He didn’t have to ask twice. I was only too willing to comply.
It wasn’t the most graceful sex position, straddling his face, but I closed my eyes and grasped the carved wooden headboard for support. He lifted his head up until even the tip of his nose was in me, moving his tongue from side to side and in circular motions, pulling me squarely down on him until I was afraid I’d suffocate him. After a while, I didn’t care about anything other than the tremors running up and down my legs, the exquisite sensation of him tonguing my engorged clit as I rode the waves.
But it seemed the longer he licked, the harder it was to even approach orgasm. I would get to the edge of the cliff, right there, ready to jump off, then all of a sudden, I was all the way back from the ledge…the female equivalent of performance anxiety.
“I have trouble getting off,” I said apologetically, moving carefully, reluctantly off him and lying back down.
Hudson laughed. “All women have trouble reaching orgasm.” He wiped his chin. “You taste good.”
Give and receive, I thought. It was time to concentrate on him again.
I was pretty confident in my ability to get him off orally, or at least put on a good show trying. I ran my hands all over his chest and ridiculously flat stomach (he wasn’t kidding about being a hiker/biker/runner) and down to his thighs, deliberately avoiding his pelvis.
He moved his hips to one side to try to reach my fingers, but I stayed away until he pressed his erection against my shoulder, and then neither of us could wait. I took him in my mouth, pumping slowly at first, then steadily, as he held my hair out of the way to watch closely.
This time, thankfully, he stayed hard the whole time.
“God, you’re good,” he said, his breath catching in his throat.
I didn’t even have time to wonder if he would finish; his whole body spasmed as he came, a warm stream down my throat, and all I had to do was take one big gulp and swallow.
“Here.” He sat up. “Let me get you a washcloth. You don’t have to—”
I pushed him back down on the bed. “I already did, honey.”
“Was it too much?” Hudson looked worried.
It wasn’t the first time a man had ever asked me about the volume of his ejaculation. What was it with volume? The more the better? Not really.
“It was fine.”
“Good, because it’s been a while.”
I crawled up the bed to him.
“Do you want to spend the night?” he asked, pulling me into his arms, tucking my head against his chest. I couldn’t think of any reason not to.
He eased off the bed, giving me a chance to take in the full glory of his muscular butt, with those round concaves at the hips you get when you’re really fit. I’d never had them and had rarely seen them.
At his dresser, Hudson pulled out a laundry-fresh white T-shirt, all soft and silky. “Is this all right?”
It was so nice that I wondered how I could manage to sneak it home and keep it.
I waited until he was pulling on his own shirt to bolt for the bathroom, hoping fervently he wasn’t checking out my ass. In his bathroom, I tried to wipe off my horrendously smeared mascara with water and Kleenex.
Hudson came in with a new toothbrush. “For you.”
It was a fancy angled toothbrush with a neon handle, not one of those crappy ones they give you for free at the dentist.
“I’m sorry—I’ll be just a minute. I have to take Chloe out. Be right back.”
I leaped into the oversized bed before Hudson could get back inside, pulling the sheet up but leaving my shoulders showing and fluffing my hair against the pillow in a way I hoped looked seductive and youthful.
Hudson came back in with a bottle of water for my nightstand. “Anything else you need? What can I get you? Is it too warm in here?”
There was a slight breeze from the ceiling fan over the bed, making the temperature about as close to perfect as it could get.
He eased into the bed as if he were afraid of jostling me. I settled my face on his pillow.
“Good night, honey,” he said, already half asleep.
“Night, Hudson.”
I tried hard to fall asleep in the crook of his arm, but my forehead started to sweat, making my hair stick to my neck, so I had to move carefully away. Hudson slept as silently as my kids had when they were little, so deeply I used to shake them to make sure they were still breathing.
In the middle of the night I got up to pee, feeling for the light switch in the dark bathroom. His toilet was in a little room of its own. Private. When I got back into bed, Hudson was turned on his side away from me. I touched his back then leaned in and covered his shoulders with kisses.
Sometime later, Hudson got out a remote control and turned the ceiling fan off. “Your arms felt cold,” he said, tucking the blanket carefully over me, smoothing out the folds.
At last, we both slept.
I rolled over at the sound of the front door opening, feeling for Hudson on his side of the bed. It was empty, but still warm.
“Hi, baby,” Hudson said in the doorway as he unleashed Chloe. “Did we wake you?”
“No. What time is it?”
“Just after 8:00. How’d you sleep?”
“Really good,” I said. It had been a deep, dreamless sleep and I’d forgotten where I was.
“Did I snore?”
“Not at all.”
Hudson leaned into the bed to give me a big squeeze. I turned my head away, hoping he couldn’t smell my morning breath, patting him awkwardly on the back.
“Shower time?”
“It is.”
“I put some shampoo in the guest bathroom for you. I hope it’s OK. It’s some extras of mine. I think I have too many hair products for a guy,” he said sheepishly.
Taking a left
