Dr. Chase Hudson (The Surrogate Book 2) Read online

  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?”

  She looked up, right into my eyes, “Just you.”

  “Do you think you can, maybe, keep talking to me about it? Not right now,” I said, watching her. “But... whenever you need to talk about it. I'm a good listener.”

  “You won't tell Nat?” she asked, looking anxious.

  “I won't tell anyone unless you want me to.”

  She let out her held breath, nodding a little. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” I said back, letting the subject drop and going back to my books.

  But from then on, when she needed to, she talked to me.

  She talked about what she remembered from that night. She talked about how she felt that next morning. How she kept it from Natalie when she got back to their apartment and Nat asked some questions. She told me about the trip to the clinic she made to get checked up a few weeks later. She told me how she didn't like leaving her apartment anymore because she was afraid she would cross paths with the guy from the party again.

  Then she told me that she never

  ever

  wanted to have sex again.

  Fifth Session

  By the time she walked into my office Thursday night, I had managed to work myself into a million untangle-able knots. About her. About what I felt like was happening. About me. About why I was feeling the things I was. About if it was just my past coming up to haunt me. About my fucking career- the one thing that I had in my life that mattered. My livelihood. My passion. It was the thing that was being threatened every single time she graced my office with her presence.

  I was tense. Every nerve was on edge. A muscle was ticking in my jaw.

  The door opened and Ava walked in dressed head to toe in black, turning to lock the door behind her.

  “Ava,” I said, careful to not call her a pet name at first greeting, knowing that was a habit I had to break.

  “Hey,” she said back, her voice wavering.

  My mind cleared enough to take in that she was still in the doorway. She was as tense as I was. That anxiety was practically sparking off her skin.

  “You look like you're ready to bolt.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Care to tell me why?”

  A strange pained look passed over her face, but she quickly pushed it away and a brow rose instead. “I don't know. Care to tell me why you're so tense?”

  Ha.

  Well then.

  She had me there.

  And damn if it wasn't sexy as hell that she was calling me out on my shit.

  “That was... snippy,” I said, fighting a smile.

  “Yes. I have feelings other than anxiety you know,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly. But it was all bluster. She was covering something else, an emotion more delicate than anger.

  “I'm getting a picture,” I said, letting myself smile. I felt some of the tension leaving my body, enjoying getting to see Ava in another new light. And fuck if she didn't look great in it too. “Jake on your nerves again?” I asked.

  “Jake's been great actually,” she said, surprising me, but I was glad for it too.

  “Work getting to you?” I tried.

  “I took off yesterday. And it was my manager's birthday today so all we did was eat cake and gab.” That was more information than she normally offered. And yet, she wasn't telling me anything.

  “You took off yesterday? Were you sick?”

  She looked like she might roll her eyes at me, like I was trying her patience. In the end, she just exhaled. “No. I just wanted a day off.”

  “What did you do?” I asked, wondering if it meant something that she was still in the doorway. I knew why I was still behind the desk. I needed to keep some literal space between us or I was never going to be able to keep the metaphorical space I needed from her.

  “I ate enough gelato to feed a small village and watched TV with Jake.”

  She liked gelato. Not normal ice cream. Gelato. It was something I felt glad knowing. Which made no sense. Because it was something that I had no reason to want to know about a client. A patient.

  “Sounds like a good day.”

  “It was much needed,” she agreed on a small nod. />
  Alright. That was enough.

  “Are you going to stand in the doorway all night?”

  “Are you going to stand behind the desk all night?” she countered, her tone sharp and I wanted to strip her down and fuck her right where she was standing. Was there anything hotter than a woman who could dish it out a little?

  “Alright, smartass,” I smiled as I moved toward my office door, “let's go get a drink.”

  I heard her following behind me as I went to make drinks. Beside me, at the stereo, she jabbed her finger at the screen harder than necessary. Then, a few seconds later, ear-piercing metal screamed through the speakers.

  I lifted a brow, handing her a drink and watched her throw it back in one shot. I did the same. I had a feeling I was going to need it.

  “I get it,” I said, taking her drink and setting it aside. “You're in a mood.” I moved to the stereo and flipped through the playlists. “But let's listen to something a little more appropriate for the session,” I said, hitting a sensual r&b playlist. “You haven't asked what tonight's session is yet.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you want to know?” I asked, my brows drawing together in confusion. Everything about her was off. She wasn't making any kind of sense.

  She shrugged. “Sure.”

  Sure? Sure? What the fuck was going on with her?

  She wanted to play that game? I could play. And I could win.

  So I went and laid down the royal flush.

  “I am going to go down on you. And you are going to go down on me.” Unfortunately, I didn't get the response I was looking for- meaning a genuine Ava one. No. I got a bit of wide eye, a bit of parted lips, but then... nothing. “Do you know what that means?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oral sex,” I clarified.

  “I'm aware.”

  Jesus Christ.

  “Okay. Enough,” I clipped. “What's the matter?”

  “I'm fine.”

  “No... you're not.”