“That would significantly increase our odds of someone finding us,” I tease, but the bite of my joke is lost in the sounds of pleasure that rush past my lips unchecked, leaving my words breathy and weak.
His low chuckle vibrates through my ribcage, and I clench around him as the sexy sound excites me.
He must feel it, too, because his thrusts grow more urgent, his grip on me tightening as he hovers on the brink of losing control.
I can feel my release building inside me as the passion intensifies. The sound of his ragged breaths, the sensation of his body wrapped protectively around me, like he intends to shield me from the world he’s claiming me in front of.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he commands.
I don’t even know this man, but if this is what it feels like to belong to him, I’m ready to sign on the dotted line. “I’m yours,” I agree, letting my head fall back against his muscular shoulder as the tantalizing stimulation overwhelms me.
“Come for me,amore,” he murmurs against my throat, his lips working the sensitive skin below my jaw. “I want to feel you fall apart in my arms.”
My back arches, my hips rocking back into him as my body takes charge, obeying him without question.
He knows just where to touch, just what to say to drive me out of my mind, and I gasp as an explosive orgasm rips through me?—
And sit bolt upright in bed.
It isn’t the first time my mystery man has visited me in my dreams.
And I’m embarrassed to admit it’s not the first time I’ve been woken mid-orgasm because of him either.
As I look around my bedroom, orienting myself, warmth floods my cheeks—a rich combination of mortification and deep satisfaction.
But my body isn’t quite ready to follow me into the waking world just yet, and I throb with the memory of having my faceless man inside me.
I couldn’t say if it’s some long-lost memory or a figment of my imagination.
But that doesn’t stop the recurring dream that makes my mouth dry and my heart race.
I know if I reached between my thighs right now, I would find my panties soaked for a man I may have never even met.
But then, I can’t be sure he’s a stranger, and I have to wonder if my dreams have any foundation in reality at all. It almost feels like they might because of how vivid they always are.
Not that it would matter much even if he were a real person or generated because of my complete lack of a sex life.
Between running the shop and taking care of Jackson, I just don’t have time to think about dating an actual person.
So my faceless dream man will have to do.
The thought of Jackson sparks an alarm bell in my brain as I finally note the bright sunlight filtering in through my bedroom window.
My eyes fly to the clock on my bedside table.
Damn it, we’re going to be late.
Throwing off my covers, I scramble to get out of bed, stripping off my pajamas as I cross the room.
“Jackson!” I call. “Get up, honey. You’re going to be late for school!” I listen for a response as I quickly pull on a colorful flower-print summer dress and comb my hair, and when I don’t get one, I briskly cross my bedroom to open the door and lean into the hall. “Jackson?”
“I’m up,” comes the sleepy voice from behind the door at the top of the stairs.
“Good boy. You have ten minutes to get dressed and have your stuff ready by the front door.” In the meantime, I dip back into my bathroom to grab my toothbrush.
Gobbing on the toothpaste, I give them a thorough scrub as I rush downstairs to the kitchen to pull together something Jackson can eat for breakfast on the go.
Precisely nine minutes later, I can hear the patter of footsteps racing down the stairs, and I smile. I couldn’t ask for a better little boy.
