I should have known she wasn’t as ‘fine’ as she kept claiming. It was just her way of never letting anyone else worry about her, take care of her.
But all that shit, it came out when you were asleep and unable to lie to yourself anymore.
I knew I should keep moving, mind my business, go upstairs and let her mind work through the situation.
Did I do that?
Of course not.
“Hey,” I said, leaning down to place a hand on her hip over the blankets. “Gracie, wake up,” I demanded. Then, with a little shake, “Wake up.”
Her eyes shot open, wide and unseeing for a second.
“It’s just me. You were having a nightmare,” I told her as she slow-blinked at me.
“No,” she said, shaking her head.
“Yeah. I heard you crying in your sleep.”
“No,” she said, slowly folding up until she was sitting off the edge of the mattress, her head angled up to look at me.
It was then I noticed the flush over her cheeks, down her neck.
At some point, she’d changed out of the oversized outfit I’d put on her with the hopes that it might keep me from imagining what was beneath. Instead, she was in a matching baby blue silk pajama set with shorts and a tank top. And that damn tank top was not hiding much. Beneath the thin material, the roundswells of her breasts were clearly outlined. As were the pointed buds of her nipples from the cool basement air.
The sounds from her ‘nightmare’ came back to me.
I’d been quick to assume they were distressed cries.
But that flush on her, that suggested it was a different kind of cry entirely.
“Gracie,” I said as her hands slid up my sides toward my hips. There was a warning in my voice. A warning of what? I wasn’t sure. Maybe that I didn’t have the control to hold back this time like I had in the past.
“I was having a dream,” she admitted, voice still husky with sleep. “But it was a good one,” she said.
Her hands slid inward, fingers brushing across my stomach.
I was rock-fucking hard already.
The heated look in her eyes said she was just as far gone as I felt.
I had to stop her.
But her hand slipped. Her fingers pushed my button through the hole. Then my zipper was sliding down.
My breath felt caught behind my ribcage, tight, suffocating.
Any second now, I would push her away.
But then her hand slipped.
Her palm closed around my cock.
And any chance of moving away disappeared.
A low, rumbling sound moved through the basement. It took an embarrassing amount of time before I realized the sound came from my own chest.
I was too busy listening to the way Gracie gasped, to how her eyes widened as she fisted me and stroked down my length.
