Blinking at him slowly, I turn my gaze to peer down at the cylinder-shaped foam roller I’ve been using to roll out my sore inner thigh muscles.
This week’s amount of dance training has been intense, and the pulsating ache in my legs is killing me, so after I left the gym, stealing a kiss from my boyfriend who was still busy training aclient, I headed home, rolled out my yoga mat and began moving through a series of stretches in an attempt to unpick the knots forming in my muscle and tissue.
Repositioning the damned foam roller, which is both my best friend and my worst enemy with its raised bumps designed to really dig into my tight muscle, I squeeze my eyes shut, red hot pain searing through me.
I grit my teeth, ignoring the hiss of agony escaping my lungs, and stretch my leg out long again. Keeping the foam roller beneath my right thigh, I plant my palms flat on my yoga mat and roll myself backward and forwards, backwards and forwards, backward—
“Here.” Hudson rounds the sofa, squatting down beside me, a familiar looking bottle in his hand.
I glance at the oil and then at him, pressing my lips together as another wave of agony rips through me.
“Strip and lie on your front.”
I hardly hesitate, pushing the foam roller away, hooking my thumbs into the waistband of my gym leggings and pulling them down to my ankles.
Peering over my shoulder, I watch Hudson’s eyes glued to each inch of skin appearing as I remove my clothes. “Underwear on or off?”
“Your choice… although you know what my answer would be.”
Feeling a warm blush begin to tinge the top of my cheekbones, I make the split-second decision to peel the rest of my clothes off too.
Cold air kisses my core as I unsnap my sports bra, moving through all fours and onto my stomach.
Behind me, Hudson grumbles his approval, draping himself over my back to press a sweet kiss to the ball of my shoulder.
I can’t help but wiggle against the hard bulge digging into my lower back, anticipation turning into arousal, which pools warmly in my core.
Hudson allows me to grind against him for a heartbeat or two before he stills me with a tight pinch to my hip, pulling the flesh apart there until I feel the cool air of my apartment dance over my arsehole.
I know Hudson has a thing for my arse – it’s a pretty good arse if I do say so myself – so I’m not really all that surprised when he leans backwards, taking most of his weight off my back, to suck a red mark into my right arse cheek.
“One day. One fucking day, Gee,” he mutters, his stubble rubbing up against the sensitive crease where my bum and thigh meet.
He doesn’t have to say much more to elaborate; I know exactly what he wants.
My arse.
But it’s going to take a little more prep sessions before I’m ready to take him without tensing up in pain.
Much to Hudson’s teasing touch and devil like smirk.
Cocking a brow, I glance back at him. “You’re supposed to be helping me stretch out my kinks, remember?”
“Oh, I’ll help stretch you out alright.” He grins back at me, smoothing back a slutty lock of brunette hair from his forehead and tucking it back under his backwards facing snapback cap.
Jesus.
If he can see, or feel, how wet I am for him, he doesn’t comment.
But we both know how my body is reacting to him, our close proximity, the power dynamic of him being fully clothed and me naked. I can feel my arousal coating my inner thighs, making my skin tacky, the pulse of my heartbeat thrumming through my swollen clit.
Folding my arms to act as a cushion for my head, I lay my cheek down, closing my eyes at the cool sensation of my foam yoga mat rubbing against my hard nipples.
I hear Hudson uncork the glass bottle of massage oil, and the sound of his tracksuit cladded legs shuffling around to get comfortable before the rose scent of the massage oil tickles my nose.
Rubbing his hands together, he warms up the oil. “Ready, Gee?”
“Mhm.”
