Page 193 of Callan

She doesn’t move.

I roll closer and press my body into her back.

She moans quietly, still asleep.

My hard meat begs for some relief.

This could be so much better with her awake, although that might happen when I enter her.

My fingers slide around her waist and up her stomach.

“Mmm…” she moans when I cup a boob and roll her nipple between my fingers.

She pushes her butt into my crotch, and I lower my erection and press against her opening.

She’s mine and only mine as she starts to grind her butt against me.

“Good girl…” I say, pressing myself against her.

I bite my lip hard, barely stopping myself from grunting.

She is warm and wet. I twitch and throb.

I have no idea how I’ll do this without jolting her out of her sleep.

“Don’t stop…” she says while I pace myself.

She must be dreaming. What else?

I nudge her to pull her right thigh a little higher, and she happily complies before I rest my hand on her hip and enter that tight, soft, wet center of hers.

She feels so damn good, still asleep or half asleep, her body welcoming me, her nipples so hard they could cut glass, her core quickly pulsing.

Time is not on my side, so I let my hunger go free and devour every moment I have with her. Every thrust and every drip of wetness making me slide in with ease.

Normally, I’d grip her neck and fuck her hard, but I don’t want to cross that line with her.

Although being restricted from doing things has never been my thing, in this case, it only makes me want her more.

She moans quietly, her eyes closed. I bet she’s sore from me.

Fleetingly, I ponder whether to pull out and blast my load on the sheet next to her. She feels so good I can’t tear away from her.

Between trying not to wake her and thrusting into her, I feel the oppression of tension before letting it all go, experiencing the best kind of relief.

My chest heaves as I fall to my back, sweat coating the back of my neck.

Surprisingly, she rolls to me, mumbling words I can’t understand.

I’m seriously late, and as much as I’d love to spend the day filling her up over and over again, I need to leave, or I’ll never step away from her again.

A smile clings to her lips, and I kiss her cheek before moving away.

Her hand comes to my forearm, stopping me.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, and I’m convinced she’s dreaming.

Still, my chest hurts.

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