Chapter 17 Morning Wood-N’t You Like Some Coffee?
Morning Wood-n’t You Like Some Coffee?
I never bought into that crap. I was determined that I would be entirely clinical about losing my virginity. No longer being a virgin was just a fact. There. I’ve been fucked. It’s done. I can move on.
That was…until I woke the next morning with Hudson’s pronounced morning wood lining my ass cheeks, teasing me with what I couldn’t have anymore.
It might have been a sweet moment—if, you know, we weren’t coworkers who had agreed to a one-night, no-strings-attached hookup.
He spooned me, one strong hand on my naked hip.
His heart beat against my bare shoulder blade.
I might have been distracted by his soft breath on my neck…
except I was more focused on the erection against my hip bone.
I hadn’t seen a lot of dicks IRL, but I knew from my entirely work-related research that his was a good one. One that I wasn’t quite ready to have disappear back into his well-fitting pants.
Dammit. The truth was, I had changed last night. Just not in the way I anticipated.
All my carefully cultivated, methodical, and clinical thought processes were now infected with the most reactive of human oddities.
Feelings.
Hudson stirred, his hand caressing my side, and I ached for those fingers to move lower.
To slip between my folds so I could rock against them and ride all the way to another orgasm.
I wanted him to pull me back onto him, gently taking me from behind so I could relish the girth of him again, that fullness that made me deliciously dizzy all night long.
Expectation: Great, now I’ve had sex.
Reality: Holy fuck, how am I going to not have sex with this man ever again?
A jarring question that only grew more desperate when his fingertips began traveling up my side. It took everything in me not to arch my back against his waiting dick.
“Good morning,” he breathed.
And it was. It was the best morning I’d had in a long time.
What a nightmare.
“Good morning,” I squeaked. “Did you sleep all right?”
A breathy chuckle. I guess that wasn’t what most girls said after a guy’s first sleepover.
“You really don’t know what you did to me, do you?” he asked.
“I have an idea.”
The trail of his fingers up my body was slow—brutally slow—and their destination was clear. My nipples grew hard in anticipation.
“No, you don’t.” He traced a half moon around the base of my breast. A tease. “You wouldn’t ask that question if you knew. You exhausted me. I’ve never gone to sleep so satisfied. And I’ve never woken up quite so—”
A thrill of pleasure raced through my body as he brushed my left nipple. My eyelids fluttered closed.
Then I jumped out of the bed like it was on fire.
Problem: I can’t have any more sex with Hudson Bailey. It’s a distraction.
Proposed Solution: Get the hell out of here. Get him the hell out of here before you invite him to stay.
“God, you must be so ready to get going, huh? Don’t want to be late to the office.” I scrambled around the room in search of clothes. Where had they gone? “You should probably go in first, then text me and let me know when you’re in so I can follow. Don’t want anyone getting suspicious.”
When I couldn’t find any damn clothes on the floor, I glanced up at him. He’d sat up against my headboard, legs lazily spread so his proud cock announced its presence beneath the sheet draped around his hips. Hudson fixed me with a look somewhere between amusement and confusion.
It was a sweet look. One that made my heart and not my pussy flutter.
I…I liked waking up to him. I liked seeing him in my bed. I liked being the reason he smiled first thing in the morning.
Fuck it. I didn’t need clothes right that second. I just needed to get some space.
“I’m going to make coffee,” I said too brightly. “Do you want coffee?”
“You don’t drink coffee,” he reminded me.
But I was gone, escaping into the kitchen. We’d left it a mess last night, having taken snack breaks between sessions.
As some rustling indicated he was hunting for his own clothes, his voice reached me. “Is everything okay?”
How dare he be thoughtful and considerate? I focused on the cabinets, where I had to have some coffee, right?
“Never better,” I lied. “Just want to be respectful of your time.”
“And what if I want to spend that time with you?”
“We have work.”
“And after that?”
My chest tightened. “Well. I mean. That wasn’t the agreement.”
“Ah.”
Ah. That was all he said. Ah. My mind rushed to fill the gaps of that syllable, to turn it over as if it were a complicated engineering problem that I needed to find the right angle on.
Was it an Ah, you’re right, how silly of me?
Was it an Ah, that’s disappointing, I’d give anything to fuck you again, you glorious goddess?
Or maybe an Ah, that’s where my socks went.
I snapped the cabinet in front of me shut, and the air brushing across my skin made me aware all over again that I was extremely naked.
Emotionally and physically.
“Would you mind grabbing me some clothes? There should be a robe in the top drawer of my dresser.”
“No problem. Happy to—oh.”
What was it with this guy and single syllables? Had my pussy been so good that it robbed him of the ability to speak, or was he just not at his sharpest in the morning?
Then it hit me. Oh was not ah. Oh told me exactly what I’d done wrong.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I couldn’t even avoid sex right.
I hadn’t specified that he should look in the top left drawer. A fatal error, because the top right drawer was one of three dedicated entirely to my collection of sex toys.
Right then, Hudson was likely looking down at my extensive arsenal of “sexual health aids” like it was the friggin’ suitcase in Pulp Fiction.
Every inch of me wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment. Which sounds stupid, considering he knew I used them, and we both worked on them. But it was the difference between wearing a bikini on the beach and getting perved on in your bra and underwear through a window: all about context.
A long, low whistle came from the other room. At least he had the decency to sound impressed.
“You are…dedicated to your job.”
“I told you. I’m an expert.”
The sound of his laughter carried through the apartment. I smiled along, trying to slip back into teasing-colleague mode. I could handle that, right?
Nope. Not when, wearing only a pair of gray briefs stained with pre-cum, he emerged from the bedroom holding a robe in one hand and a powder-blue finger vibrator in the other.
I bit back a groan. This had to be a joke. Of all the ones he could have fished out of the drawer, he picked one of my favorites? Impossible.
“Is this one good for beginners? Maybe you could show me.”
He gestured to the vibrator again. It was a small device that had a massaging head attached to a ring, which could be fitted over the finger so the user could easily stroke their clitoris with it. It gave more control than a traditional vibrator and allowed for more rolling movement.
It certainly wasn’t the biggest or flashiest toy in the drawer, and I wondered what had made him pick this one.
A raised eyebrow from Hudson quickly turned my wondering into imagining—imagining things I could not allow Hudson to do to me with that vibrator.
I’d never be able to pry myself off his dick if he did.
The orgasms last night were bad (read: mind-blowing) enough. I had to draw the line.
“As much as I’m sure your future girlfriends would love that, we agreed. No practical demonstrations.”
I snapped my robe out of his hand. Time to get dressed. Back to reality.
“Again, I reiterate. Agreements can change.” Easily, he pulled me away from the counter and into him. His erection pressed through his briefs and against my belly. “Ours could change. If you wanted.”
And there it was. Out in the open. He still wanted me. All I had to do was say yes.
Enthusiastic consent. What a concept. If only my heart got the memo.