Page 49 of Deceitful Promises

“Okay … but only because you asked nicely.”

Just like last time, she begins to snore. I wait until I feel her hand go limp, and then I gently push it away. Even now, if I don’t, the temptation is there. So much precome leaks from my cock, wave after wave of it burning hotly out of me, making me want to roar with how wild she’s making me.

There’s no way I’m getting more than a few hours of sleep tonight, but at least I can be here for her.

After a while, she sits up and switches on the lamp. She looks down at me, her eyes wide. “Oh,” she murmurs.

I can tell she’s awake now, properly lucid. It’s not one thing specifically, but her general demeanor.

“What?” I ask.

“I had a dream …”

I sit up, too. Her tone is like it was when she was sleepwalking, but she’s not now, is she? There’s no damn way.

“What sort of dream?” I growl, even though I’m pretty sure I know. I can read it in the redness of her cheeks, the way she purses her lips, the tension draping every part of her. The same tension burns in me.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Finally, I can’t stop myself. There’s only so much one man can take. Reaching over, I place my hand on her leg. She’s wearing PJ shorts and that tempting-as-fuck tank top that shows her pert, tight nipples. She gasps as I lean forward.

“I know what you were dreaming about,” I tell her. “You don’t have to be shy.”

“Me … shy?” She tries for a laugh, but it turns into a moan when I stroke further up her leg, feeling the heat of her skin, savoring the way her moan grows more intense the higher I get.

“You’re so hot,” I tell her. “Not just sexy. Not just beautiful. You’re burning up. Fuck, I bet your pussy’s soaked, too.”

She stares down at me wide-eyed as I smooth up her leg, then push my hand into her shorts from the bottom, reaching up and gently touching her. I can feel her through her underwear, and I was right. She’s wet. She’s hot. She’s on fire.

“Oh my God,” she whimpers. “This is … Is it supposed to feel this good?”

I smirk at the naiveness in her tone. It’s the thing that should warn me away, but it just makes me want her even more. At this moment, hunger runs rampant throughout my body, the urgency turning me into a total savage.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She chuckles but is cut short when I push her underwear aside and stroke up to her clit. The laugh becomes a moan like she can’t get enough air. She shifts up and down, moving her hips in time with my hand, her moans driving me closer and closer to the feral edge. I keep rubbing, putting more pressure against her virgin clit when I hear her moans getting even more urgent.

She grabs my arm, digging her nails in, gasping when I press my palm against her clit and move my finger down to her core.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” I growl, pushing against her wetness, feeling her tightness open for me.

“Hmm …”

“That’s my line.”

She giggle-moans, then leans toward me for a kiss, almost nervously. I close the distance between us, sinking into the kiss as I push my finger inside of her, keeping pressure on her clit all the while. It’s like her body moves on instinct, her hips following the music of our pleasure.

“Your pussy’s going to get creamy for me,” I growl. “Fucking soaked.”

“Oh, oh,” she whimpers. “I don’t … I think … Is this …”

Then she can’t talk anymore. The pleasure bursts out of her as her lithe body writhes against me, chasing the release. I rub her faster and faster, feeling addicted to my ballerina already. She kisses me again as the orgasm entirely claims her, and then she falls back, gasping, drawing in big breaths like she just emerged from underwater.

“I’m sorry,” she says when I slip my hand away.

“Sorry?”

“I don’t think I can … for you. I wouldn’t even know what to do!”

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