The gentlemanly thing to do is assist her.
Instead of trailing up her body to caress her tits, my hand travels in the opposite direction. Her sweatpants are so loose on her, the waistband offers no resistance as I delve further.
Underneath, she’s bare.
Following my instructions to a T.
I cup her pussy, leaving my hand in place for a minute while I wait to see if she’s going to wake. She softly pumps her hips but her breathing stays steady, the slight hoarseness telling me she’s still fast asleep.
Moving slowly, gently, I slide my middle finger between her lips, caressing the silken skin inside, slick with arousal from whoever features in her dreams.
There’s a sudden spurt of envy when I consider George might be cheating on me in there. Might have another man locked in her psyche. Then she breathes out a name that sounds suspiciously like mine.
I grin ear to ear in the darkness.
“D’you like that?” I whisper and she groans, hips tilting again, seeking more friction. I give her what she wants, what she needs, drawing my finger back along her sweet folds until I’m circling her clit, making her whimper.
When I move again, I ease my finger inside her entrance, circling there, teasing, then thrusting up to my second knuckle, closing my eyes and pressing my forehead hard between her shoulder blades as her muscles flex and pull at me, urging me still deeper.
I send another finger in for company and feel her edging closer. Her breathing changes tempo, her thighs squeeze harder. Each stroke brings her nearer, nearer, my movements becoming ever slower the closer she gets, letting her explore the edge in all its glorious detail before I use the heel of my palm to take her over, losing myself in her ecstasy as her muscles clench and flutter around my fingers, eking out every last satisfying spasm until she’s fully spent.
George smacks her lips together and puffs a breath out through her nose before resuming her normal breathing.
I fist myself, then can’t stand the thought of going solo while she’s lying there, ready for the taking. I roll her onto her front, lining myself up, then slowly, slowly ease my way inside.
The tempo of her breathing changes. I can tell she’s awake by the third thrust. I pause, waiting for acceptance or rejection, waiting for her to show me how much she can take.
She moans, then her voice is breathy as she whispers, “Lachlan?”
I heave out a sigh, whispering in her ear, “I hope you don’t think there are other candidates who’d crawl into your bedroom and fuck you awake at night.”
A hand creeps onto my hipbone, the angle awkward but I take it as an invitation to continue. I press my palm into herlower back, moving her, changing the angle so her next moan is harder, filled with more urgency.
My arm goes around her chest, then higher, securing her shoulders so when I pump into her, I hit the spot in exactly the same way, exactly the right way, every time. She curves her arm, reaching behind me to squeeze my arse as she gives a guttural groan. Then she reaches for my free hand, pulling it upwards, squeezing it tightly in hers, then placing it on her throat, an open invitation to play with her air.
“You like that?” I ask, my voice taking on a hard edge as I draw nearer to my goal. Her answer is a vibration through my palm, the rough pant as I restrict her windpipe, pressing until she wheezes, then relaxing before it cuts off entirely, repeating the process, again, again, again, until she clamps her hand over mine, pressing more savagely into her flesh than I would dream of. Her arse slaps back against me, cunt muscles squeezing until the friction makes my head spin, my balls tighten.
I grab her hair, twisting her head at such a violent angle I expect a protest but instead she comes, the shudder taking hold of her centre and spinning out until even her mouth trembles with the impact.
My lips press against hers, no mercy. Stealing a kiss, stealing the last shudder of her orgasm, stealing her moans.
Another thrust and I explode inside her, thrusting again and again as my hot release pours into her wet, waiting body, having to pull away from her mouth as a roar catapults from my throat before I can clamp my lips shut to hold the loudest part in.
I press kisses to whatever part of her presents in front of me, catching her face, the corner of her eyes, the back of her head, then twisting her body around in my arms so she faces me, kissing her fingers as she reaches to cup my head, finally claiming herlips with mine.
“I thought I was dreaming,” she says in a small, stunned voice and I clasp her tightly to me, chuckling, gathering her even closer, wanting to tuck her away and keep her safely inside.
“Perhaps you were,” I tease when I have enough breath back to speak. “You might have manifested me from your sleep.”
“In that case, give an A plus to my imagination because you’re pretty much the perfect specimen of manhood.”
I take one of her hands between mine, the skin still slightly cold from her slumber, and massage it into warmth. “Only pretty much? I’m insulted.”
She softly laughs, moving to lay her cheek against my chest, resting atop the initials she carved across my heart. “I got sent home from work,” she admits with hesitancy in her voice. “My employer apparently doesn’t want servers who are beaten black and blue.”
“Sounds like a decent boss.”
“Yeah,” she murmurs, then her body stiffens. Not as rigid as fright, more like wariness.
