“You lied to me, Hayes Ca—” I caught myself.
He smiled. “Maybe.” And then, with seemingly little effort, he lifted me and carried me over to the bed. “You’re not going to freak out, right?”
“It depends how good you are.”
“I’m going to be very good,” he said, sliding me back on the duvet.
In that moment, when he hiked up my dress and descended between my legs, the realization that this was indeed happening struck me as absurd. There had probably been many before me, and there would be many after, but in that moment, it was just me. And for whatever reason I was plucked from the sea of nameless, faceless women who would have willingly shared Hayes Campbell’s bed, and brought to this place, to this precise instant, to engage in this act.
His mouth was moving up along the inside of my thigh, his tongue tracing lazy circles. His movements slow, maddening. And at the moment when I thought he would land, he aborted his mission and moved to the other thigh. Like a cunnilingus flyby. I must have pulled on his hair because he laughed, raising his head.
“For someone who only wanted to cuddle, you’re awfully impatient.”
“I just wanted to make sure you knew where you were going.”
“You want to draw me a map?” He smiled. Those fucking dimples.
“Do you need one?”
“I don’t know…” He lowered his head and ran his tongue slowly, explicitly over my clitoris before looking up at me. “Do I?”
My heart all but flipped out of my chest. “No. No, you’re good.”
“Yeah. Can I do this my way now?”
I nodded, my fingers still wrapped in his hair.
He took his time. His mouth moving at the inside of my thigh again, higher, closer. His tongue teasing. And then he stopped and waited, hovering, letting me feel his breath. I didn’t dare move. And at the point where I thought I could no longer bear it, he dove in. His tongue dipping down so low it was essentially at my ass, and then ascending in one fluid motion over the opening of my vagina and up to my clit. He did it again. And again. And again. And each time was so unbelievably wonderful and thorough, I felt like I had no secrets left. Hayes, unfolding me with his mouth.
At some point he paused again, waiting, breathing, knowing what it was doing to me. That he could be so in control at his age boggled the mind. I felt myself rising off the bed to meet him when he stopped me with the palm of his hand.
“I’m not going anywhere, Solène,” he said. His voice low, raspy; his fingers playing over my lips, slipping inside.
I watched him. The light creating a soft halo around his beautiful head. He returned his mouth to me and I heard myself moan. The deftness of his tongue. But even if he hadn’t known what he was doing, the sight of Hayes Campbell with his head between my legs was an image worth holding on to.
It didn’t take very long. His mouth, his fingers, sublime. This was not his first time. And the way he held me down when I came, wrapping his arms around my legs and refusing to pull away evenduring the “StopStopStopStopStop,” was such a fucking turn-on that I thought I would implode.
“Are you happy?” he asked before I was even capable of speech. Climbing up beside me, wearing me on his face.
I nodded, wiping his cheeks, kissing him, tasting myself.
“Well, I guess my work here is done then.” He smiled, rolling onto his back.
“If you leave now, you might be able to catch the second half of the match.”
“You’re making jokes, I see. I suppose that’s better than freaking out.”
“I’m still freaking out. Just on the inside,” I said, positioning myself on top of him.
“What are you saying to yourself?” His hand moved up to my head, his fingers playing in my hair.
“I’m saying, ‘Wow, that alone was worth the flight to Europe.’”
“Really?” He smiled. “Are you thinking it was worth a first-class ticket or just economy?”
“That… that was worth flying private.” I reached down to pull up his T-shirt, exposing his abs, allowing my hands to run over his taut skin, his defined muscles, the crease that ran diagonally from his hip to his groin.
“Wow. That’s like a hundred-thousand-dollar orgasm.”
