Hudson(74)

It had been a great study. Celia had seduced Tim, the husband, while I’d worked my charm on the wife. My subject had resisted me, deeply devoted to her marriage, but Celia had succeeded in getting her subject in bed. Repeatedly. They’d had an all-out affair. Even when the wife had found out, she still refused to sleep with me, though she’d shown more than once that she was attracted. It had not been what I’d hypothesized. More surprising was that she forgave him for his infidelity.

I’d filed the entire experience as another attestation to the detriment of love. Why the f**k would any sane person forgive a spouse for that kind of gross unfaithfulness? It was weakness. Devotion made people stupid. There was no doubt in my mind.

“I still get nervous the first time we start any new game.” She leaned back into the corner of the couch and bent her legs up in front of her, her bare feet perching on the edge of my thigh. “And this is the first time I’ve felt comfortable changing things up without talking to you first.”

“Well, we don’t need to make that a habit now.” I pulled one of her feet into my hands and started rubbing it.

“We’ll see how it goes, I guess.”

I tried not to let that bother me. Things would morph just fine, I told myself. Whether I was in control or not.

We settled into silence. I continued my massage as I thought about how we’d both changed in the last years. Through our games, we’d become comfortable with more than just improvising. We’d found an ease in our relationship as well. We frequently staged kisses and embraces without any residual sexual tension. The undercurrent of emotional pull that had once existed between us had dissolved into something less fraught, less physical, yet intimate. We shared a rapport with each other that we had with no one else. We were…close. Friends. Partners.

I dropped her foot in my lap, ready to move to the other. The first brushed against my crotch. Celia’s forehead rose. “Is that your di**ck?”

“I told you I was hard.” It was actually a semi now, but certainly not flaccid, and the reminder of my pent-up lust for Monica had me stiffening again.

“Still?” She poked at my bulge with her toe and waggled her brows. “I can do something about that if you want.”

“Are you serious?” The idea alone already had me softening. We’d become close, but the idea of taking things to a physical level still seemed wrong.

“Why not?” She flicked her tongue along her lower lip. It was meant to be sexy, and any other man would probably have taken it as such. Not me.

I had to look away. “Uh, thank you, but no.” I pushed her feet off my lap to further enunciate my lack of interest in what she was proposing.

“You’re such an *.” Her scowl was present in her voice. “You’re a total man-whore, but you won’t let me suck you off?”

“It would ruin our relationship.”

“Whatever.”

I studied her, trying to determine if she was pulling my leg. A side effect of knowing how well a person can pretend is that you don’t know when to question their sincerity. “Are you really serious about this?”

She shrugged. “I’m excited about how tonight went. It made me horny.”

“I get the excitement.” But I wasn’t having sex with Celia. “I’ll buy you a vibrator.”

“Fine.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not really interested in sucking your hairy little prick anyway.”

I couldn’t decide if she was really fine with my refusal or if now she was pretending. Either way, I was happy for the lighter turn in the conversation. I kept going in that direction. “Little? Did you just call my di**ck little? Maybe you need to put your foot back here again.”

“No, no, no!” She screamed as I grabbed her foot, pretending to want to pull it back to my crotch.

I held her foot in my hands while she scrambled to get away. “Just a minute ago, you were willing to put your mouth on me, and now you can’t even touch me with your foot?”

She put her hands up in surrender. “I was joking. I wouldn’t suck you, Hudson. Or f**k you. Ever. It would be…weird.”

“Very weird.” I let go of her foot, and she casually pulled her legs up under her again. “And it would mess up this.” I gestured back and forth from her to me.

She smiled. “Agreed. And this is nice.”

“I do like this.” We didn’t talk about this often. Or at all actually. We’d let our relationship evolve without commentary, but this felt like it needed to be said. Especially after her strange sexual innuendo. I had no intention of going there with her, but this—what we did have—it meant something to me. And that was interesting in itself—that any relationship I had meant something to me was unusual.




Still, if things got strange, if Celia tried to be something more than what we had, I’d be able to walk away. And I would walk away. Without looking back. Funny, then, how the idea bothered me.

It was more than I wanted to contemplate at the time. I stood and stretched, feigning a yawn. “Are you staying?”

Celia often stayed over at the loft with me, sharing my king-size bed like two school kids having a sleepover. It was never an issue, but this night I hoped she would say no. Some distance after our conversation might be needed.