Page 37 of Take Me to Church
I take a shaky breath. “Can I tell you something?”
Christian rests his hand against the back of my head, cradling it in his palm. “You can tell me anything.”
I look up at him, barely able to make out his features in the darkness of the room. “If the opportunity comes up, I’m okay with you killing my sister’s husband too.”
14
CHRISTIAN
WAKING UP WITH a hard-on isn’t usually an issue. Not that it doesn’t happen, there’s just never anyone else around to witness it. Not over the last year anyway.
But even before then, any witnesses knew what they were getting into, and normally appreciated the events following it.
That’s not the case this morning.
As far as I know, Lydia’s never touched a dick, let alone had one shoved against her ass as she sleeps. And even though she’s the one who found her way into my bed, the situation feels all kinds of inappropriate. I carefully roll to my back, stifling a groan as I peel myself away from the warmth and softness of her body. The loss of pressure and contact makes the ache in my cock worse and I lie still for a moment, trying to figure out some way to rub one out before she wakes up.
Suddenly Lydia pulls in a deep breath and rolls toward me. She slings one bare leg across my body, planting her thigh right against the line of my suffering dick, before letting out a content sounding sigh.
She has me pinned in place, making it next to impossible to escape without waking her, which would give her an up-close-and-personal experience with the struggle I’ve got going on.
Because this isn’t just your run-of-the-mill morning wood. This is tied directly to the dream preceding it. A dream involving the same sweet thighs that are all but wrapped around me now.
Lydia takes another deep breath, the kind that tells me she’s not sliding back into sleep but rousing from it. I don’t have much longer before she’ll be fully awake, and aware that there’s something prodding at the tempting curve of her thigh.
Slowly working one hand under the covers, I carefully wrap my fingers around the soft skin just above her knee. I gently start to lift her leg away from my body, trying to work just enough room to slide away. No longer pinned in place, my dick rises and follows the warmth of her body, continuing to press against her inner thigh. I’ve almost got enough clearance when Lydia makes a soft sound, instantly heating my blood and sending what’s left of it racing south.
She wiggles beside me, inching a little closer until every bit of her is pressed against my side, including the object of my most recent dream’s obsession.
She makes another breathy, whimpery noise and then does something that stops me in my tracks.
The first time she grinds against my thigh I think it’s simply her trying to get closer. Maybe she’s caught in the throes of the same kind of nightmare that brought her to my bed in the first place, and she’s simply seeking comfort and safety.
But then it happens again, and this time there’s no mistaking the needy way she rubs her cotton covered pussy against me. I clench my teeth, trying to ignore the damp heat of her cunt as she finds a rhythm, unknowingly using my body as she dreams about God knows who.
Lydia’s been in Memphis for a year. That’s plenty of time to lose more than a little of her innocence. Hell, maybe she has a boyfriend who’s shown her all the things the IGL never wanted her to know. The possibility stabs at me, a knife of unreasonable jealousy that keeps cutting.
Until—
“Christian.” My name passes through her lips on a hushed whisper, soft and sweet, and the best fucking thing I’ve ever heard.
And also the worst since I know she didn’t mean for me to hear it. Lydia’s dreams should be her own, so even though knowing I’m a part of them turns my already suffering cock to stone, I have to stay the course.
I hook my foot over the edge of the mattress, intending to use it to pull myself to the edge. But the second my body starts to shift away from hers, Lydia holds me tighter, her body locked around mine. “Don’t go.”
Her words are louder this time and less slurred with sleep. Clear enough I can almost make myself believe she’s awake.
But she’s not. The long length of her lashes rests against her cheeks, trapping her in a dream I wish I could see.
I try again to detangle myself from her, knowing there aren’t many men in their right mind who would do what I’m doing. Which is a shame. But again, I barely shift before Lydia’s foot hooks around my leg, pinning her body back against me.
“Christian, I need—” She makes a frustrated sound as she continues fighting for the friction she’s seeking.
I know what she needs, and I wish like hell I could give it to her, but that won’t happen. Not now. Not until I know she really means—
Lydia’s eyes flutter open, her blown out pupils locking straight on my face. She inhales sharply, throat working as she swallows hard. I expect her to be angry. Pissed I’ve let things get this far. At the very least embarrassed and shy.
But she doesn’t pull away from me. Doesn’t glare at me in accusation. The pink tip of her tongue darts across her lower lip before she pinches it between her teeth and rolls her hips, making another one of those unbearable sounds that test my sanity and my willpower.
