And she’s clinging to my arm, her mouth gaping open as she snores softly, her copper red hair curled in every direction but tame.
She snorts once, opens her eyes, and stares at me, but doesn’t seem toseeme, and blurts, “The map is a lie.”
Her eyes close, she lets out the heaviest of heavy sighs, and burrows harder against my arm.
She’s fucking gorgeous, and I have a boner the size of a hundred-year-old blue spruce.
It’s been with me since I fucked up and touched her last night, then couldn’t stop touching her.
My balls feel like they’ve been used as a punching bag. If my cock doesn’t cool it, I’m gonna have to call a doctor.
Not good.
I close my eyes and breathe deeply. I can control this.
I can work through this.
I’ve done it before. I will do it again.
Yep.
I’ll feast on her pussy without getting any relief of my own again if that’s what it takes to put her to sleep.
No.
No.
I’ll get over the boner. That’s what I meant.
This is a false situation that’s making me feel attracted to her because I’m still a biological, heterosexual male whose body doesn’t always agree that the best course for my life is being single forever.
And I like to take care of people.
She needs care right now.
I orgasmed her to sleep because she needed it.
This isn’t actual attraction.
It’s a disconnect between my body and my brain.
My boner isn’t going away.
Wait.
Goddammit.
She saidthe map is a lie.
Is she dreaming about Thorny Rock?
The question can wait.
It can effing wait.
She needs her sleep, and she’s getting it, and that’s enough for right now.
For this moment.
