Page 5 of Deceitful Dreams

“I guess the idea of road-tripping across the country was better than the reality.” I take a bite, already feeling more energized as I chew.

“Well, I think people usually take the time to stop and visit some sites as they travel. Spread out their days.” Wyatt shrugs.

I agree with him, and maybe I would have planned it if I had someone to share the experience with. When I thought it would just be me, I was more keen on getting home as soon as I could. I didn’t want the disappointment that would creep in with every stop and a harsh reminder that there’s no one by my side.

“We could make some pit stops if you’d like,” Wyatt offers.

Shaking my head, I pick at the fries at the bottom of the bag. “It’s okay. You’re already giving up so much of your time to travel with me as it is.”

Wyatt puts his food down and reaches to squeeze my knee. “Sophie, stop thinking about me and what you think I want. If you want to stop every hour to look at some rock sculpture on the side of the road, then we will.”

I smile, tossing a fry at his face. “Rocks. Really?”

He laughs, leaning back and my skin burns from the loss of his touch. “Just an example. I’m sure we could find more exciting things to visit.”

“Whatever you want, Wyatt. I’m just your passenger princess.” I smirk.

His eyes flash for a second and his nostrils flare before he turns to his food with pink cheeks. The glee of teasing him sets off flutters in my stomach. I’m enjoying it far more than I should considering he’s married and off-limits.

***

Brushing my teeth, I take in my small tank top and sleeping shorts. They fit on my body tighter than what I’ve been wearing all day. With no bra, the rods of my piercings poke through the tank top. My shorts could slip between my ass cheeks with ease. It’s inappropriate to wear such things in front of Wyatt, especially when we’re sharing a bed. But after spending the entire day wishing he would reach over the center console and bury his fingers in my pussy, my pent-up horniness is making me do questionable things.

I spit and wash out my mouth with water. Fluffing my hair over my shoulders, I open the door and step out. He looks up from where he’s perched on the bed and his eyes slowly drag down the length of my body. His throat bobs as he swallows and then looks away, facing the floor. I desperately wish I could see if he got hard looking at me.

“All yours,” I say in a chirpy voice and bounce on my tiptoes to the bed. Peeling one side of the comforter down, I burrow under the sheets.

Wyatt stays there for another moment before standing and padding across the room and then the bathroom door shuts with a quiet click. My shoulders sag, an uncomfortable silence settling inside me. I know I should be ashamed of my attraction and my inability to not tease him. There’s an overwhelming urge to get a reaction from him, like I need validation that he feels this tension too. Even the reminder that he’s slept with my mom doesn’t stop how I feel.

I’m sure if I called up a therapist real quick, I would get some psychoanalyzed bullshit about how I seek the validation of men because of the emotional neglect from my mother, but I don’t think that’s entirely true considering I’ve only slept with two men in my life, one being a long-term boyfriend and the other a year-long situationship.

Sighing, I move onto my side and turn off the lamp as I pull the sheets over my shoulder. I’m determined to be better tomorrow, and to control my flirty tendencies. When the shower turns off a few minutes later, I hold my breath as Wyatt comes out, and I squeeze my eyes shut to keep from looking at him.

“Okay if I turn off the light? Or did you need anything on to sleep?” he asks. My stomach flutters with the question, not used to the gesture of someone caring about what I need.

“I’m good,” I say. I’m sure he finds it rude that I don’t turn to look at him, but I don’t want an image of whatever he looks like before crawling into bed with me.

The warmth of his body behind me is hard to ignore. I keep the blankets snuggled to my chin as we both lay stiff as boards on the bed. Every few minutes he shifts, shaking the mattress a bit, but neither of us say anything into the restless dark.

I blink awake when an odd noise disturbs me. I hadn’t even realized I fell asleep. I sit up slowly as a low moan comes from beside me. It sends shivers straight to my nipples at the sensuality of it. Glancing over at Wyatt, my breath catches.

He’s kicked off the blankets at some point, lying on his back uncovered and only in black briefs. Light peeks through the curtains, glistening off the slight sheen of sweat gathering on his bare chest. He moans again, and the minuscule lift of his hips draws my attention before they drop again.

His cock is hard, pressing against the thin material of his underwear. I look back up at his face, determining he’s still asleep. I can’t hold back the smile when I realize he must be having that kind of dream. The kind of daydreams I’ve been having over and over of him.

Wetting my lips, I shift closer to him, gently tracing my fingers along his ribs and down his toned abdomen. The trail of dark hair from his belly button disappears into the waistband of his briefs and tempts me to follow it. I snap my hand back when his cock jerks under the fabric, and I pause as his hips lift and drop with a low grunt from his throat.

Heat gathers between my legs as I wonder what he’s dreaming about. I imagine he's dreaming about me, about not being a gentleman and closing the space between us and doing all the naughty things he shouldn’t.

When he doesn’t move for another minute, I reach forward and rest my palm on his thick length. The warm, hard erection under my hand has my pussy throbbing at the need to feel it inside me. Stroking him gently, I barely put any pressure on my hold as I get familiar with his size.

Wyatt groans, pushing against my fingers and giving me the courage to apply a firmer touch. I rub my hand up and down his length. His breathing picks up as his chest rises and falls faster.

“Soph…” A muttered breath falls from his lips and I pause, convinced he was going to whisper my name. He bucks into my hand, and I wrap it around his cock the best I can through his briefs. I stroke, not slowing my pace as his hips rock into my fingers. His stomach contracts as a choked noise gargles in his throat and his cock pulses.

My pussy weeps as I feel the warmth and wetness of cum. It spreads in his briefs as I slowly let go of him. I lick my fingers, tasting the small amount of salty arousal that leaked through the material.

Leaving him in his mess, I turn onto my side and fall asleep with a blissful smile.

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