Depends on Who's Asking - Lani Lynn Vale Page 0,21
muscle after that.
We were hyperaware of each other.
More than a little bit tuned into each other’s every move.
And when the movie finally ended—the same way every single Hallmark movie ended—I was thankful.
Because now I could go to sleep. Now I could lie in bed in the dark and not have my cock noticed at all.
After both of us got up to use the bathroom, I shut the drapes on the windows and plunged the room into darkness.
I heard her shift on the bed and the multitude of pillows she didn’t want to use get tossed onto the floor.
I walked around the side of the bed to my side and lost my sweatpants on the floor before crawling in myself.
I was in for a really, really long night.
Especially when I got under the covers and a waft of her scent smacked me straight in the face.
Groaning, I turned my back to her and tried in vain to go to sleep.
CHAPTER 7
My bells don’t jingle without coffee.
-Coffee Cup
SAINT
Quarantine Day Three
It was the middle of the night.
How did I know it was the middle of the night?
Because I’d watched every single hour since eleven roll past on the clock.
And my dick was still really, really fucking hard.
Not only was I lying beside the woman, but I was drowning in her scent.
Last night, instead of crawling onto the top and covering up with the small blanket I’d found in the closet, I’d accidentally—more like on purpose—crawled underneath the covers with her.
And each time she moved, she would brush one of her body parts along an exposed part of my left side.
It was getting to the point now where I wasn’t quite sure if I could handle sleeping at all that night if I didn’t get myself under control.
And that meant taking myself in hand.
Without realizing what I was doing, I started to rub my hand along my cock over the top of my underwear. At first, I was only doing it absently, trying to soothe the raging beast that was my dick.
But then I started to think about the woman beside me. The way she made me want her. The way she smelled, and how she would feel when I was inside of her.
My left hand touched the bed, and something silky and soft pressed against my fingers.
I fisted the material and only then realized that what I was touching was her shorts.
Her shorts were off.
She was on the bed beside me, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and panties.
I squeezed my cock just as the bed beside me shifted.
Her leg moved up until it was resting over my hand that was fisting her shorts.
It was at that point that I realized my mistake.
In reaction, I’d let her shorts go and flipped my hand over.
Now I was cupping the inside of her thigh, right above her knee.
I closed my eyes at the move, my hand that was rubbing my cock now delving underneath my underwear.
Soon I had my cock out of my shorts and in my hand.
But I was in a dilemma.
If I moved my hand too fast on my cock, she would feel the movement.
So I had to be careful.
I had to go slow.
I had to… God, I had to come.
I moved my hand down to cup my balls, loving the way that it felt as I imagined it was her hands doing it and not mine.
Moving my hand again to my shaft, I slowly moved my hand up and down the length, eyes closed as I tried to block out the way my calloused hand felt on my cock. I pretended it was hers, slowly moving it up. Down. Up. Down.
Each time I moved, I tried extremely hard not to make the bed, or even my body, move.
And just as I realized I should probably get up and do this in the bathroom—not only could I go faster and harder like I knew I would need, but I also wouldn’t have to wonder about cleanup—Carolina moved.
I froze as her body all but turned completely into mine.
She scooted and turned until she was all but lying on top of me.
Her breasts were now pillowed on my chest, high above my heart. Her head was pressing against the top of my head. Her leg was thrown out over my belly, and the bare tip of my cock was pressing against the inside of her thigh.
The arm that was cupping the inside of her thigh was now on her ass, pressing her harder against me.
And I