A Very Merry Nanny (Very Merry #2)

Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

HUDSON

T he credits roll, and Emma's sound asleep. Her lips are slightly parted, and she looks like she doesn't have a care in the world. Her chest rises and falls in a calming rhythm. A glow from the screen highlights the gentle curve of her cheek, and I can’t help but notice how peaceful she looks. What's she dreaming about? Me?

A smile touches my lips as I watch her, and the moment grabs me in a chokehold. I wonder if I can be the man who makes her happy. She deserves someone who appreciates her and chooses her every fucking time.

Emma could have anyone in the world—not an exaggeration—yet she still chose me. Call me cocky, but I don't ask why—I know what I bring to the table. And so does she.

Waking her when she's sleeping so peacefully almost seems cruel. I linger for a moment, admiring her as I watch her breathe. This is a memory I want to remember, one I'll visit on dark, lonely nights.

I reach forward, gently removing the glasses from her pretty face, and place them on the nightstand.

“Mm,” she murmurs. Carefully, I slide the decorative pillows from under her, the fabric whispering against the sheets as I lightly toss them onto the floor. Then, I lift the comforter over her. I've had plenty of practice doing this with Colby. If I've learned anything, you should never wake a sleeping baby.

Emma rolls onto her side, getting comfortable. Her wavy hair splays against the pillow.

I turn off the TV, and the sudden silence is almost palpable. Moonlight filters through the room, and I gather the empty popcorn bowl and our glasses. Once downstairs, the spiced rum calls me from the counter where I left it. Its amber hue glistens in the overhead light, and I take two long pulls. The liquid burns as it slides down my throat. It may be harsh, but it does the job of relaxing my mind. Or so I thought.

I lean against the counter, recalling my past while trying to predict my future. The night Emma and I spent together during the summer was so fucking magical that it continues to swirl in my mind. Being with Emma changed me, and I'm a different man, a better man because of her.

I freeze, staring at the harsh glow of the overhead lights that flicker off and on. The sound of the strong wind howling outside pulls me from my thoughts. I turn toward the windows overlooking the backyard. Tree branches whip violently in the gusts, their silhouettes casting eerie shadows on the ground. Almost on cue, heavy rain begins to pour. The rhythmic drumming against the roof creates a symphony that soothes and unnerves me.

The town folk were made aware of the cold front moving through with freezing conditions. Yesterday, I stocked up on food to last us for two weeks, but our outages never last that long. The temperatures are near freezing, but the rain stalled yesterday. It arrived with gusto.

“Shit,” I mutter as the potted plants tumble off my back porch, their ceramic bodies crashing to the ground. The wind chimes, usually a source of gentle music, now clash violently together, creating a discordant symphony in the howling wind. Just then, the power cuts out, plunging everything into darkness. I find my way back to my room, each step uncertain, but that could be the spiced rum taking hold.

The backup generator hums to life almost immediately. I relax, knowing our food won't spoil.

Quietly, I enter my room. Moonlight spills through the oversized windows, splashing across the floor in silvery hues as I move toward the bed where Emma still sleeps. I slide beneath the blankets beside her, feeling warmth radiate from her body. She instinctively scoots closer, placing her arm over my stomach. Her breath tickles my skin as she nuzzles into me, seeking comfort.

“Good night,” I whisper, brushing my fingers through her hair. She doesn’t respond, already too lost in her dreams.

I hold her like she might disappear in the middle of the night. With her in my arms, the weight of the day finally crashes over me. And despite the storm raging outside, the world quickly fades away. I instantly fall asleep.

When I wake, for once, I feel rested. I reach over, my palm rubbing across the sheets where Emma was, and it's cold. The sheets are slightly rumpled, and the faint scent of her bubble gum bubble bath lingers in the air.

When did she wake? The question hangs in my mind.

I reach over to click on the bedside lamp, but it does nothing. The room remains shrouded in shadow, the morning light struggles to penetrate through the clouds.

“Great,” I mutter, the cool air brushing against my skin when I sit up. I grab my phone from the bedside table, the screen illuminating my face with a harsh glow. It's just past six, and I have already missed notifications.

I check my texts.

Mama

Power is out, thanks to high winds. Ice is on the way. The farm's closed until it's safe for people to travel on the roads. Announcement has already been posted. I'd bring Colby home, but some down trees are blocking the driveway.

Hudson

He's safe with you for now. Need me to come over and help with the trees?

My parents are early birds, so I'm not surprised when her text bubble pops up.

Mama

No. Lucas is taking care of it as soon as he can since he's closer.

Hudson

Let me know when it's clear, and I'll come get Colby so you don't have to leave.

Mama

I will. How are things there?

Hudson

Not sure. Haven't been outside yet.

I slide out of bed, and the morning air's chill wraps around me. It's fucking cold in here. I move to the window and see tiny ice pellets cascading down like a curtain of shimmering crystals. The brunt of the storm hasn’t arrived yet. This sleet is a prelude to the chaos that's sure to come.

I hear the water shut off in my bathroom, and the door creaks open moments later.

“Hi,” Emma says.

I turn to face her, my gaze flickering down from her bright eyes to her perky little nipples, barely concealed by the thin fabric of her tank top, before returning to her mouth. She leans against the door jamb, her silhouette framed by the muted light of the overcast morning. I drink in every single curve, how her hair falls around her shoulders, the rosy hue of her cheeks.

She's breathtaking .

“Hi,” I reply, my voice rough from sleep.

When she shivers slightly, I pull a quilt from the wooden storage chest at the end of my bed, feeling its weight in my hands. I move to her, wrapping it gently over her shoulders. “I’m sorry. The electricity is out. Could be like this for a few days.”

“Days?” she looks up at me, her expression a mix of surprise and concern, then glances down at the blanket. “Did Mawmaw make this?”

“Yes,” I say, chuckling at the memory of my grandmother's hands stitching the quilt together with love and care. “It was a gift.”

“For what?” she asks.

I swallow down the lump in my throat. “It was a wedding gift, to be specific, but Meredith hated it despite it holding sentimental value. It was special to me.”

“It’s beautiful. These specific flowers are her style.” A warm smile spreads across her face as she runs her fingers along the intricate patterns of the fabric. “Why do you keep it locked away?”

I don't know how to answer that, so I say nothing.

“Well, you shouldn't hide it. That's all I'm saying,” she says. The quilt is a piece of home, and it holds a reminder of comforting memories woven into every stitch.

“You're absolutely right about that,” I admit, the tension easing slightly as I contemplate her words.

Emma reaches for her head, a playful frown creasing her brow. “Ugh. I think I drank too much last night.”

“I was worried that would happen. Let's get you some coffee, water, and food.”

“Yes, please.” Her hand reaches upward and runs her gentle fingertips down my chest. Goosebumps trail over my skin, which always happens when she touches me.

“Are you cold? You've got chill bumps. I'll share my quilt with you,” she says. The considerate offer makes my heart thump a little harder. She's always so considerate.

“It's not the temperature, Em,” I say, meeting her eyes, hoping she understands the unspoken meaning behind my words.

A grin meets her lips, and she pulls her arm from the quilt. “You do the same to me.”

“We're fucked,” I tell her, the gravity of our situation settling in.

“I know,” she replies, chuckling as if the absurdity of it all is both terrifying and exhilarating. Emma moves beside the bed, snagging her glasses and slipping them onto her face. “Wow, it's like viewing the world in 8K. Now your face isn't blurry.”

I smile at her. “Breakfast time, babe.”

“Am I on the menu?” she asks playfully, a teasing glint in her eye. “Because I'd love to be.”

I glance at her, curiosity piqued. “Is that your answer?”

“I told you last night, I want you sober or drunk. Doesn't matter, Hudson. I know what I want for Christmas.”

My brows quirk up, amusement dancing in my gaze.

“You,” she states, her voice sultry and direct. “I want you for the holidays. Do I need to sit on Santa's lap and ask? I know I've been a bad fucking girl, but I promise to be very good the rest of the year.”

I narrow my eyes at her, my heart racing as I move closer. She takes a step back, her body pressing against the cool wall behind her. A delicious but dangerous temptation lingers between us. I breathe her in, reveling in how sweet she smells. I kiss along her neck, feeling her shiver beneath my touch.

“Are you sure I'm what you want?” I ask.

“Not a single doubt,” she confirms, a gasp escaping her as she drops the quilt onto the floor. The fabric pools around our feet. “Kiss me, please.”

“I fucking love it when you use your manners.”

Her fingers thrust through my hair, and our lips crash together in a fiery, desperate union. Greedy little pants escape from her throat, and I think I might stop breathing as we spiral into the abyss together. Her moan is a confession, audible proof that she's mine.

“I need you, Hudson. Begging isn't below me.”

“Mm.” My voice is low and teasing, but she surprises me as she falls to her knees. Emma looks up at me with those bright brown eyes behind black-framed glasses. Her expression is full of desire. She licks her plump lips, and my breath catches. The charged air swirls around us, and every cell in my body awakens.

“I want to be yours for the holidays, pretty please ?” Her hands slide up my thighs, sending jolts of electricity through me.

“Emma,” I growl, the sound pulling from deep within me as she peels my joggers down, releasing my cock. Her back straightens, and she looks up at me, silently asking for permission.

“I need you so fucking bad,” she whispers. Her tongue flicks across my tip, and my eyes slam shut. “May I have you?”

I study her, brushing my thumb against her cheeks. A world of emotions mixes with the silent conversation we share. This woman is my everything, and I knew that the first night we were together. Denying her means denying us the possibility of true happiness, but more importantly, love.

“I've been yours since July,” I admit, hardly able to contain the rush of sensations that flood me.

“I've been yours, too,” she says.

The confession is music to my fucking ears.

Emma stands, capturing my mouth again. We stumble backward to the bed until my ass presses against the mattress. We climb onto the bed and Emma takes me into her greedy mouth. She licks up and down my shaft with her tongue, moving slowly like she's memorizing every vein.

“Fuck,” I hiss out, the word escapes like a prayer.

The early morning sunlight makes the room hazy, and I almost pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming. Her hands trail up my stomach and under my hoodie as she tweaks one of my nipples.

“Mm.” She strokes me long and slow with her hand. “So much pre-cum.”

She licks the cum that pooled on my dick. “I love the way you taste.”

I run my fingers through her hair, gripping it tightly as she returns her mouth to me. She bobs up and down, nearly choking, trying to take me all in.

“Come here,” I whisper, and Emma defiantly takes me to the back of her throat before doing as I ask. She lays on the pillow beside me, and I roll onto my side, fully facing her.

My hand trails down her body, fingers grazing her smooth skin as I slide into her panties. Her breathing grows ragged as her beautiful brown eyes lock onto mine. A silent agreement passes between us—a commitment.

For how long? I don't know. It's something I'll think about later.

“So fucking wet for me,” I murmur, feeling the heat radiate from her. We both know she wants and desperately needs it.

“Always,” she mutters, her breath quickening as I gently tap my fingers against her clit. She pants, arching her back and pressing her pussy upward, seeking more of the pleasure she craves.

“There are rules, Emma. If you’re mine, you’re mine. I don't know how to share,” I say, my voice low and intense.

“Agreed,” she whispers, her voice barely above a breath as she removes her glasses.

I swirl my fingers in tight circles around her sensitive nub, a rhythm that matches her eagerness.

“We should keep this to ourselves. It will be easier when you leave,” I say, hoping she understands the weight of my words. If she wants and needs an out, I will give her one.

“I don't know what the future holds,” she says.

“I know. Also, we have to be careful in front of Colby.”

“Of course,” she replies, her tone shifting slightly, a hint of seriousness threading through her words. “Being with me also comes with consequences, Hudson. I don’t want that to scare you, but we'll be watched, and privacy doesn't ex?—”

“I know what I'm getting myself into. It’s us against the world, Emma. Me and you. We can handle anything together.” The declaration hangs in the air; a magnetic force intertwines us.

“Do you promise?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, tinged with vulnerability.

“Until my last fucking breath,” I tell her.

She pulls me back to her mouth, but my lips hover above hers. We're frozen in time, and the world around us fades into a distant memory.

“I'm falling in love with you, Hudson,” she whispers, her breath warm against my skin.

“Oh, Emma,” I barely say, pulling back so I can meet her eyes. She smiles as if she already knows the secret I've kept. My heart beats harder in my chest, resonating with the truth of the situation.

We're falling in love.

“Me too,” I admit, a secret only we share. Our lips dance together slowly, a gentle exploration that feels electrifying and tender. I’m convinced she has me under her spell. Each brush of her tongue against mine nearly takes me under.

I kiss along her jaw and neck, peeling up her tank top with a gentle tug. My lips travel down her flat stomach, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake as I remove the tiny shorts from her body.

“No panties,” I murmur, not surprised by the revelation.

“I hardly ever wear them,” she admits, a playful glint in her eyes. It's a fact I file away for later as a smirk slides over my lips. I move between her legs and continue my trail of kisses to her pretty little pussy. With my tongue, I slowly part her, savoring the taste of her and the intoxicating scent of her arousal.

She sighs as I apply more pressure, flicking my tongue over her sensitive clit. Her fingers tangle in my hair, urging me closer. She pushes me against her, lost in the sensation as she rides against the scruff on my chin. And while I want her to fuck my face, not yet.

For once, Emma isn't in control. I am.

I shake my head, pulling back just a bit and sucking her hard, reveling in the sounds of her pleasure. “Patience, or I'll edge you all fucking day,” I warn, my voice low and teasing, as I slowly slide a finger inside her tight cunt.

Long moans escape her lips, a melody of desire that only encourages me to continue.

Emma writhes under me, responding to my touch, and I curl my finger, teasingly tickling her G-spot. I fucking love watching her body arch in response to the growing waves of pleasure building within her.

“Every time I touch myself, I think of you,” she admits, her voice trembling with vulnerability. “Of being with you again. Just like this.”

I kiss the softness of her inner thighs, savoring the silky warmth of her skin against my lips. “So, I'm your fantasy?” I ask teasingly, my breath hot against her sensitive flesh.

“Yes.” She sucks in a sharp breath as I slide two fingers inside her. She clenches around me like a vice, eager and responsive. Not to mention greedy.

“You're just in luck, sweetheart. Because you're mine, too.” A surge of possessiveness takes over.

She smiles at me, her eyes shining with longing. “I need you inside me.”

I can’t wait—I won’t wait. The urgency coursing through me is primal.

I slide off the bed, quickly remove my hoodie, and move closer to her. My cock waits, poised at her wet entrance, and I press my lips against hers for a brief, searing kiss before continuing.

“It's only been you since you,” she whispers, her breath hitching in anticipation. Before me, it was her ex, no one else.

Knowing she waited for me, has me slamming deep inside her. She adjusts her body, widening her hips, wanting to take more of me in. Our ends meet and the world around me blurs. Stars explode behind my eyelids, and my head swims as we become one again. I groan, overwhelmed by the feeling that Emma is my home, the only woman I’ve ever truly belonged to.

“My other half,” she says as she can read my mind. Her voice is heavy with emotion as she rocks in rhythm with me. I go slow and hard, savoring every moment, sucking and nibbling on her neck, tasting the salt of her skin. Her moans grow louder, guttural, echoing in the space between us.

Being with her is an out-of-body experience that transcends time and space. It’s an electric and eternal connection that pulses with every heartbeat, weaving our souls together in a mosaic of desire. I grunt, maintaining my rhythm, wanting her to feel how deep I’m inside her. I want her to know who she belongs to in every step she takes tomorrow.

“I'm so...” Her voice is barely audible, a breathy whisper lost in the haze of our movements. The air around us is thick with want, charged with desperate energy as we become something more than ourselves—animalistic, driven by an unquenchable thirst for pleasure as we chase our high. I will never, ever be able to get enough of her.

I tug on her earlobe with my teeth, then suck on it before I whisper, “Come for me, pretty girl. Come around my cock that's filling you so goddamn full right now.”

As if I snapped my fingers, she surrenders to the wave of her orgasm, her body quaking with intensity.

Emma does exactly what I demanded, so I give her what she craves.

“Good girl,” I growl as I gently squeeze her throat. I don’t recognize the sounds that escape from her, but they’re raw and primal. Her nails dig into my back, leaving trails of fire and satisfaction along my skin.

“Keep fucking me,” she cries out, her voice a desperate plea filled with urgency. “Claim me, Hudson. Prove I'm really yours.”

So, I do.