Roughing It

24. Blakely

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

blakely

DAY TWENTY-FIVE

Kirk blanches when he sees me. “Are you okay? You look rough.”

“Gee, just what everyone wants to hear,” I snark. And even though I’ve gotten more comfortable with my natural face, I still run my fingers through my hair, attempting to tame the snarls.

He has the decency to look ashamed. “Sorry. I mean, you don’t seem to be feeling well.”

“Eating poisonous berries will do that.” A poisonous mother will also take it out of you.

Kirk’s smooth forehead wrinkles and his eyes widen. “What?”

I wave my hand. “I ate a handful of raw elderberries. Pro-tip, they have to be cooked.”

“Are you okay? Do I need to get an ambulance out there?”

“I’m fine. Hudson took care of me.”

From behind me, Hudson snorts and grumbles. “Never should have happened .”

My eyes roll of their own accord. That man carries way too much guilt and responsibility for everyone else’s actions. I don’t blame him. At all.

“So besides your treatise on how stunning I look, why did you call?”

“Your mother posted again. I wasn’t sure if you blocked her or knew.”

In a blink, Hudson has my phone in his hand, a snarl on his lips. “Why would you tell her? Are you trying to upset her? Is this some sort of fucking game?”

The blood drains from Kirk’s face, and he stammers. “N-no. I’m ch-checking on her.”

Hudson huffs and I steal the phone before he says anything else. “Kirk, it’s okay. Hudson is… protective. He and my mother spoke a couple of days ago.”

“What? Brandee called you? How’d she get your number?” Rationally, I know Kirk would never sell me out to my mother, but his genuine surprise eases an ounce of the tension I’m holding.

“I’ve been wondering that myself.” Before, her attempts at blackmail were through my social platforms, never on my private number. “Maybe someone in the office?”

Kirk pinches his lips together and taps furiously on his tablet. “I’ll find out, and when I do, I’ll take care of the problem. BB, I’m sorry.” A pained expression settles on his face. “I really called to check on you. To see if you knew about the latest post. Not to hurt you. Or make things worse.”

“It’s okay, Kirk. I’m still deciding how to handle it. It’s worse than it’s ever been. She’s demanding more money, reaching out in new ways, being aggressive in her posts.” I swallow the knot in my throat. “Thanks for the heads up. I’ll go check it out.”

“BB, I’m not sure?—”

“No, I need to see it for myself. To make a choice.” About so many things.

With an understanding nod, Kirk says, “Let me know if you need me. Legal help. To talk. Whatever.”

Hudson’s large frame leans against mine, his face crowding into the camera’s view. “She’s got support here, too, but thanks.” He hits the end call button and pulls me into his arms. “You sure about this?”

I twist my fingers in the soft flannel of his shirt, my mind racing through the multitude of possibilities waiting for me. If Kirk felt the need to call, it’s not good. But my need for answers outweighs the fear.

On my nod, Hudson shifts me so I’m sitting in his lap, my head cradled against his shoulder. “Open it, baby. I’m here.”

As soon as I see the post, I wish I could turn back time. To thirty seconds ago, before I looked. To twenty years ago, before I kept a diary. Or, hell, to thirty-three years ago, before I was born. Any of those will work.

Sadly, time travel is a finicky bitch. What with not existing and all.

My stomach churns, and invisible ants crawl along my skin. It’s a video. In it, my mother, looking strung out and haggard, holds a worn spiral notebook. Doodles of hearts, flowers, butterflies, and bees decorate the faded cover.

“This is for all y’all thinking Blakely Bradshaw is so aspirational.”

Her savage smile widens as she flips through the pages. Then she reads.

“ I got sent home from school today. The nurse says I need to shower more because there’ve been complaints from my classmates. Like I don’t wish I could bathe regularly. Of course, mom didn’t care. She didn’t even pick me up. Instead, she told me to find my own way home.” My mother pauses here, glaring into the camera. “Such a spoiled brat. As if I had time to come get her ass from school.”

Huffing, she reads more. “ I tried to shower in the trailer, but Floyd is here, and I don’t want to chance it.” Her eyes roll. “Uppity little cow. My men never wanted her.”

I can’t watch anymore—mortification, grief, and the cramps from yesterday churn in my stomach. Muffling a whimper, I dart to the bathroom, my phone clattering onto the wood floor.

Dry heaves wrack my body. Not from the berries. No. This is pure Brandee. I wear myself out between tears and retching. A cool cloth eases my aching eyes and burning cheeks. A rough palm smooths back my hair before nimble fingers work it into a loose braid.

Hudson.

His familiar scent of pine trees, warm earth, and spice calm my frayed nerves. “Look, I’m not telling you what to do. But I mean it when I say these videos and posts—as shitty as they are—don’t reflect poorly on you.”

A weak snort is my reply. What does he mean they don’t reflect poorly on me? I’ve built an entire brand on a lifestyle and persona of luxury, indulgence, and fun. My followers know me for my beauty and clothing recommendations. Where to find the hottest Austin night spots, how to live the perfect millennial life. Not as the poor girl who was so smelly the school sent her home.

“Spitfire.”

How do I spin this? How do I bounce back? Is being out here reinforcing her story?

“Blakely. ”

Should I go back to Austin and get with Kirk? Try to do damage control showing me back in my usual haunts?

“Blake Lee!” Hudson’s voice echoes off the bathroom walls, snapping me from my spiral.

“Don’t call me that!” I lash out with my reply before regret washes over me. He didn’t mean it as a dig. He’s not like Brandee.

A fresh round of tears well in my eyes, but I squeeze them shut before they fall.

“Nope. Open them.” I squint one eye at him. “Didn’t call you that to hurt you. Just needed your attention. You’re spiraling.” He scoops me up and carries me to the bed. ”It’s time for you to decide if you’re ashamed of your past or just sad.”

“W-what?”

“Are you ashamed of who you were or sad about the life you had to overcome?” When I don’t answer, he kisses me, lips featherlight on mine. “You didn’t ask, but if you did, my advice would be to face the bad head-on and acknowledge how far you’ve come. Because, baby, you’ve come a long fucking way.”

“I don’t…” I drop my head and kiss his collarbone. “Thank you.”

He buries his nose in my hair. “Whatever you decide. I’m here.”

For the next five days .

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. When I say I’m here, I mean it. Today, tomorrow, thirty days from now. You have me.”

“Hudson, I—” I stop myself from spilling my biggest truth all over him.

“Come on, let’s feed you.”

I nod, but in my head, I’m screaming, I love you .

DAY TWENTY-SIX

Hudson stands with his back to me, pouring coffee into a mug. Then he turns, his eyes dropping to the half-eaten piece of toast at his feet. The toast that may have bounced off the back of his head.

“Need something, Blakely?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I cut my eyes to the ceiling, playing innocent.

He eats up the space between us in three long strides. “Are you desperate for my attention?”

Pouting, I bat my lashes at him. “You’re ignoring me.”

“I stepped away long enough to make a cup of coffee. I made you one, too.”

“Ooh, give me, please!” I hold my hands out, fingers wiggling towards him.

“Someone’s feeling better.”

Nodding, I sip my perfectly made coffee. I’m finally back to a hundred percent. Those fucking berries can suck my theoretical dick. And my mother can go kick rocks.

Hudson and I spent yesterday in the cabin. Him hovering like a mother hen, me trying to convince him to fuck me into the mattress and out of my head.

Sadly, I didn’t win.

“Nurse Hudson took excellent care of me.” I wink. “Even if he wouldn’t fu?—”

“Blakely.” His gruff voice has a hint of warning in it. I love pushing his buttons.

“Sorry, Daddy.”

The tips of his ears turn pink, and he grumbles. “Is Daddy a thing now?”

“You like it.” I pull him toward me so he’s standing between my thighs.

He runs a rough finger over my jaw and makes a noncommittal humming sound before kissing the top of my head.

The comfort Hudson brings settles over me like a warm blanket. Tilting my chin up, I say, “All kidding aside, thank you. No one has ever taken care of me.” And it’s true. Growing up, I took care of myself, doing the best I could. Sylvie and Buster did a lot, and Kirk does too, but no one, not one person in my life, has ever made me feel as safe and cared for as Hudson does.

The supreme unfairness of this entire situation isn’t lost on me. Why couldn’t I have met Hudson in Austin? There’d be no fear, no stress because if it didn’t work out, I’d still have everything I had before him. Our situation is a pressure cooker in comparison. What if I give up the life I know, only for things to implode a month later? What if I return to Austin and miss out on the love of my life?

“Hey, come back to me.” He pulls me to my feet and lifts my chin. When my eyes meet his, he says, “Now that you’re recovered, we’ve got a lot to do.”

My eyebrows pull towards my hairline.

“Three days. Camping.” He clears his throat. “With your time here about to end,” my heart clenches, “I want to see how far you’ve come.”

“What, like a test?” I squeak. Anxiety and inadequacy pulse through my system. Show what I’ve learned? Three days? My time here ending…

Shaking my head, I inhale and lick my lips. “I, um, made a decision.”

Hudson cocks his head. “Oh?”

“About my mom.”

His shoulders drop, and my stomach lurches. He thought I meant about us. But Hudson, being Hudson, doesn’t say anything. He simply raises an eyebrow at me .

“I’m going to deal with the current posts in a live, and then I’m blocking her.”

Hudson stares but doesn’t speak.

“I’m also addressing how my past helped make me who I am. And that I’m not,” my words falter, belying what I’m saying, “embarrassed of who I was.”

“Good for you, baby.” He brushes a knuckle against my cheek. “Why don’t you knock that out while I load the Jeep.”

“Actually…” My teeth tug at my bottom lip. “Would you sit with me? I could use your strength.”

Warmth softens his eyes. “Of course, I’ll sit with you, baby. But you don’t need my strength. You’ve got plenty of your own.”

Lacing our fingers together, I walk to the porch swing. Steadying myself, I launch one of my apps and a livestream. The storm my mother stirred means more people than normal jump on with me.

No shields. No makeup. No fake smile. Just Blake Lee, Blakely, me. I face my audience.

“Hey there, BBs. As you know, a certain relative from my past has been very active over the past few days. Sharing pictures and private moments from my childhood. Her hope in doing this is that I’ll pay her to stop. But thanks to advice from a brilliant outdoorsman—” I pan the camera to Hudson, whose lips quirk up in a half smile. Well, it could be a smile if you squint hard and haven’t ever seen one. “I’m taking a stand.”

With a deep breath, I stare into the camera. “Before I go any further, I want to talk about a couple of things. Yes, I changed my name. Legally, I’m Blakely Bradshaw, and that’s who I’m staying. The girl in those pictures, she’s gone. Not because I’m ashamed of her but because she had to change. Evolve. Rise from the ashes. ”

I swallow, clearing my throat and fighting back tears. “The persona I’ve presented to you for the past five years, she isn’t me either. The truth lies somewhere in between the two. I carry Blake Lee’s scars and memories, Blakely’s wins and experiences. And from those two versions of myself, I’m evolving again.

“Being here, in Trail Creek, has honestly been transformative. I’ve learned what I’m capable of, who I have the potential to be. What does this mean for me moving forward?” I shrug, and Hudson squeezes my thigh. “Honestly, I’m not sure. There’s so much to think about, and I appreciate your continued support. Please don’t tag me in posts related to Brandee Shaw. I have to protect my mental health and well-being.”

When I sign off, my Bear kisses the hollow beneath my ear. “I’m real fucking proud of you, Spitfire.”

I’m proud of myself, too. I don’t have all the answers, and I know I’ll falter. But today is a step in the right direction. Now, if I could only decide if I should stay or go.

My arms and back ache. Any enthusiasm I may have felt about camping is officially gone. Not that it was particularly high to begin with. I’m not opposed to sleeping in a tent with Hudson, but I’m not jumping at three days without indoor plumbing.

We’re hiking back up the steep path towards the cliffside—the scene of berrygate. The trek was hard enough without a twenty-pound backpack.

“Bear, why are you torturing me? ”

Hudson snorts and adjusts the larger pack he’s carrying. “You’d rather be up here for three days without supplies?”

“No, I’d rather you carry all this for me.” Am I being a whiny brat? Yes. Do I care? No.

“Tell you what, Princess. I’ll carry your pack.”

I glare daggers at his back—for the nickname and the trap I smell.

“What’s the catch?”

“I’ll carry everything, then give you the Brooks treatment and make you earn your items.”

I briefly imagine him tripping over a rock. Not enough to hurt him, just enough to knock the smug smirk off his unfairly handsome face. But his footing is as sure as a billy goat’s. “No,” I huff. “I’m fine.”

“Thought so.”

Mumbling a string of creative cuss words, I trudge along. It takes another twenty minutes uphill—all we’re missing is snow—before we arrive at the cliff. The view is a worthy reward, though. It’s later in the day, almost sunset now, and the colors splaying across the sky are breathtaking.

“Why didn’t you bring me here on the first day?” Our first sunrise hike—and our second—were much closer to the cabin and not nearly as high up. Huh. Answered my question.

Hudson raises one eyebrow, then steps closer, slinging my pack off my shoulders. “I love this spot.” He wraps his arms around me, one resting on my neck, the other on my hip. “Been waiting a long time to share it with someone.”

If my knees give out, I don’t think I can be held responsible. My words are shaky when I ask, “You never brought anyone else here? Not even Pai?—”

“No one. Only you.”

Twisting, my lips crash into his in a sloppy kiss. It’s all tongues and teeth and heat. Need and lust and love rush through me, and suddenly, I’m on my back on the spongy, mossy earth. It’s déjà vu. The ground beneath me, Hudson’s heavy body over me. But he’s not tickling me, at least not on the outside. Inside, though, is going batshit crazy.

Hudson kisses my jaw, my throat, along my collarbone, tugging off my top layers as he goes. “I owe you a couple of spankings from the other day for how close you got to the edge of the cliff.” His lips travel lower, and he pauses at my chest, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking the sensitive peak through the lacy material still covering it.

In a flash, I’m on my hands and knees, peering over the cliff, the jagged rock face giving way to the tops of hundred-foot pines below. A tremor of danger prickles at the back of my neck.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”

My core throbs. Who knew I had a caretaker kink?

Large hands unlace my boots and tug them and my thick thermal leggings off. I’m shaking. From the cold? From the heat? Who the hell knows?

I’m left in my pink panties and matching bra and wool socks. This so would not pass the fit check.

All thoughts of my remaining clothing fly from my head when Hudson curls over my back and whispers, “If you want me to stop, say so. If not, Daddy’s gonna take care of you.” When I fervently nod, encouraging him, he nips my earlobe. “Count ‘em out, Spitfire.”

Hudson hooks a finger in the elastic of my panties and tugs, the soft material slipping down my thighs, stopping above my knees. Then his palm lands on my cheek with a loud smack. Heat and the sweet sting of pain bloom through me.

“I said count, Blakely. ”

“O-one.”

“Good girl.” The words slip over me like silk.

The fast crack of skin on skin has me mewling out. “Two!”

“So fucking good. Three more.”

I whimper, trying to push into his touch and pull away.

“Nope, can’t go forward. Too close to the edge. Which is what got you here in the first place.”

“I thought calling you Dad—” Spank number three lands, cutting off my tease with a whimper. My pussy clenches around nothing, and my nipples ache. “Th-three.”

Four and five come in quick succession, and no sooner than I count them does Hudson soothe away the sting, rubbing soft circles and kissing the warmth blossoming across my ass.

“Fuck. Need to taste you. Do you want that, Blakely? Do you want me to fuck you with my tongue until you’re putty in my hands?”

“Yes. Yes, please. Yes.” I chant.

Hudson buries his face into my pussy from behind, one arm locking around my thighs. The other snakes between my breasts, pulling the cups of my bra down, and toys with my nipples. He teases me this way, his licks shallow and light, and so not what I need.

Then I’m staring up at the sky, and my sore ass is on the ground. Hudson’s green eyes gleam as he plants sweet kisses on my ribcage and dips his tongue in my navel.

Goosebumps stipple my skin when he chuckles before nuzzling his mouth against my pussy. The nip he gives my clit has me clenching as two fingers plunge inside me.

His tongue strokes me—I swear he’s spelling his name—until my toes curl. Hudson adds pressure against my lower stomach, having learned it’s the fastest way to turn me into a mess, a feat he seems to prize himself on achieving.

As he licks and laps me into ecstasy-fueled oblivion, the fingers inside me twirl and inch deeper. A hot rumbling sensation against my overly sensitive clit makes me cry out.

“ Fuck.” Hudson moans. Is there anything sexier?

Warm, coiled tension builds, and my muscles tense in anticipation. A third finger slips inside me, curling and curving, searching for that perfect spot, the one designed to bring me to the pinnacle. I wriggle out of my bra and pluck and twist my nipples until they throb.

Each stroke of Hudson’s fingers.

“That’s right.”

Each suck from his mouth.

“Give it to me.”

Each rumble from his throat.

“Drench me.”

The tension builds until, like a string wound too tight, I snap.

“Show me how much you love my tongue.”

Euphoric tidal waves crash over me, and I cry out his name. He’s a god—a benevolent, orgasm giving god.

Hudson nibbles my inner thigh, easing the beard burn he left behind, then crawls over me, claiming my lips. His tongue carries the flavor of my climax.

He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against mine. “I love the way you taste. You have no idea what it does to me, seeing you come undone that way.”

I drink in his green eyes and the spray of freckles on the bridge of his nose and across his cheeks. “I love the way you make me come undone.”

He nips my bottom lip. “Feeling good?”

“Very.” With a saucy grin, I run my fingers through his hair and say, “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Oh, I’m gonna fuck the sass right out of you, Spitfire. You have ten seconds to run. When I catch you, and I will, I’ll fuck you so hard, you’ll forget your name.” As he talks, he sheds his flannel and unbuckles his belt.

I don’t move, his promise sending my nerves racing and a flood to my pussy.

“Nine, eight, seven?—”

Before he gets to six, I shed my tangled panties and make a run for it. The ground is hard, but the bed of fallen pine needles protects my sock-clad feet. I make it a mere three steps into the trees when a growl sounds behind me. I spin and am met with the gorgeous sight of Hudson moving after me, purpose, determination, and deep-seated hunger written on his handsome face.

With a small eep, I take off in a sprint, though I know there’s no way I’ll outrun him. Seconds later, the world spins as the rough bark of a spindly tree bites into my back, stealing my breath. A needy whimper slips from my lips, and I lock my legs around Hudson’s waist, loving the sensation of being trapped between his body and the tree.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to chase you through these woods and fuck you like this?” he asks. Urgency, bright and sharp, shines in his eyes as he yanks his jeans down. He brushes his cock between my legs, coating himself in my cum and desire. I’m ready to beg him to stop teasing when he thrusts, stretching and filling me the way I crave.

“You caught me.” My words are little more than broken mewls.

“Sure fucking did.” He nips my lips and grunts, fingers digging into my ass as I writhe against him. “Goddamn, you’re perfect. Soft, wet, and warm. If I spent every day of the rest of my life inside you, it wouldn’t be enough.”

His molten tongue burns along my skin, where open- mouthed kisses send scorching, sensual pulses to my stomach, back, and base. One hand keeps me anchored between him and the tree. The other grazes my hips, back, and ass, always moving in butterfly-light glances.

The pure pleasure of his touch and the bite from the bark battle, creating a perfect symphony of sensations. “So good. So fucking good, Bear.”

“That’s right, baby. Love your tight pussy. How your pretty cunt stretches around me, taking me so deep. I’m gonna make you beg me for more. You’re gonna forget everything else, except my name.”

I focus my attention on our joined bodies. The sounds of our lovemaking. The look on Hudson’s face. As he snaps his hips, driving deeper into me, I clench tight, locking and gripping him as though he’s my lifeline.

“Say it, Blakely. Say my name.”

“Hudson!” I clasp my hands onto his shoulders, using his body to propel myself up and down in rhythm with his thrusts. His hot mouth sucks and nips at my sternum, my tits, my neck. Every upward drive, every kiss, every touch burns through me. Thundering ecstasy drowns me in frothy waters. I’m totally and utterly awash in my release.

Satisfied and spent, I fall forward, my head landing in the crook of Hudson’s neck. Pine, spice, sweat, and sex. He smells delicious. His thrusts slow, and with a grunt, he spills inside me. As I try to catch my breath and recover from the high of my climax, tiny spasms continue to erupt through my body while Hudson’s pulse pounds in my ears.

Drained, he collapses, sinking to the ground, taking me with him, his cock still deep inside me.

As we lay on the forest floor, Hudson traces patterns into the small of my back, tempering the scratches the tree left. When I shiver, he rises and walks us to the cliff’s edge, bodies still entwined. Stretching to snag his flannel, he drapes it over me, surrounding me with his scent and warmth. While the last rays of golden hour light dance over us, my fingers stroke his hair.

Maybe camping isn’t so bad.