Page 84 of If Only In Our Dreams

Wanted to finger him like I’d said I would.

But first I…

First I…

First…

Ben was adorable when he was asleep. Super fucking adorable. It had taken me a while to understand what had happened, I was so distracted by scratching up into his thick red hair, and then down over the mole-speckled skin on his back. It was only when he started snoring that I realized the lazy lull of my touches had lured him to slumber.

I wasn’t mad though.

Truth be told, I was grateful.

Because even though I had a giant—and I meangiant—delicious man underneath me, my dick hadn’t wanted to come out to play. It had to happen eventually. I knew that. Wasn’t like magic, where every time Ben was nearby my cock would wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am and start to work again.

Twice was enough.

Twice proved that after a good night and some solid sleep, my body was more than willing to cooperate.

But it was Sunday, not Monday. And I’d had a week of restless nights between me and the last time I’d dozed in Ben Montgomery’s bed.

So yeah.

Ben falling asleep on me was a blessing, kinda. Because I didn’t have to explain to him why my dick was soft, and why it probably wouldn’t wake up at all.

Flopping over onto my back beside him, I couldn’t help but find it funny that only a week ago he’d done that same exact thing beside me. Onlyhisflopping had caused the bed to ripple, and mine barely disturbed the sleeping man beside me.

He mumbled something incoherent, squeezing the pillow in his grip tight, smacked his lips, and relaxed all over again.

And for several long, precious minutes, I let myself admire him.

I traced his wiry forearms and the fuzzy hair that clung to them. I stroked the bicep that had led me like Dorothy to the promised land of Oz. I brushed his hair away from his face and enjoyed his long dark lashes. Enjoyed the way they fluttered on his cheeks, spiky and soft. Enjoyed the wrinkles around his eyes and the gray at his temples that gave him a distinguished air.

I’d never thought I’d be into older guys, not that Ben wasold—because he wasn’t. Forties wasn’t old. But he was still older than I was.

He’d seen more shit than I had.

And he had a family.

A family he’d chosen.

Kids he loved.

Kids that loved him back.

Miles said there was room in Belleville for the both of us. And I was starting to suspect he was right. But was there room in Ben Montgomery’s life for a washed-up, fucked-up, Southern reject?

He made it seem like there was.

With every kind gesture.

Every time he included me.

Every warm smile, every laugh, every brush of his fingers.

Ben made me feel the way no one ever had before. When I was with him, I fit. Like we were puzzle pieces. Or harmonies. Two shapes, two notes, same tune.

I played with his fingers for a while, curled up next to him, my toes tucked beneath his meaty thigh. He was wearing the sweatpants again. The threadbare ones. And his ass looked almost as spectacular as his dick had inside them.

---