“That’s terrible,” she mocks, feigning a gasp.
“I thought so, too, until I landed in a field of daisies.”
“Did you hit your head when you fell? Because that would explain a lot.”
“No, the landing was soft,” I say, still making things up as I go. “So soft. It was fluffy and warm. Actually, now that I think about it, this field of daisies wasn’t a field at all. I landed in your sheets.”
“Wow. So lucky. Did I wad them up and strangle you with them?”
“You were about to,” I concede. “But I was able to convince you otherwise.”
“How did you manage that?” she asks skeptically.
“How else, Tiger? I put my mouth on you.”
“Where?” she asks, her voice betraying her eagerness.
“Your forehead first,” I answer, imagining us in her bed. We’ve been there at least a half dozen times now, but in my mind, we’re not in a rush. We’re not hiding anything. We’re waking up slowly and taking our time. “Then I kissed the tip of your nose.”
“This is so hot, keep going,” she deadpans.
“I did. That’s what got me to the column of your neck and across your collarbone. In my dream, you slept naked. I think you should try it in real life. It was a time saver.”
“Oh, yeah, because tearing off my nightshirt is so time consuming. And it probably puts a strain on those bulging muscles of yours.”
“No doubt,” I agree. “Plus, it was easier for me to cup your tit and wrap my lips around your nipple.” At the mere suggestion, her nipples harden to peaks under the soft material of her long-sleeved t-shirt.
“So you kissed my breasts, too?” she asks, her words a little breathy. Liza likes to think she plays it cool and never shows her cards, but I know her tells.
“Kissed them, licked them, sucked them. Fuck, we should do that sometime,” I say, letting my hand trail over my abs as I watch this fake dream play out in my mind.
“We should let you suck on my breasts? I’m not opposed to that at all, but we’ve definitely done it before,” she says, letting her finger slip under her collar so she can toy with the strap of her bra.
I shake my head. “We should see if I can make you come like that. We should see how far we can take it, how wet and worked up you get just from having my mouth and fingers on those pretty tits. Fuck, they taste good,” I tell her. The story I’m spinning is entirely made up, but the way her body turns me on is the absolute truth.
“Do you want to do that now?” she asks, and I damn well know that if I say yes, her shirt and bra will be in a pile on the floor in a matter of seconds.
“I need to tell you the rest of the dream,” I say, toying with the hem of my own shirt. I mess with it just enough to show her a little more of my torso. What good are all those workouts if I can’t watch the appreciation in Liza’s gaze as her eyes rake over me?
“Then you better start talking because our roommates are going to be home in about forty minutes.”
Time is of the essence, so I jump right back into the story. “I kissed my way down your stomach and then moved right to your thighs.”
“My thighs?” she questions, gesturing at her cotton-covered legs. The woman wears sweats all the time, and I get it. They’re comfy. But I’d be happy to pay the heating bill and crank the thermostat up to ninety degrees so she’d walk around in short shorts. Her thighs are full and soft and they hug my hips just right when we’re tangled up in each other.
“Yep. Your thighs. I never pay them enough attention and I’m afraid they’re going to start feeling neglected. I’d hate that.”
“They’re not,” she says. “They’re fine. Other parts of me might though.”
“Is that why, in my dream, you cupped your hands around my cheeks and dragged my face up to your pussy? It all makes sense now.”
“Why do I love it when you say that word?” Liza asks. “I used to hate that word. It’s so weird. But you say it and suddenly?—”
“Suddenly what? And just so we’re clear, what word exactly? I’m trying to remember what I said. Thighs? Stomach?”
“My pussy,” she answers impatiently, and I feel a fucking jolt right in my dick. God, she’s hot. I love that Liza gets playful with me, and I especially love it because she doesn’t show this side of herself to anyone else.
“Right, right. Your pussy. Yeah, that’s where my face ended up. And I was not complaining. Neither were you, come to think of it.”
