Page 32 of A Stealthy Situation

“Close … so close …” I gasp.

“Me too.” The voice is familiar.

“Gonna come …”

Benny gazes down at me, eyes confidently locked on mine, puffy lips parted, hand jerking me toward the edge.

My orgasm hits hard, cum filling my fist as my eyes fly open.

I’m gasping into the dark, struggling to catch my breath and work out what just happened, and as my brain cells come down from that mind-spinning high, one thing becomes clear.

I just came in my pants.

I strip my sheet off with one hand and look down at where my other is tucked into my pajama shorts. There’s a wet stain on the front that’s yet more evidence of me being twenty-three and having a wet fucking dream.

Goddamn it.

I’m frozen for a moment, scared to withdraw my hand and also still trying to get my breathing back in control. I can’t even remember the last time I had a sex dream, and I have never, ever had one about another man.

Did I come because of him? Or was I just too far gone by the time I’d seen his face to stop? Whatever the reason, seeing his face didn’t turn me off. Didn’t make my orgasm any less intense. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten off so hard with my hand before.

I manage a long, steadying breath before I sit up, pull my spunk-covered hand out, and strip out of my shorts. I use them to clean up the mess and then pull some new ones on before heading out to the kitchen to wash my hands and grab some damn water.

Turns out having a wet dream over your new friend makes you thirsty.

The light is on, keying me into the fact that someone is still up, and when I enter the eat-in kitchen, I’m not surprised to find Marshall at the table, hunched over his books. He pulls all-nighters more than I can count.

“Hey,” he mutters, not even looking up.

I slink toward the sink to wash my hands. “What are you doing?”

“Reading up on the archeological evidence of Atlantis.”

I snort. “A myth?”

“It’s fascinating.”

“Know what else is fascinating?” I ask, filling up a glass of water.

“What?”

“Having a wet dream over Benny.”

Marshall pauses, and it takes him a second to look up. “Over … Benny?”

“Yup.”

“Right. Huh.” He scratches his pen against his temple. “How does that … work?”

“Beats me.” I take a long sip of water and lean back against the counter.

“So … are you queer now?”

“I don’t bloody know. Awake me has never gotten hard over a dude, and it’s not like he was in the whole dream, just right at the end …”

Marshall nods. “I have lots of experience with wet dreams.”

“You do?”

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