“Later, brother.”
Once everything is prepared and plated, I take it to the couch, where Basia’s waiting. Her eyes bug out at the meal.
“You should work in a restaurant or something,” she breathes, poking the capers with her fork.
I scoff and drop down next to her. “And miss assignments like this one? What brain-decaying reality TV show are we watching today?”
“Don’t act like you hate it here,” she mutters with an eyeroll.
My eyes caress the curve of her cheek as she chews, the line of her lips as she wraps them around the fork, the movement of her throat as she swallows.
“No,” I mumble, repositioning my plate over my lap. “I don’t hate it.
∞∞∞
I’m weak.
If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be here, escalating just like a stalker. The difference, I tell myself, is intent. He wants to hurt her. I just want to own the parts of her she doesn’t even know exist.
Carefully, I tug Basia’s top higher, exposing her breasts fully, then bite my lip and choke down a moan. Her pale tits are as beautiful as I pictured and more than a handful, tipped with soft-looking, rosy nipples, peaking a bit now that they’ve been exposed to air.
As I imagine taking them into my mouth, my fist clenches tighter, choking my cock.
Weak. So weak, I drop down to my knees next to her side, just so I can be closer to her. From this distance, I can smell the pomegranate body lotion she applied before bed. It makes my mouth water.
Basia’s eyes move under her eyelids—she must be dreaming. She’s not as deep in sleep as I thought, and I’m rushing. But the thought of her opening her eyes and seeing me gives me an idiotic thrill that makes my balls jump.
“Mm,” she moans softly, drawing my gaze to her lips. “Caleb.”
I freeze, and my heart skips a beat, just like a teenage girl’s. Does she know I’m here? Or is she dreaming about me? When she only continues to mewl softly, I resume stroking my dick, my eyes now locked on her beautiful face.
I feel like I’m in a race—a race to come before she wakes up. Maybe a race to come while she’s still—presumably—dreaming about me, dreams that make her utter these delicious sounds which are driving me insane right now.
Basia squirms under the covers, and I reach to pull them away. When I see her clenching her thighs together, I nearly growl like an animal.
Fuck.
She’s having a wet dream, and I might be starring in it.
Her mouth is softly opened now, and she’s panting with tiny puffs that I want to feel on my dick. There’s nothing I want more than to wrap her in ropes and use her mouth, come down her throat, then eat her out until she’s a helpless mess, unable to stop me, unable even to close her thighs to get away from the onslaught of sensation.
I’d take my time tying her into a full-body harness, red rope crisscrossing her delicate skin just like whip marks. I wouldn’t rush fucking her throat either, enjoying the velvetysmoothness. Hell, I’d trigger her gag reflex just to feel her choke.
I lean in closer, until my mouth is just an inch away from one of her lovely nipples. They’d look so beautiful clamped.
I wonder how many times I’d have to bring her to the brink of orgasm without letting her tip over to make her cry and beg.
Basia’s breath stutters. “Oh,” she whimpers, arching her back a tiny amount and lifting her chest.
Weak, I tell myself as I take the nipple she’s offering in her sleep into my mouth.
It’s my turn to moan. Her sweet and slightly salty flavor dances over my taste buds, and I can’t help sucking, eager for more, for every fucking thing her body can give me.
Our breathing grows harsher in tandem, my hand shuttling over my cock with near violence now. I don’t think I ever needed to come as bad as I do now. The urge to bite down and make her squeal is nearly irresistible, but somehow, I master myself and continue sucking gently.
Her bedding rustles as she scissors her legs and throws her head back, and in the next moment, she lets out a long, drawn-out moan that makes me spill into my hands. Basia’s body twitches with her pleasure as I grunt softly against her chest, shaking out spurt after spurt of my orgasm.
“Fuck,” I breathe when I pull back. Her eyelashes are fluttering, but she doesn’t seem awake.
