Now, as he groans again as if he’s suffering some terrible pain, I realize I’m so hot my body feels like it’s on fire.
My hips are also moving…
Rolling and grinding against his hard erection as I try to ease a pulsing ache in my core.
I freeze instantly in dismay.
What on earth am I doing?
The throbbing between my thighs, however, continues on. Growing stronger now that I’ve stopped. Urging me to keep moving.
It takes every ounce of self-control I have to remain still.
“Are you awake?” James asks, voice strained.
My first instinct is to deny what’s happening. To deny what I’m doing.
So I tell him, “No.”
Something twitches against my throbbing sex and it takes me a second to realize it’s his cock.
I didn’t know they could do that…
And what the fuck happened to my pants?
James’s tips his head down and his warm breath tickles my ear as he chuckles. “No?”
Pulling away from his neck, I lick my dry lips and taste his salty skin. Another jolt of alarm goes through me as realization sets in.
I molested him in my sleep.
Oh god.
“This is a dream,” I insist, though I don’t know who I’m trying to convince more, him or me.
Grabbing my ass, his fingers squeeze and knead me in a rhythm that makes my hips long to rock against him again.
“A dream…” he repeats, drawling it out thoughtfully.
“Yes,” I gasp as my thighs tremble around his waist.
Unable to peel my skin away from his skin.
“Whose dream? Yours or mine?”
Disturbed and still in denial, I’m quick to blurt out, “Yours.”
This is totally his dream.
I would never…
Using his grip on my ass to yank my hips closer, my slick sex slides against the hot, velvety length of his shaft.
I can’t help but moan a little as an electric wave of pleasure radiates from my clit.
Keeping one hand firmly on my ass, the other reaches up, tangles in my hair, and tugs.
I’m blind in the dark, but he still arches my neck back like he wants me to look up at him.
“Are you sure this is my dream?” he asks, suddenly sounding very serious.
Still refusing to take responsibility for starting this, I insist, “Yes.”
His breath hitches for a second then becomes faster, puffing against my forehead. “Think about it, Sophia… Are you sure?”
Locked hip to hip, I ache to writhe against him. To grind away some of this needy tension.
I’m so focused on trying not to give into the need to relieve the pressure inside me, I almost groan, “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Then so be it,” he says with an ominous finality I don’t understand.
Tearing his fingers from my hair, he rips my shirt over my head. Then he grabs my hips with both hands and flips me onto my back.
His heavy weight comes down on top of me, pinning me to the bed.
Caught by surprise, I try to push him away even as my body longs to bend and strain toward his.
“Remember, when given a choice, you chose this,” he growls then his lips smash against mine in a breath-stealing kiss.
All my senses reel as my brain struggles to catch up and process what’s happening.
Why does it matter if I chose this to be his dream and not mine when we both know where this will end?
How does it make any difference?
His tongue thrusts firmly past my lips, stroking against mine, and all other thoughts flee my head.
I may have technically been a virgin until today, but I’m no prude. I’ve experimented a little and kissed a few boys over the duration of my life.
The way James kisses… it’s almost indescribable, it’s that good. No other kisses I’ve had can even compare to the way he does it. His are on such a higher level, it’s like they’re not even the same thing.
The way he knows just how much pressure to use and always finds the perfect rhythm between pressing and pulling…
It’s like he’s making love with his mouth.
Or, at least, what I imagine what making love would be like if I ever did it.
I suppose how good he can kiss is what got me in this position in the first place, and I shouldn’t be surprised by how adept he is given all his experience.
But even now, having been well-kissed by him twice in my life, I’m surprised by how quickly I want to melt into the sheets in a puddle of pure bliss.
My body begins to relax, and I find myself grabbing at him. Kissing him back with a hunger that almost matches his.
As if he’s rewarding me, his kiss becomes so fevered, so intoxicating, I feel drunk when he finally pulls away to drag his lips down my neck.
Finding the most sensitive spot, he breathes hotly against it before latching on and suckling.
In the dark, unable to see, everything about him is intensified.
The size of his big body covering mine.
The sound of his breath as he pants.
The slight trembling of his hands as they start to roam over me in pure reverence.
Eventually his mouth moves on, dragging down to my chest where he lavishes each breast with equal attention.
But he doesn’t stop there.
Seemingly knowing where every sensitive spot on my body is, he begins to worship me all over with both his mouth and hands.
And nothing seems to be off-limits.
Kisses are placed against my stomach.
My thighs are nipped.
The back of my knees are licked.
Sliding down, he even grabs me and turns me on my stomach so his mouth can kiss a path down my spine and latch onto the left cheek of my ass.
The sensation is so disturbing at first, I want to crawl out of my skin. Clawing at the sheets, I try to fight my way away from him.
Ignoring my pleas to stop, he growls.
His grip firm and his mouth relentless.
Suckling and alternating between each cheek, gradually each pull tugs at something knotted deep inside me, loosening it.
By the time his grip releases me and he pushes me flat on my back again, I’m a panting, needy mess.
Grabbing my knees, he spreads my legs wide, and I quiver with anticipation.
Ready to have him inside me.
Ready to be filled and whole again.
But he doesn’t slide up my body.
No, he shoves his head between my thighs.
Unease floods through me as I feel his breath puff against my wet lips.
I’ve pretty much let him have his way with me up to this point. Let him taste and feel almost every other inch of my body.
In the dark, in the silence, it’s been easy.
He’s just a phantom lover from a dream.
But there’s something about having his face up in there that feels too… intimate for my liking.
“Don’t,” I gasp and reach down, pushing at his head.
Growling, he tries to ignore me like he did when he had me on my stomach.
I couldn’t reach him then, but I can now.
Palms pressing against his forehead, each time he tries to get close to my pussy, I shove him away.
Growing frustrated with me, he grabs my wrists and yanks my hands off his head.
Absolutely determined to keep his face away from there, I slam my knees together, denying him access.
He drawls my name out in a warning, “Sophia…”
A tendril of worry curls in my stomach hearing his voice in the darkness. The tone… the sheer masculine weight of it is downright threatening.