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12
Beau
Fuck.
For the last ten minutes at least, Gigi’s legs and body had been shifting around in the most tantalizing way ever. Her breathing was heavy and deep as her thighs rubbed against each other. All of this, she did in her sleep.
Fuck me that was sexy as hell to watch. She wasn’t wearing a bra, so I could see her hard nipples poking through her night shirt. None of this was doing anything to help my morning hard-on go away.
What it made me want to do was rip down her tiny shorts and what I imagined was the sexiest thong ever made, then taste her pussy. Right now, I wanted to see if it tasted as sweet as her lips.
Honest to God, from the sound of it, she was already halfway to one heck of an orgasm. If I put my mouth to her core, I bet she’d explode on impact.
Her chest rose and fell in short gasps before she mumbled a soft, “Oh God, Beau, yes. Please, yes. Right there.”
Ice water flowed through my veins. She’d said my name? I was the one in her sex dream? Christ. Did she have a crush on me?
Damn it, if so, that would make this arrangement even more difficult than it already was. In no way was I ever going to start a relationship with a twenty-two year old. She was too young.
Plus, we had to keep up this ruse for at least a season. My average for relationships was more like a week. Being forced into this situation was one thing. Doing it with an ex would be impossible.
And guaranteed—even if I were able to go there—Gigi would soon become an ex. Relationships were not my thing. I was thirty-five years old and the longest I’d ever been involved with someone was a whole, entire month.
And that ended pretty fucking badly.
No way in hell was I going to get involved with a twenty two year old, only to have to break it off in a week when I realized—and I always did—we were not meant to be.
“Beau, oh God, Beau, please,” Gigi said, a desperate plea to dream me to do something likely fantastic. Probably the same thing that real life me wanted to do right now.
Something I would never do with her.
I couldn’t.
“Ah, oh God, ah,” she moaned, squeezing her legs together as she gasped for breath.
Fuck.
She was coming.
In her sleep.
Thinking of me.
My damn balls ached even harder at the sound of her orgasming. I wanted to be right there with her.
Gigi’s body stilled and I took that as my signal to close my eyes and pretend I was sleeping. This was one conversation I did not want to have.
She shifted her body and my leg instinctively moved with her to keep contact. Shit.
“Are you awake?” she asked, her voice husky and laced with sleep.
I stretched my arms above my head in a loud yawn. “I am now that you moved,” I lied, trying not to look directly at her.
“Was I talking in my sleep?” she asked, still breathless from her orgasm.
“No idea. I didn’t hear anything,” I lied for the second time that morning and I’d only been awake for ten minutes.
She sat up, pulling the blanket with her. “I can’t believe they’re still sleeping. Those rotten creatures kept us up most of the night and now they’re no worse for wear,” she said, slumping into the back of the couch.
