been playing street hockey with some neighborhood kids, and they all showed up half naked, and fully starved. Something shifted in me that day, woke with a vengeance. I always knew he was smoking hot, but damn, my ovaries nearly exploded as he gave me an up close and personal view of his hard chest and tight six pack.
Would his lower body be just as hard?
Dammit.
I should not be fantasizing about my good friend, especially when he just showed interest in Emily. I lied when he asked if he was a big fat snack. Oh, did I ever lie. What I’d do to take a bite out of him. But Emily’s the one he wants to go to bed with, not me—a tatted up girl who is the antithesis of the women who hang off his arm. I exhale sharply and work to push all images of Cason from my mind as I drift off. A long while later, a voice pulls me awake.
“Hey,” Cason says.
I take a breath, and then another. What the hell is going on? I try to focus, but my room is too dark to see anything. A big callused hand touches my face, and that’s when I clue in. I’m fantasizing about Cason again.
“Mmm,” I say and settle against the pillow, ready to ride this dream out to orgasm. His lips find mine, and I moan into his mouth, to let him know how much I like his kisses, even if they’re not real. No, none of this is tangible, not the weight of his body pressing down on mine, the hard cock indenting my leg, or the hungry groans that sound far too real.
“Sorry I took so long,” he says, and I put my legs around him, and move my hips.
“Forgiven,” I murmur and for a brief second he goes still. His body stiffens, and I’m not just talking about the anaconda between his legs. Oh, God, this is my dream, and I get to dictate what happens next, not him. I grip his hair, bring his mouth back to mine, and kiss the living hell out of him.
I lift my hips, grind against his body, and just give in to the things this man makes me feel. I’m not so sure I’d be so wild and bold in real life. It’s true, my outward appearance tells a story, a rebellious daughter of lawyer parents, who was supposed to follow in their footsteps, but inside, I’m not always as confident as I let on. But this, in my dreams, I can let go, and take what I want.
“Cason,” I murmur. “Get naked all ready.” I tear at his T-shirt, needing his skin next to mine. He reaches over his back and tugs, removing the stupid piece of fabric that’s preventing me from touching him all over. I can’t see a thing, but that’s okay. I want to feel my way around his luscious body anyway.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much,” I say, as his hand goes to my breast. He kneads me in his big, hockey player palms, rough from years of handling the stick, his thumb brushing against my nipple and holy, it’s all I can do not to come.
“Yes,” I say. “Just like that.”
I fist his hair and push on him, until his mouth is right where I want it to be—for now. Soon I’ll want it between my quivering legs. He chuckles at my boldness, and the sound vibrates through my body, and stimulates my throbbing clit.
“This what you want?” he asks, before pulling my hard nipple into his mouth. My lips part in ecstasy but no sound comes. He clearly knows what his kisses are doing to me. How could he not? I’m like a writhing, overstimulated nymphomaniac beneath him.
But I don’t care.
My sex pulses, and I’m so damn wet and needy, I’m sure I’m going to climax the second he touches me. Let’s find out. I grip his hair harder, and direct his mouth to my pussy, and he moves slower than I’d like, peppering hot, open mouthed kisses to my tingling stomach. He finally settles between my legs, and I arch up to meet his mouth.
The second his hot, wet tongue touches me, I let loose an agonized wail. “Yes,” I cry out. He licks me, circles his tongue around my clit, and I grip the sheets and tug. “You are so good at that,” I say. He should be. He’s been with enough women, but this is my dream, and