Roughing It

17. Hudson

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

hudson

DAY FIFTEEN

I’m jolted awake by a whimper. Blakely jerks in her sleep, pained noises disturbing the early morning peace.

“Blakely, wake up. It’s a dream.” I brush the hair from her face and feather kisses over her forehead and cheeks.

“Bear?”

“Yeah, Spitfire. I’m here.” I spoon my body around hers, pressing as much skin to skin as I can. “Want to talk?”

“Not yet. Can you hold me?”

“Always, baby. Always.”

It isn’t long before she drifts back to sleep, the stress on her face melting away. I stay awake, studying her, soaking in as much of her as I can. Eventually, light filters in through the windows, and the thin rays highlight her delicate features. I like this version of her, the makeup-free, less flawless, but no less perfect version.

During her live a couple of mornings ago, she giggled and swooned over the sunrise. I can’t help but compare that to our second early morning hike, the one she kept for herself. She was so different in those two moments. I wish she’d trust herself, her true self. Let the people who follow her see that other side of her—the softer, real side she shows me.

She lets out a light snore, and I chuckle. Even in her sleep, she has to make noise. So damn loud.

When you’re alone with someone, day in and out, it warps things. I’ve had every meal, every shower, every shit with Blakely feet away. In that sense, two weeks is more like two months. So it’s hard to believe I’ve only known her for fifteen days. And even harder to believe I only have fifteen days left with her.

I brush my thumb over her lips, and she stirs but doesn’t wake. “You’re maddeningly beautiful. You know that, though, don’t you? Got me doing things I swore I’d never do again, and I don’t just mean your damn socials.” I bury my nose in her hair and inhale.

With a sigh, I leave her to sleep and decide to take a quick shower. I step into the old-fashioned clawfoot tub, yank the shower curtain closed, and adjust the tap until the water runs warm. As it streams over me, memories of last night flash in my mind—Blakely beneath me, hair splayed out on the pillows, face flushed, lips parted in pleasure. Using my soapy hand, I grip my cock. That woman. The effect she has on me is ridiculous. I move my fist up and down, twisting at the head and squeezing.

I’m falling into a steady rhythm when the shower curtain opens and a naked Blakely stands before me. “Let me help you with that, Bear.” She smiles and steps into the large tub behind me.

I groan, watching her slender fingers reach around my waist and glide over my cock. “Did you just wake up?”

“I might’ve been awake when you were saying nice things about me in bed this morning.”

“You little sneak.” I spin and capture her lips in mine.

She draws back, her hand still ghosting over my cock. “I’m very naughty. What are you going to do about it?”

“Blakely, you’ve had?—”

She pulls my hand to her ass and places it against her skin. “I need to be punished.”

I worry she’s using this as a bandaid, but how do I say no when my Spitfire wants to play? Nibbling on her jaw, as my other hand glides up her body to settle on her throat, I murmur, “Are you sure you want this?”

“Don’t make me ask again, Hudson.”

Giving her neck a gentle squeeze, I say, “Lean over and grab the edge of the tub. Brace yourself. Do you understand?”

A rosy hue creeps up her cheeks, and she nods at me.

As she turns away, I stop her. “If you want this to end, what do you say?”

“Stop or red.”

“Atta girl.”

She jumps when I lightly smack her ass. “I wasn’t ready!”

“Consider that a warmup.”

Blakely bends at the waist and grasps the edges of the bathtub, offering me an incredibly tempting view. I adjust the spray of the water to keep us from getting cold, turning back just in time to catch her wiggling her heart-shaped ass. Such a brat.

I walk my fingers down her spine, loving how she arches into my touch. When I reach her ass, I palm it, give it a gentle squeeze. A firm slap cracks over the sound of the shower. Blakely makes a noise, something between a moan and a yelp, and rocks toward me .

“How do you feel?” I ask as I trace small, soothing circles over the pink mark.

She swallows. “I haven’t learned my lesson yet.”

Smirking, I repeat my actions: palm, squeeze, spank. Another moan fills the room and Blakely’s hips jerk. Soothe, palm, squeeze, spank .

Then again. And again. Until she’s panting.

“And now?” Her ass glows a rosy red.

“M-make it an even ten,” she stutters.

God, she’s perfect. Soothe. Palm. Squeeze. Spank .

The knuckles of her hands are white from the vice-like grip she has on the side of the tub, and her legs tremble. Dropping to my knees behind her, I sweep my lips over her tender skin. Goosebumps erupt on her flesh, and she lets out a strangled whine and pushes back towards me, seeking more. I oblige her, my tongue grazing her pussy while my fingers skim between her thighs.

“Always so eager,” I whisper as I stand over her. Holding her hips, my cock brushes against her wet heat. I tease along her slit until I bump against her clit, and it takes all my willpower not to bury myself in her right then.

When I step back, my body aches to respond to the desperate groan Blakely makes at the loss of contact. Being with her is like being drunk in the best way: all heady buzz, pleasant warmth, and loss of inhibition.

I grab the adjustable shower head and tug it toward us, spraying her back with the warm water. Then I fiddle with the heat, dropping it by a few degrees, before positioning the spray over the mark I left on her ass.

I drizzle the cooling water against her skin for a moment more until the red fades to pink, and then I change the temperature back to normal. Blakely’s arms shake. Her muscles and joints must burn from the exertion of staying bent over for so long, but she holds firm.

Strong. Stubborn. Spirited.

There’s a reason I call her Spitfire.

“Lay on your back and spread your legs.”

Blakely does as I direct without question, though she quietly moans as she moves. Her quick compliance fuels the depth of my want for her. It’s not that I have to have control to get off, but the trust it takes for someone to let you lead them to their pleasure is a feeling you can’t replicate. I don’t doubt things would be fucking amazing without any kind of play, but this adds another layer for me. And given the look on her face, it does for Blakely, too.

She rests her head against the basin of the bathtub and splays her legs over the sides. My gaze fixates on the way she’s spread before me. I stroke myself, committing this moment to memory—her desire-filled eyes, her open mouth, her panting chest, her small patch of curls, her silken lips. Fucking perfection. I hold the shower head and position it so the stream hits her on that sweet button between her legs, making her squirm.

“Stop moving.”

She freezes and gazes up at me, hungry eyes burning for me, for her release. Fuck, I’d give her the moon if she asked.

“Only good girls get to move. Naughty girls have to stay still until their punishment is over. Understand?”

She licks her lips and nods. “Yes, I understand.” Her voice is breathy, and her muscles constrict as the water pulses over her clit and core.

Locking the shower head back into its holder, I kneel between her splayed legs. I seize her hips and hoist her towards my mouth before placing a kiss on her pubic bone and running my nose down her folds. Nothing but a feather-light caress.

She wriggles, but I give her thigh a sharp nip before tightening my grip. “I said no moving.”

“I don’t think I can hold still.”

“Oh, you can. If you want to come, you’ll stay still until I tell you to move.”

“Ye-yes, sir.”

Fuck. The sir. Gritting my teeth, I groan. Sliding one arm beneath her ass to steady her, I move my free hand until I can slip a finger into her pussy. The way she bites her lip, fighting to keep from bucking against my hand, has me praising her.

“So perfect, Blakely. Look at you. All sass and sex and sweetness.” On the last word, I lick around her clit, my tongue lapping up every drop she gives me.

Deeper, I search inside her, hunting for that little spot that will make her break. I want to leave her shattered. To be the one who wrecks her and the one who gathers all those fragments and puts her back together.

She squeezes her eyes shut and makes noises that would have neighbors calling the cops. Good thing we don’t have any out here.

It’s time to up the ante. I lift her higher, teasing her clit before closing my lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and sucking.

“Hudson, I…”

Lifting my head, I grin. “I know, but you’re still being punished, remember?” My tongue delves into her pussy, searching out the wetness building there. Her thighs twitch, and her walls tighten, so I pull back, removing my fingers and mouth from her altogether.

“No! Hudson! Please, please!”

“Have you learned your lesson, naughty girl? No more tricking me?”

“Yes! Fuck! I’ve learned my lesson. Please make me come! ”

At her pleading, I lower my mouth to her pussy, licking and loving her. Two fingers plunge into her warmth, curling in a come hither motion. I love the way she feels, the way she tastes, the fucking delicious noises she makes while at my mercy. I raise my head long enough to give her permission to move.

She clasps my head, fingers clutching my hair, legs coming off the sides of the tub and locking around my neck. She bucks towards my mouth, urging my fingers and tongue to go deeper inside her.

It’s one of the things I adore most about her. She’s no passive bystander waiting for satisfaction. No, she knows what she wants. And now, released from our game, she tells me what she needs.

“Harder, yes! Right there!”

All the built-up tension in her body explodes in my mouth, and I work her through her climax, prolonging her release as I continue to suck and roll her clit. She shudders and wails, writhing and mewling as she comes down from the high of her orgasm. Ignoring my screaming knees, I pry her thighs from the sides of my head and lift her, guiding her onto my aching cock.

Everything about this moment—the lingering taste of her on my tongue, the pulse of her cunt around my cock, the weight of her in my lap, the press of her skin against mine—overwhelms me.

My head falls back at the sensation of her hot pussy clenching around me. She rocks her hips, pulling me deeper and deeper until we’re flush and as close as two people can be. Her eyes lock on mine, and a fresh round of longing crashes over me as she drops a hand between us, chasing another climax.

She’s a goddess, water running in rivulets along her skin, face flushed in delight, hair plastered to her head in dripping tendrils. I can’t tear my eyes away from her. Each undulation of her shapely body sends shivers through me.

She comes on my cock. The intense surge of her orgasm and the contraction of her innermost muscles sends me over moments later. Her head falls onto my shoulder, and her breath, ragged and gasping, tickles my skin. We sit, clinging to each other under the falling water, mini spasms rippling through our still-joined bodies.

“If I’d known it would be like this, I’d have kissed you the moment we met.” Instead of wasting all those days fighting the pull between us.

She purrs out a laugh. “Who says I’d have let you?”

I press my mouth to her temple and ease my cock out of her before getting us both to our feet. Blakely falls forward, her legs weak, so I hold her against my body, encouraging her to lean on me for support. Without speaking, I grab her shampoo, the same damn shampoo we fought over not so long ago, and squirt a dollop into my hands. I massage her scalp, loving how she melts into my touch. When I finish, she mirrors my actions, scrubbing my head and hair. I hum, amazed at this different kind of closeness, somehow more intimate than anything else we’ve done.

As the last of the suds rinse away, Blakely wraps me in her arms, drawing me forward so my forehead rests against hers. “That was amazing, Bear. I can’t believe I’m here with you.”

“You’re amazing.” I take her chin and lift her face towards mine. “Before that goes to your head, get out of the shower, and let’s start our day.” I turn off the water, wrap her in a towel, and give her ass a slight swat.

“Ouch! That still stings from earlier!” She rubs her cheek and pouts at me.

“Go get dressed, and I’ll make coffee. You’re no good to me without it.” She shoots me a withering glare, and I burst out laughing. Shit, I’m addicted to pleasing and teasing her.

Once we’re dressed, we set out. The hike is a fair distance down the mountain, but it’s picturesque, with the green of the pines mixing with the golds of the birch and aspen trees. Sunshine dapples the ground through the leaves, and Blakely’s fingers twine with mine. I’m fucking happy.

I stop when we reach a thicket of Pi?on pines, chokecherries, and other shrubs. It’s all a part of attempting to teach Blakely how to recognize safe and poisonous plants.

“I’m doing a quick live spot. In or out?”

“No kissing.”

“I’ll keep my mouth to myself, I promise. But what about groping?” She squeezes my bicep, trailing her fingers over the muscle.

“No groping either… at least not where the camera can see.”

Blakely hugs and kisses me, her tongue exploring the depths of my mouth.

I break the kiss with a swear. “Fuck, if you don’t stop that, you won’t be doing your livestream.”

She brushes a finger against her lips and smiles. Then cracks her neck and rolls her shoulders, flipping that switch that transforms her into Blakely Bradshaw .

“Good morning, BBs! I hope you enjoyed the sunrise hike we took you on yesterday. If you couldn’t join us, you can check out my recent posts. It’s truly an amazing sight! I’ve been here with Hudson for fifteen days and—I’m really excited about this—today, he’s teaching me about foraging. Pretty cool, right?”

Turning to me, she asks, “What plants can we find around here?” Then she pans her camera toward the surrounding trees.

“This time of year, you can forage for chokecherries, elderberries, currants, Pi?on pine nuts, rose hips, dandelion greens, and purslane. Mushrooms are another option, but you have to be extra cautious when dealing with them. I wouldn’t recommend it until you’re more comfortable foraging.”

Blakely stares at me like I’m speaking another language—or the way I stare at her when she talks about insights and analytics.

“And I can find all these things here?” She gestures around us, talking to me, but into the camera.

“We’ll have to hike a bit to find everything I mentioned.”

She nods, then goes into a long-winded advertisement for her hiking boots—the blister-giving ones we finally broke in. Shaking my head, I wander towards a cluster of chokecherries. The product placement, the fake enthusiasm. I don’t get it. She was two seconds away from throwing those boots at my head two weeks ago.

I agreed to lean in, but seeing how easily she swaps between the woman I care for and this other person gives me pause. Is this thing between us any different? Or am I just another pair of hiking boots to her?

The hurt in Blakely’s eyes when she thought I was ashamed of our relationship was real. The way she kisses me is fucking real, too. I run one hand down my face. I need to get myself together.

“What are these?” Blakely startles me, and she laughs when I jerk. “Sorry, Bear. I thought you had super hearing.”

“Situational awareness, and normally I do.” But being around you makes me an idiot.

“So, what are these pretty berries?”

“Chokecherries.”

She makes big eyes at her phone. “That’s an ominous name.”

“They’re mostly used in jams or jellies. You can eat them raw, but?—”

Before I can warn her, she’s popped one into her mouth.

“That’s disgusting!” Her lips curl up, and she guzzles water. I bet she’d scrape her tongue if she weren’t on camera.

I press my lips in an attempt to hide my grin. “They’re very tart.”

“Show me something else,” she grumbles.

We walk further down the mountain, Blakely chatting to her followers the whole time. When I come to a stop, she runs into my back. I sigh and look to the sky. One day, I’ll get her head out of that phone.

I guide her toward a wide shrub. “These are elderberries. You can use them in syrups, wines, and jellies.”

“Wine?” Blakely wiggles her eyebrows at me and then grins at the camera. “Did you hear that, BBs? Wild wine! Right here at your fingertips.”

“Not exactly,” I mutter. “You have to be careful.”

I’m trying to clarify when she says, “Hudson, one of our viewers—shout out to SmileyMiley—wants to know: do any of these plants have medicinal properties?”

She thrusts the phone into my face, and I freeze. All I manage to do is nod. This is way easier when I pretend it’s just her I’m talking to.

Blakely elbows me in the ribs and mouths, “ Say something.”

“Yes.”

The soft slap of her hand hitting her forehead cues me to say more.

“Um, elderberries have immune-boosting properties. There’s an old local legend about them.”

“Oh?” Her turquoise eyes glitter. “Tell me, please.”

“It’s a long story…”

“BBs, send hearts if you want to hear this!” The screen fills with floating hearts, clouding out the reflection of my bemused face.

Guess it’s story time.

“When we first moved here, my mom learned everything she could about Trail Creek and the surrounding areas, including the local tales. Her favorites are the one about two stars you can wish on and the one about how a man saved his entire village.”

Blakely drops onto a small stump and drags me to the ground beside her. “We love a hero.”

I can’t believe I’m telling this story to thousands of strangers online. If Bo and Gray find out about this, I’ll never live it down. But then I look at Blakely and her excitement, and dammit, I want her to keep looking at me like I’m something special.

My ears burn, and I frown at the camera. “Um, I may not get all the details right.”

Blakely beams at me, her dazzling smile the only carrot I need.

“There once lived a village of warriors. They built their home in the foothills of the mountains and thanked the gods for granting them such a perfect place to live.”

My eyes cut to the phone. How many people are watching this? Shit. Can’t think about that.

My voice shakes, but I push on. “Because the land was so fertile, the air and water so clean, others tried to take it away. So, as a gift for their thanks and devotion, the gods granted the villagers the ability to transform with the full moon.”

“Like werewolves?”

“Yes, but more powerful and dangerous. Over time, the people stopped needing to transform to access their strength. They’d become incredibly strong. So strong they rivaled the gods. The many attacks they’d fought off led to them becoming not only fierce fighters but also clever and cunning.”

I swipe my sweaty palms on my jeans before forging ahead. “As time passed, the village thrived, each generation growing stronger and smarter than the one before. At the peak of their prosperity, the elders claimed they would one day surpass the gods in strength and wisdom. Of course, this made the gods angry and jealous. The gods, afraid of being conquered, sent a plague that struck down half the village.”

Blakely’s murmured, “Oh no,” tugs a half smile to my lips.

“Despite their abilities, knowledge, and might, nothing the villagers did helped those infected. They tried every herb, every remedy. The leader’s wife was among the sick, and each day, his heart ached at her pain. He knew they couldn’t go on with so many ill and growing worse, so one chilly evening, he left. His mission: to journey to the peak of the highest mountain, where the gods lived, and do whatever was necessary to lift the curse and heal his people.”

I glance at Blakely. She’s hanging on every word, eyeing me like I’m the honey on a sea-salt croissant. Her phone is still in her hand, but she’s focused on me. Some of the tension in my stomach loosens.

Taking a deep breath, I go on. “There was no path up the mountain, and the trek was treacherous. The leader encountered fierce animals, unrelenting weather, and traps meant to keep him from reaching the peak. Finally, after days of travel, he reached the apex of the tallest mountain and the lair of the gods. They were so impressed by his devotion and drive that they made him a deal—his people’s extraordinary strength and powers in exchange for the ability to heal everyone who was sick.”

Even though I was an adult when we moved to Trail Creek, my mom made sure I knew the local legends for my future children. Something I always rolled my eyes about. But right now, with Blakely listening to me weave this tale, it’s not so farfetched to imagine whispering this to a beautiful daughter with green eyes, honey-blonde waves, and freckles on her cheeks.

“Though the leader impressed the gods, they still feared him, which is why they made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. He agreed without hesitation. Without regret, he traded away his birthright—his supernatural strength. And in return, they gave him a single seed.”

“One? How’s that?—”

“Shh, let me finish.” I squeeze her thigh and leave my hand there, out of view of the camera. I may be telling this story where everyone can hear, but they aren’t stealing any more private moments from us.

“The leader ran to his village as quickly as he could and planted the seed, tending the small bush that sprang up overnight. Tirelessly, he watched it grow until it bore branches and branches of berries.”

“Did it heal them?” she asks.

“For days, they watched the berries turn a deep purple and ripen. Meanwhile, the sick faded away to almost nothing. During this time, the leader, holding his wife’s limp hand, realized they couldn’t wait any longer. Gathering as many healthy villagers as he could, he called them to harvest the berries and cook them down into a syrup to ensure they’d have enough for everyone. ”

Blakely’s hand finds mine, and she laces our fingers together. I glance at the phone and power through to the end. Can’t leave my girl wanting.

“From home to home, they traveled, giving the healing syrup to those in need, until finally, he arrived at his house. His wife was all but gone, so weak she couldn’t even open her mouth to drink from the cup that held the medicine. In his desperation, he poured the syrup into his mouth and then, pressing his lips to hers, passed the power of the fruit to her through his kiss.”

“Hudson, did it heal her?”

I cut my eyes to her watery ones and give her a small smile. “Yes, impatient. It healed her, and they lived many happy years together, settling the town of Trail Creek and spreading the healing power of elderberries, too.”

“What a beautiful story,” she whispers. She leans toward me, her mouth open, ready to kiss me, the live all but forgotten.

Hating myself for not taking the kiss she’s offering, I clear my throat. “Blakely?”

“Huh?” She blinks, then blushes and scrambles to her feet, positioning her phone to capture her flushed face. “BBs, did you hear that story? Are your hearts as full as mine right now? I. Am. Swooning. What a tale! And what a plant.”

Like a loyal dog, I trot after her, watching as she zooms in on the berries and slips the glossy leaves between her fingers. She chats a little longer, then signs off. As soon as she ends the live, her legs are around my waist, and her mouth is on mine.

I almost topple over from the force but manage to keep us standing. Tightening my hands on her hips, I take control of the kiss, driving my tongue between her lips. She rocks her hips, and I have the urge to pin her to the ground and take her on a bed of fallen pine needles. But I settle for pressing her curvy body to mine and running my hands over her.

Blakely and I lose ourselves here in the forest, kissing, grinding, licking until I have to stop. I’m not hiking back to the cabin in pants soaked in cum.

When I lower her to the ground, she sways, her eyes still closed, lips bee stung and so fuckable. Fifteen more days with her is nowhere near enough.

I rest my chin on the top of her head. “Drink some more water. We’ve got a ways to go.”

She cocks her head to the side. “Really?”

“Yep.”

With a smile and a roll of her eyes, Blakely picks up her things and puts her phone away in her pack. Once we’re rehydrated, I lead us down the mountain.

“While we walk, tell me what you see that could help you navigate back here alone.”

“What do you mean?”

“Directions have been a challenge for you. So I thought we’d try your location-based idea.”

Her pretty eyes narrow. And I’m ready for her to rain hellfire down on me, but she surprises me by blowing a huff of air out of her nose and shrugging. “Give me an example of what you’re talking about.”

“See those trees?”

“Hudson, there are four billion trees.” Blakely waves her hands, gesturing in a circle.

I roll my eyes and grab her flailing hands, guiding the tips of her fingers where I want her to look. “Those two are wound around each other. It’s easy to remember and identify and can help you place your location.”

She studies the entwined trees and, with a grin, nudges me. “Did you point those trees out to help me navigate or because you’re secretly a hopeless romantic? Because after that story, I’m leaning towards you being a big, mushy romantic.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I say as I pull her into my arms and kiss the side of her neck.

“Yeah, ridiculously amazing. Okay, show me how to find more wild food.”

Some days, I wonder what it’d be like if Blakely was here without the strings. Would this be our life? Hiking in the forest, foraging for food, sitting on the porch swing until the night comes alive?

She snaps a selfie of us—for her use only—and I remember that without those strings, I never would’ve met her. A dart of ice zaps my heart. I might’ve gone my entire life without this dazzling, exhausting, wonderful, annoying woman.

I hook an arm around her waist as we hike together, Blakely pointing out her markers along the way. Most of them are absurd. A rock that looks like a high heel, a faded warning sign, a stump that would make a great seat, a super cute bush—her words, not mine—and a tree that’s “probably haunted.” So long as it works for her, that’s all that matters.

It’s also cute as fuck. And I’m a smitten bastard.

What the hell am I going to do when she’s gone?