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“Even Gamble’s woman was there, and she has more reason not to step foot on campus than—”
I shoved abruptly to my feet, cutting into his tirade. I already knew he wasn’t a Cora fan; I didn’t want to listen to him bashing her a second longer. “You’re taking care of the dishes this morning, right?” I asked. “Good.” I walked out of the kitchen, leaving my stunned roommate gaping after me.
I was already a confused bundle of nerves; I didn’t need him irritating the situation. It didn’t seem possible that someone could be upset with his girlfriend as well as worried about whatever secret she was keeping from
him, all the while feeling guilty for having dreams about another girl. But there I was, experiencing something I was certain no one had ever experienced before.
When Cora called later in the day, I couldn’t even talk to her because I didn’t want her to hear all the guilt, upset, and worry in my voice. But then I grew even guiltier for avoiding her, so I called her back two minutes later.
She sounded tired, which made my guilt explode. I asked if she wanted me to come over and take care of her until I had to go into work that evening, but she said she and Zoey were going to spend the evening together. Girl stuff, she claimed. So I stayed away.
Monday progressed painfully. I spent extra time in the weight room that morning so I had to hurry through my shower. My hair was still wet when I rushed into art class. That was one miserable hour...and not because of my hair. When the scent of Zoey’s shampoo wafted my way as soon as I sat down, I hardened my jaw and tried to breathe through my clenched teeth and not my nose. Then she went and smiled at me and told me hello, and congratulated me on the team’s win. The entire time, I kept picturing that dream. The way her lips had pursed before she’d told me to lick her between the legs, the way her eyes had softened with need. I couldn’t get that freaking dream out of my head.
What was worse, I had it again Monday night. Twice. Her and Cora both crawling all over me, kissing and licking things they shouldn’t, taking me to new heights of pleasure. I won’t even go into how sinfully, wickedly, deliciously awful both Tuesday and Wednesday nights were.
By Thursday, even my co-workers noticed something was bothering me. Ten had actually been giving me my distance. But it only took Pick one glance when he’d been strolling out from the office before we opened to glance my way at the bar and slow to a stop.
“You doing okay, Hamilton?”
I nodded and mumbled something about being fine as I kept my attention on taking chairs off tables. Pick glanced toward Ten, who shook his head no, and I clenched my teeth, wishing my roommate would mind his own stupid business. Because of his headshake, Pick didn’t let the issue drop.
Moving closer, he talked in a lower, more confidential tone. “What’s going on? You got bags under your eyes. You been getting enough sleep?”
I shrugged, still not looking at him. “I’ve had a couple disturbing dreams,” I admitted reluctantly, forgoing to mention that I would then wake up and touch myself, each and every time, only feeling worse after each episode.
“Nightmares?” Pick asked, his brow knitted with concern.
He’d only been my boss for a few months. Before that, we were co-workers. But for as long as we’d worked together at Forbidden, he’d been the protector of the group, the paternal figure, though he couldn’t even be five years older than the rest of us.
“Not quite nightmares,” I admitted. “Just...things I shouldn’t be dreaming about.”
Pick understood immediately. His eyes sharpened as he lifted an eyebrow. “Or people you shouldn’t be dreaming about?”
My face heated, and I wanted to fist my hand and hit something: a wall, the table, myself. I hated not being able to keep a straight face. Blushing had to be the freaking bane of my existence.
With a chuckle, Pick slapped me companionably on the back. Then he called across the bar to where Asher was sweeping up something from underneath a table in the corner. “Hey, Hart. You ever dream about a woman you shouldn’t?”
Asher glanced up, looking surprised to be singled out. But then he grinned and shrugged. “I dreamt about your woman last week. She went down on me while I was singing on stage, and man...she had a sweet mouth.”
My jaw fell open. I couldn’t believe he’d so readily admitted such a thing...and to Pick’s face. But Pick just chuckled and grinned approvingly. “Hell, yes she does.”
I glanced between him and Asher, wondering why he wasn’t more upset.
“I can do one better than that,” Ten spoke up. “I had a dream once of Pick’s woman going down on Lowe’s woman.”
Mason popped up from behind the bar to scowl at him, but Ten just lifted his eyebrows in challenge. “What? They may be cousins, but as close as those two are, you know they’ve at least kissed before.”
Mason and Pick exchanged a knowing glance, to which Ten went crazy. “Holy shit, they have, haven’t they? Fucking awesome. Did you guys watch?”
“We’re not saying anything,” Pick said, only to let out a huge grin.
“Well, hell,” Noel spoke up from behind the bar. “Now I’m going to dream about those two ganging up on Aspen and going down on her.”
As the guys laughed and started mixing and matching up which one of their women would star in their next wet dream, I shook my head. “So all of you have dreamed about...threesomes?”
Everyone stopped talking to stare at me as if I was insane. “We’re guys,” Mason finally answered. “So...yeah. Pretty much. Why wouldn’t we?”
I blushed, not knowing how to answer that. I’d never had one of those dreams until this week. I had no idea they were supposed to be normal?
