her in almost every way.

Smaller. She was so short she was almost childish, but
also curvy enough that you knew exactly how much of a woman she
really was. She was red haired (the deep auburn kind), freckled, and
blue-eyed. She was smart, but in a more studied, bookish way. In all
the time I knew her, I never knew her to have a harsh word. She was
always backing away from an argument, always compromising her opinion
for the person's with more passion.

The longer I dated Natalie, the more time I spent with
Mae. It was partly because she was always around- never one to party
or even just go hang out and catch a movie or live music. So on the
nights where Nat had classes, I would stay in her apartment, bent
over my books, and try to force Mae out of her shell a little bit.

It was six months before I learned why she flinched
when I got too close.

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to,”
I said, watching her chew on her lip, her feet up on the couch, her
arm wrapped around her legs.

“If you're going to be a shrink, you're not going
to be able to give in that easily,” she said, giving me a small
smile.

“Alright, fine,” I said, smiling. “Tell
me why you're uncomfortable when I get close to you.”

A part of me knew. Or, at least, suspected. Watching
her eyes fall from mine as she took a shaky breath, yeah, it
confirmed it. “My first week on campus,” she started, her
voice small. “I went to a party. I got drunk for the first
time. And I...” she sighed, pausing. “I don't know
honestly. I woke up in a bed with someone and... we had sex. Or maybe
I was raped. I don't even know. I remember spending time with him. I
even remember going to his bedroom. After that, it's blurry.”
She was silent for long enough for me to think she wasn't going to go
on. “That was my first time,” she said and my heart broke
for her. “It was my first time and I still don't know if I lost
it willingly or not.”

“Christ,” I said, shaking my head, wanting
to go over to her and give her a hug, but knowing she would never
allow that. “I'm sorry that happened to you, honey,” I
said instead.

“Happens to girls everyday,” she hedged,
trying to turn my attention away from her.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “I'm sorry
that it happens to them too. But that happening to them doesn't make
whatever happened to you any less important. And just so you know,”
I went on, making my words a little more firm, “if for any
reason... drugs or being drunk or whatever... you don't remember it
happening, it shouldn't have happened at all. You couldn't consent
like that. Whatever did happen was
wrong
, Mae. And that wasn't
your fault. It was
his
fault. So don't go taking on the
blame.” I paused, gentling my tone again, “Have you...
talked to anyone about this?”