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She giggled. "It's part of the charge. The way you do it, just because you wanted to do it, and then you go back to work, because you know whenever you're ready to . . . have me, I'll be ready for you. Because you know making me wait makes me crazier . . . and happier, all at once."
After that earth-shattering climax, she wasn't ready for another round yet, but calling her fantasy to life for Chris sent questing tendrils through her lower vitals, a promise that she could revive more quickly than expected.
He twisted a piece of her hair around his finger. "In my version, I'd make you take off your jeans and put you on my cock right then and there, with your ass still smarting. Because if my dick was hard and you're ours, I'd want you to know I expect you to take care of it then and there. That I'm not willing to wait another second to fuck you."
"Oh." She drew an unsteady breath. "Well, that works, too."
His lips pulled into a smile against her temple. "So what you're telling me is these fantasies of yours can be somewhat flexible?"
"Yes. For certain. Because when it's our fantasy, it can go in a lot more directions than when it's just mine."
"Got it." He pressed a kiss to her brow. "Okay, no more right now. My mindless dick is trying to flail back to life. It doesn't realize it needs a little longer recuperation time to keep from embarrassing itself. Don't snicker."
"I would never snicker."
"Uh-huh."
They were silent for a few moments, a companionable stillness. He caressed her hair, continued the stroke down her back and returned to her nape to repeat the motion, slow, methodical sweeps that helped her ease back from the pull of their shared fantasies and turn her mind to her own necessary recuperation time. She'd never needed sleep after sex. Like most of her gender, sex usually energized her, but apparently the emotional demands of her submissive desires were more capable of stealing her energy. A drifting postcoital doze sounded entirely appealing.
Her body was starting to melt into the angles of his, into the cradle of the mattress, when he spoke again. "We can move to your bed if you're more comfortable there."
"Your scent is on the sheets and mattress. You're all around me. I like that."
He went quiet, but his arms constricted around her, almost taking her ability to breathe, but she didn't mind. Snippets of everything they'd just shared drifted through her mind, and she wondered how long he'd been lonely, wanting this from her. From her and Geoff. Her heart broke a little, even as it also swelled with the potential for a happiness greater than she'd ever imagined. She tried to push away the thought that it was from great heights that great falls happened. She had two wonderful men who would catch her. But could they catch Chris, a big man with an even bigger heart, if he needed it?
*
Chris was a deep sleeper. Being sheltered in that subterranean repose had a restful effect on her, such that she stirred in the small hours of the morning without alarm, a slow slide into wakefulness that was filled with contentment. She blinked, her eyes growing accustomed to the shapes around her. Some of the candles were still lit. Since Chris's door was open, she knew Geoff was home, because his bedroom lamp was spilling dim light into the hallway. Which allowed her to see Geoff himself, standing in Chris's doorway.
He was leaning against the frame and, though he was silhouetted, she thought he was simply watching them. She'd turned on her opposite side in her sleep and Chris was spooned around her, arms folded over her waist and chest, holding her securely, but she was able to lift a hand, flutter her fingers in a gesture of silent greeting.
Geoff lifted his hand in answer, but then he straightened and pulled the door to a crack, hiding him from her view. She heard his soft footfalls return to his room and, a few minutes later, his light was doused.
She closed her eyes, drifted again. When she next woke, she estimated it was about forty-five minutes later. Her mind had been working while she slept, apparently, because she was wide-awake, with a clear purpose.
"Chris," she whispered. She twisted in his arms so she could kiss his mouth, nibbles that became deeper, more intent. She slowly brought him to wakefulness, and wondered if he had the same series of reactions she'd had when she first woke. Surprise to find her there, followed by intense contentment that she was.
Her lips parted to ask him, to tell him what other thoughts were flitting through her mind, but he took her words away. His hands slid down her body and he pushed her to her back, nudging her legs apart as he shifted over her. The look in his eyes when they latched on to hers reminded her of what he'd said when he'd thrown that curve into her fantasy.
Because if my dick was hard and you're ours, I'd want you to know I expect you to take care of it then and there. That I'm not willing to wait another second to fuck you.
He slid into her willing and ready body. She curled one hand around his neck while he tangled his fingers with her other one, holding her gaze as he set a slow, dreamlike rhythm that brought her to a gentle pinnacle, cutting her loose to spin as he released as well. She pressed her gasps into his shoulder, held him as he shuddered and finished. She was going to be so sore tomorrow for work, and Flo would tease her. She didn't mind.
As he slid off her, still holding her, she put her hand on his chest, heard the thunder of his heartbeat settling. Chris touched her face, traced it, and she pressed her mouth to the heel of
his hand. "I'll be back," she whispered.
She slipped off to the bathroom naked, his come trickling down her thighs with a welcome warmth. She took care of her needs and heated a washcloth. Coming back to him, she cleaned him by touch in the darkness. While she knelt over him, his hand slid down the curve of her back in sleepy appreciation as she performed the task. Setting the washcloth aside, she leaned down to speak against his lips.
"Come with me." She found his hand and tugged as she got to her feet. She could sense his questioning look, but he didn't disturb the silence. He would follow her, because he trusted her, the way she trusted his lead.
He only paused to retrieve a pair of his flannel shorts from his drawer and put them on. She would have preferred him to be as naked as he seemed to prefer her, because he certainly didn't object to her decision not to wear any clothes, but at least he'd only donned shorts. When she took him across the hallway, into Geoff's room, his hand tightened on hers, either in question or hesitation, she didn't know, but he didn't stop her.
Geoff slept in the middle of his king-sized bed as he always did. As Sam drew closer to the edge, she could see his features. His bedroom had a small square safety light plugged into the outlet, same as in Chris's room. Chris had installed them as a way to find the bathroom or a lamp switch if needed. After his Orlando trip, he'd brought Sam a Disney princess night light to replace hers.
He'd installed the lights for safety, rather than the lingering childhood need to be able to see through the dark. Though Sam thought no one really outgrew that feeling, an adult sometimes had a need to dream their dreams in the illusion of privacy an absence of light provided. As such, sometimes she took hers out of the socket to explore her somnolent fantasies, or to indulge the womb-like comfort darkness could offer.
She was glad Geoff hadn't done the same tonight, though, because it helped her get to him without tripping over the shoes he'd left by a side chair, probably to remind himself to polish them tomorrow. It also allowed her to see his face more clearly when she came to the side of his bed, Chris's hand still firmly enclosed in hers.
