Page 64 of Overtime
I could get used to this. Sleeping with him at my side. Knowing he’ll be there in the morning. It’s one side of domesticity I don’t find entirely frightening.
THIRTY-THREE
Joss
I’m half-awakewhen I feel a gust of cold air over my body, and I reach blindly for the covers to pull them back over me. Instead, my palm comes in contact with a warm bicep, and I lose the edges of reality that were seeping in. I fall back into the dream I was having. One where Colt was fucking me senseless on every surface in his house and during the breaks in between we eat white chocolate raspberry cake—the one dessert I can actually make—and watch episodes of chateau restoration shows. I really need to make that dream a reality and soon.
Dream Colt’s mouth returns to my nipple, his tongue sliding over the piercing there and I arch my back to meet him as his other hand palms my right breast, his thumb stroking over the matching piercing. I spread my legs to accommodate him, and his cock slides between my thighs, grazing me through the cotton of my panties, and I hook one leg around him to urge him on—willing them to mysteriously disappear as they usually do in my dreams.
“Oh my god… How are you this hard constantly? You’re like magic,” I mumble as one of my hands creeps up his arm, over his shoulder and my fingers drift over the nape of his neck.
A laugh rumbles out of him, and I frown at his amusement. It’s an honest question, frankly. I know he’s young and athletic and all the things that should make that easier, but we’d already fucked half a dozen times. He should be nearly spent. Another laugh comes, and apparently, I mumbled that last part out loud to him too.Whoops.
It doesn’t deter him though; his hands and his tongue are focused on turning me into a puddle. I bury my fingers in his hair as his tongue travels down the center of my body. A soft moan escapes me as he kisses me through the fabric of my panties, and I curse the fact that I’m not already naked for him.
“Tell me to take them off,” he says quietly, nipping at the inside of my thigh. “Let me eat you for breakfast.”
“Okay.” Because who the hell am I to argue with that?
“Are you awake?”
“Hmm,” I mutter because barely opening my eyes I can tell it’s still dark outside. No one should be awake at this hour. Not even our dream selves, and I turn to go back to sleep.
“Joss…” His tone is more insistent.
“Hmm.”
“Tell me it’s okay to take them off, Dollface. I wanna know you’re awake enough.”
I frown because this man still doesn’t understand the lack of bounds to my obsession.
“Take them off. Rip them. Burn them. Whatever you want. Just fuck me, Farm Boy,” I mumble, running my foot along his side.
A laugh rumbles out of him again, vibrating against me, and his fingers slide under the band and tug downward as he moves with them. He slides back up the bed then, hooking one of my legs over his shoulder as he kisses his way up the inside of my thigh. The warmth of his body against mine and the gentle way he touches me sends me drifting back to the edge of deep sleep, where this dream meets the dark oblivion of nothingness.
Except then I feel his mouth on me, soft exploratory kisses at first and then a full long drag of his tongue over my clit that tears me out of the abyss I’d been drifting into. I thread my fingers through his hair and rock my hips up to meet his face. The real version of him had been amazing at this, and I’d invested time and effort into making him damn near perfect. I just had to hope the dream version could live up to the real thing.
“Oh fuck. You’re so fucking good at that.”
“I had a good teacher,” he mumbles, and I feel two fingers slide inside me as he swirls his tongue over my clit. My nerve endings light up under his touch and flood with warmth, so much that it takes me out of the dream again. I want to cry because I want to stay in this one forever.
I open my eyes, blinking just as he starts to suck on my clit, and I gasp loudly, nearly choking on the sound. My fingers tighten in his hair as I try to reason with this version of reality. Because apparently, I’mnotdreaming.
“Holy fuck, Colt.” I barely get his name out before he’s bringing another moan out of me, his tongue and fingers relentless as I writhe underneath him searching for more and less all at the same time.
I try to breathe, think, reason—anything resembling normal function and I can’t. All I can feel or see is him as he brings me closer to the edge. His hands knead my thighs and ass as he pulls me toward him, and I turn into a mess underneath his touch.
I’ve never come so fast in my life, but he’s utterly fucking perfect in his execution—of his technique, my clit, and my fucking sanity. I have to grab the extra pillow when I finally come because I remember we’re in Violet’s house.
I have no idea where they are in the house at this hour, and I doubt they want to hear me. And while it’s not exactly a secret that we’re fucking—I don’t want to rob Colt of the chance to keep it a secret that we’re doing it in their house if it’s what he wants.
When I can finally breathe again, I pull the pillow away and look up to see him laughing at me, kissing his way up my stomach.
“That is one way to wake a girl up in the morning.”
“I thought it might make you less grumpy.” His eyes drift over my face before he kisses me, and I wrap my legs around his waist.
“Fuck me, and we can both be less grumpy,” I mumble against his lips as I kiss him back.
