The first thing I noticed before I even opened my eyes was her smell. The delicious swirl of my cinnamon clove soap and her natural, fruity fragrance reminded me of strawberries dipped in cream—not the stuff that came in a can, either.
The second was the mass of thick curls spread across my chest. I resisted the urge to thread my fingers through the strands that still hadn’t finished drying.
We’d made it through the first movie okay. Well, Nessa had at least. I’d watched most of it through the fabric of a throw pillow—horror movies had never been my thing. She’d passed out on my shoulder halfway through the second one. I hadn’t had the heart to wake her, especially when a soft snore had rumbled outof her nose. I’d wondered if other guys got hard when their fake girlfriends started snoring on top of them.
Eventually, I’d given into the fatigue and fallen asleep, too. Not a catnap either, but a deep, languid slumber. It was rare for me to sleep that hard on my own, let alone next to another person.
At some point, we must have sunk down into the cushions. That was how I’d woken up, with me lying flat on my back and her tucked into my side, leg slung across my lap like a seatbelt.
Nessa was a ride I might never survive.
But what a way to go.
A feral groan fell from my lips when she twisted. Her bare, fleshy thigh grazed my cock, reminding me that she was still naked under my sweatshirt. We were approaching dangerous territory, the great unknown beyond the end of the rainbow, which made Nessa’s bare pussy the pot of gold just out of reach.
Literally. My hand was trapped between our bodies, inches from the hem of her sweatshirt.
She moved again, this time grinding her hips against my thigh.Fuck me.Was she awake? Was she dreaming? More importantly, was she dreaming about me? Wet heat seeped through the thin material of my sweatpants with each roll of her hips.
“Angel.” I barely recognized the rasp of my voice. “You’ve got to wake up.”
“Mm,” she mumbled into my chest.
The hand snaked around my neck drifted slowly—painfully so—down my chest. My hips surged upward, nearly shooting off the couch, when a nail scraped over my nipple. If she wanted to hurl the rule book into the fire and let me fuck her through the couch, all she had to do was say so, but we weren’t taking this any further without her consent—a full, unwavering, and enthusiastic yes. Anything less wouldn’t do.
“Nessa, stop.” She whined when I palmed her ass through the sweatshirt, stilling her movement.Me too, angel.
She tilted her head back, blinking up at me through half-lidded eyes, swollen with sleep. There was something else there, too—lust. Unfiltered, vulnerable need.
“You don’t want to?” she asked.
Was that even a question? “Of course I do.” I brushed a wet strand of hair away from her forehead. “But I need to know where your head is. Do you want this?”
Do you want me?
The unspoken words hung between us. She bit her lip, hesitating for about zero point two seconds before lifting herself up, settling a knee on either side of my waist, and lowering herself down onto my cotton-covered cock.
“Holyfuckingshit, Nessa.”
An answer to my question would have been too easy, and Nessa—my angel—was anything but. I settled my hands on her thighs, halting the motion of her hips. When my thumbs dug into her creamy flesh, inching closer to her dripping cunt, she sat back.
“Ah, ah. You know the rules.” She laced her fingers through mine and pressed our hands to the armrest behind my head. “No kissing, no sex.”
That felt more like a technicality at this point. My throbbing tip was notched between her pussy lips, separated only by a thin layer of fabric. If we were naked, she would have already been impaled on my cock.
“Angel.” I groaned. “You’re killing me here.”
“No touching or I stop.” She punctuated her order with another swivel of her hips. “Got it?”
I grunted my approval.
And then, as if I weren’t already dangerously close to coming in my pants—something I hadn’t done since I was thirteen—she leaned forward and whispered, “Good boy.”
She may as well have swallowed me down the back of her throat—the effect would have been the same. My cock jerked, no doubt staining the inside of my sweats with precum. It looked like I would be doing another load of laundry tonight, when all I really wanted was to dump my load into Nessa.
But I was a good boy—Nessa’s good boy—so I would take what she was willing to give, even if it meant keeping my hands to myself while she rode us both to ecstasy.
I dug my fingers into the couch. My heart raced, pulsing in time with every smooth glide of her pussy—back and forth, up and down—over my cock. I couldn’t touch her, could barely see her save for the light of the dying fire reflecting off her curls.
