29
HUDSON
I woke a couple of hours before the sun, same as always. But unlike our normal the previous seven or so months, Madeline didn’t seek me out as her body pillow during her deep sleep pattern.
Instead, I spooned cut muscle while a bubble butt cradled my too-early morning wood.
My wife’s shallow breaths on the other side of Colton let me know she still dreamed, but I wasn’t surprised. Mads loved to sleep—and the lucky woman conked out like the dead unlike me who jolted at every creak of our old house.
The young man tucked between us lay quiet, his heart in slow, steady rhythm beneath my palm. I breathed in the scent of herbal shampoo. Not sweet like Mads but mouthwatering all the same.
He felt good pressed all along my front, and the memory of how he’d taken me so well the nigh
