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Everything is soaped, shaved, perfumed, and perfected within an hour. In my favorite pair of leggings and an off-the-shoulder Metallica t-shirt from Ivy, my hair blown out and all the creek picked free from my freshly painted pink nails, I’ve never been more ready to walk twenty-three and a half feet. My body is sore, my foot is throbbing and my ear canal is nothing but pressurized pain.
But I’m headed to him, so I choose to ignore those things. And as I wait on his porch, I think of the speech.
The one I’ve practiced many times.
When Hudson realizes that I’m eternally his, I’ll need to come clean about everything I’ve done. It’s the only way he can trust I truly love him, and I’m not just obsessed with him. I mean, I am obsessed with him because he’s obviously the most incredible man in all of Bluebell, in the entire state of California, and even farther, maybe.
The speech rumbles around my mouth, most rehearsed yet some parts flimsy. I chew my bottom lip as I wonder if I should give him a few days before I come clean? I definitely have to do it before he finds himself thinking about putting a baby in me.
With a virile man like Hudson, it won’t be long.
I feel it.
The door swings open, knocking the air from my lungs as a peer all the way up at the massive man stretched before me, his black t-shirt clinging to him. His hair is damp, and his jaw has a light beard now, which my pussy loves. I lickmy lips as I blink up at him, smiling while thinking of being on my knees behind him, his big hands spread over the wall, my tongue deep in his ass.
God, I hope he lets me do stuff to his ass.
I want to do everything toandwith him.
His patchouli and laundry scent rock me toward him and I find myself smiling shyly as I push past, moving inside.
“Come in,” he rumbles. When I turn, I find him smiling. “Thank you for coming over.” I run his tone through my database. He’s sincere, but he’s also tired, and that combination usually leads to a very honest Hudson. I learned this once or twice after babysitting for him that after an extremely long day on the farm, he speaks freely, doling out tokens of advice about life and other things.
He’s using that same thoughtful tone now, and my insides rumble as heat cascades through my chest, my nipples hardening.I love this tone.
Looking down, I notice him in socks. This is only the third time he’s been in socks around me. Third! It’s crazy because I’ve watched Bear plenty, but Hud’s a very private man. His walls are up. That’s why it’s taken me two years to get this far. Well, that and the universe. She has a part in this.
“Where’s Bear?” I ask as I watch him flip the lock on the front door, despite the fact we never do that out here. He turns to me and chuckles. “Paranoia. Bear has never sleepwalked in his life but I lock the door all the time in case.”
His paranoia will only be worse after today, that’s for sure. My stomach twists with discomfort because I do not like the idea that Hudson will carry so much stress. His big,broad, muscled shoulders already carry so much weight—running the farm and the entire crew, being a single dad, hosting the farmers market, and being a family man. He doesn’t need any extra weight.
I would take it away from him if I were his.
I would check the door for him every single night and report back to him. I’d slip into bed, tangle my bare legs with his, stroke my nails down his cock. I’d say,Baby, the door is locked, now fuck me. And eventually, after lots of time, he wouldn’t worry about the door. He’d know he could trust me to lock the door.
“I get it,” I tell him, smiling.
“And to answer your question,” he sighs, walking past me to lead us into the living room, “he’s finishing getting his pajamas on. He’ll be out here in a minute.”
“I can’t wait to see him,” I admit, sliding nervously into the couch as Hudson takes a seat in the chair across from me. A glass table divides us. My cunt aches against the soft fabric of my leggings, knowing I’m onhiscouch. He rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward, and I want to steal a look at his cock but he takes a deep breath before tipping his head slightly, eyeing me.
“I’m sorry, Dolly,” Hudson says, catching his forehead in his hand. “I can’t make small talk.” He gets to his feet and takes three steps around the table, coming to stand right in front of me. My eyes are level with his crotch, and my mouth fills with saliva. But he lowers his hand, palm up, and I instinctively slide mine into his.
With a small tug, I’m on my feet, mentally spinning as Hudson pulls me against him, smoothing his hand up and down my spine. His scent infiltrates my senses,making me dizzy and hot, my heart beating so fast I’m sure he can feel it. I can feel his beating against mine, after all, heavy and steady.
I wrap my arms around his waist, and the pain from my aches and bruises fall away as we hold each other, the fire rippling a few feet away.
He’s so tall, his head hovers well above mine. He holds my head against his chest, rubbing my back, quietly saying, “Thank you, Dolly. Thank you so much.”
Heat burns the backs of my eyes, and I blink, loving that I’m so pressed against him that my lashes graze his t-shirt. “You’re welcome,” I whisper, afraid to look up at him and break the spell. Afraid that if he sees the impact this moment has on me, he’ll break it up and sit back down and start talking about the farmers market or something.
I have to leverage this vulnerable, raw moment into more.
Hudson gives me an in, pulling back from me, though still touching my lower back and my head when he asks, “You hungry?”
For your cum, yes.“Yes,” I reply with a smile.
“Late dinner after Bear goes down?”
