“Sex was definitely on the table in this dream.”
His hands pause. One cupping my breast and the other at the apex of my thighs. He pulls back and studies my face with an arched eye.
“I better have been the star of that wild dream of yours.”
As much as I’d like him to continue what he was doing, I can’t resist teasing him a little. Just to keep him on his toes.
“I don’t know.” I purse my lips. “It was a little hard to tell, what with the guy wearing a mask, like Westley inThe Princess Bride.”
His jaw hardens. “And you couldn’t tell by his body?”
“I couldn’t see it. He was taking me from behind.”
“But you somehow saw his face?”
“Only when I was looking over my shoulder. But I didn’t get a very good look.”
“Why not?”
“I was too busy holding onto the tree while he was really giving it to me.”
The scowl on Brendon’s face is so stern, I almost lose it and burst into laughter.
He swallows hard. “This guy was really giving it to you?”
“Hard.” I bite my bottom lip to contain my humor.
There’s no way I’m breaking now and confessing that I’m messing with him. He was obviously in my dream. And, contrary to what I’ve told him, it was a lot more basic. But still incredibly hot. We were making love on the banks of the stream that runs through our land.
“Don’t worry.” I pat his cheek in mock sympathy. “If it makes you feel better, I’m pretty sure it was you under the mask.”
“How do you figure?”
“Because I’d know your cock anywhere.”
With a growl, Brendon pins me onto the bed. I giggle as he nips at my neck, suck the sensitive skin and taking little bites that will no doubt leave a mark. Not that I care. It’s already turtleneck season in Alaska. And it feels too damn good.
I splay my fingers over his back, massaging his muscles while he continues to tease my body. The passion and desire we have for each other hasn’t dimmed a bit in the years we’ve been together. If anything, it’s only grown stronger.
We’ve also become experts in how to drive each other to fulfillment. Quickly if necessary. And that’s a good thing when you have three kids under the age of six. We don’t always have much time to get off.
Brendon grips my panties and tugs them down my hips. “So you’d know my cock anywhere?”
“Most definitely.” I slide a hand between us. I grip him through his boxer briefs, and he sucks in a breath. “We’re good friends.”
“How good of friends?”
I pull him out of his boxers to show him. He’s lined up at my entrance, ready to plunge when a piercing voice cuts through our lusty haze.
“Mom!”
We both freeze and hold our breaths. We exchange a look, silently encouraging each other not to make so much as a peep. Maybe—just maybe—if we stay completely still and avoid making any noise, our kids will leave us alone for a few more minutes.
“Mom! Dad!!”
We let out dueling groans of disappointment. It was a long shot to hope they’d entertain themselves. But a parent can always hope.
Actually, maybe it’s a good thing they aren’t entertaining themselves. The last time the kids were super quiet, they ended up “redecorating” the curtains in the living room with their markers.
