Page 17 of The Bro-code

“Yes, please don’t stop.”

I thrust into her again and again, my cock already pulsing, aching for release.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, not until I hear you scream my name.”

“Ryker, Ryker.” She screams, her inner walls contracting around me, squeezing my shaft in the wettest, tightest embrace of my life.

I’m seconds away from coming, and that’s when it hits me that I didn’t put on a condom.

But I’m too far gone to care. Besides, condoms don’t really matter during a dream, right?

“Ryker, Ryker. Wake up.”

Cinnamon’s annoyed voice shakes me awake in the semi obscurity of the aircraft’s cabin.

BAY

“Ryker, Ryker. Wake up.”

Maybe I should have let him sleep, but I was having the craziest, naughtiest dream ever—Ryker might or might not have been in it—and now I have to go to the bathroom.

“Uh? Where am I?”

I fight the urge to raise my voice, but everyone around us is still fast asleep. “We’re on a flight to California, and you got a little too… comfortable.” I say, trying to sound annoyed as I’m captive of those ice blue eyes.

“Oh, shit,” he finally realizes that he invaded my space as he fell asleep, and his head is still resting on my chest. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I’m sorry.”

I do my best to look annoyed and mildly outraged as he straightens up, running one big hand through his mussed hair. He has no business looking so good with his hair sticking out in every direction. Life is unfair sometimes.

The truth is that I miss the feeling of his head on my chest and his spicy, masculine scent.

Obviously, there’s no way I’d ever admit that. Not even under torture.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” I blurt out, undoing my seatbelt. I don’t really have to pee, but the dream I was having was so hot that my panties are literally soaked. I need to wipe down there and compose myself before I can be in Ryker’s presence.

“Cinnamon, wait,” he covers my hand with his on the armrest.

I gasp, probably sounding annoyed when in reality the contact with his warm, slightly rough palm does nothing to help the situation in my panties.

My nipples are hard and achy too and I thank God that the lights are still dimmed in the cabin.

“I’m sorry for the lipstick incident and for the cinnamon roll, I?—”

“Thank you for giving up your seat for me,” I whisper, immediately regretting it. “You didn’t have to.”

It’s the truth though, the seat was his and he didn’t have to let me have it.

His fingers stroke my knuckles in a gesture that suggests way more intimacy than there should be between us, since we don’t know each other.

“If I’m forgiven, could you tell me your name?” he asks with a hopeful smile that makes him look adorable.

So adorable that I almost cave. “If you continue to be nice to me for the rest of the flight,” I smirk, getting up. “We’ll see.”

I walk away on shaky legs, relieved to be far from this sexy, confusing stranger.

“Holy shit,” I sigh, looking at my flushed cheeks in the bathroom mirror.

This is the second time this guy’s touch affects me more than Topher’s persistent efforts have done in two years of dating.

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