“Otherworldly hip strength?”
“Um…were you just there? You could power a train.”
His body shook with humor.
My eyes narrowed.
“I think the definition of being able to take over anything is being stronger than someone else,” he teased.
“We take care of each other,” I shot back.
He clasped a handful of my ass. “Oh, you took care of me, Coco.”
“Don’t call me Coco for the first time when I’m exasperated with you,” I retorted. “It’s sweet and I don’t feel like thinking you’re sweet right now, Judge Oakley.”
“Baby, you quit breathing for thirty full seconds while you came. I thought I’d have to stop fucking you so I could resuscitate you. How can you be pissed right now?”
I planted my hands in his chest and tried to push off.
Only to find myself on my back again with Judge pinning me.
In this, I lost his cock, which was a shame. But nature always eventually took its course, so c’est la vie.
I sensed I’d get it back.
“I thought we were going to make love,” I accused.
“You were the one that screwed that pooch.”
Me?
I had control over the proceedings exactly zero seconds the entire time.
Therefore, I demanded, “How…precisely…did I do that?”
“You called me perfect. Being all perfect and gorgeous yourself, that thick mane of hair all over my bed mixed with rose petals, wet, tight pussy all greedy, those eyes of yours I feel in my balls even when we’re not naked, I won’t get into how much I like your tits, and that fucking ass. With all of that, you say shit like that, what’d you think was gonna happen?”
“I would assume you’d have more control,” I sniffed.
“You assumed wrong.” He then changed the subject, declaring, “We’re totally doing this rose petal thing at least once a week. Having those caught in your hair while you’re getting fucked is all kinds of hot.”
“It isn’t special if we do it all the time, Judge,” I pointed out.
“So you think it was special?”
There was a tinge of earnestness in that.
God, he was.
He was actually perfect.
“Don’t fish,” I fake admonished, but my tone was full of affection. “You know this was impeccable.”
His face warmed.
But his mouth still teased.
“You haven’t even seen my charcuterie board, babe. I got like, five kinds of cheeses and tons of different nuts and olives, and there’s some peppers, and I rolled up the meat myself. And I made cereal treats but with Fruity Pebbles and extra marshmallow, and they rock.”
That sounded amazing.
What was more amazing was the effort he put into it.
For me.
“Are you going to feed me with your fingers?” I asked.
He did a body shrug which was just a shrug, but since his body was flat out on mine, I felt it all along my length.
It felt nice.
“Sure.”
Hmm.
“I get top next time,” I announced.
“We’ll see. You hungry?” he evaded.
I was, as I’d said earlier, starved.
I was more so now after our recent activities.
However.
“I get top next time, Judge,” I pressed.
“We’ll see,” he repeated, bent, touched his mouth to mine, and cut off all further discussion on that topic by lifting away and saying, “I gotta let Zeke out and get the food. If you open that champagne while I’m gone, you’re not getting top for at least six months.”
I gave him the Death Stare even as every iota of brain power homed in on the words for at least six months.
He ignored my glare, reached to grab his throw blanket and tossed it over me before he rolled off the bed.
Then he strolled to the bathroom to deal with the condom.
I found out later Zeke had been corralled in Judge’s home office, just to be sure he didn’t interrupt us. When we went at each other again after champagne, charcuterie and Fruity Pebbles treats (I did not get the top, by the way, however, Fruity Pebbles treats did “rock”), Zeke was as he always was.
Completely behaved, lying by the bed until Judge exhausted me and left me to take the food we didn’t eat back down to the kitchen.
The last thing I remembered from last night was moving like a zombie as I put on my panties with hazy ideas of finding and pinching a T-shirt of Judge’s to sleep in, giving up on that and collapsing back into bed. Then Zeke sensing the all-clear and coming to cuddle me.
I cuddled him back.
And now was the next morning.
I watched the light go out in the bathroom, meaning Judge was coming back.
And when he did, I was getting the damned top.
“Scoot, Zeke,” I called softly to the dog lying at the foot of the bed while I uncurled from around Judge’s pillow and righted it.
Zeke’s head was up, eyes aimed at the bathroom, but it turned to me for a split second before he hopped down.
Such a good dog.
Judge returned, sliding in bed and reaching for me.