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LINDY
* * *
It wasn’t until Dex James that I started having sex dreams.
I didn’t want to open my eyes because this dream felt too good. A warm hand on my thigh held me open, the other cupped my breast. And a mouth… a wicked, talented mouth was on my pussy.
No, this wasn’t a dream. This was sex reality.
“Mmmmmmmm,” I practically purred, writhing with pleasure.
“Morning, sugar.”
That deep voice. The rasp. This was really happening.
Dex James was having me for breakfast.
Yes. Yes!
“God, I love waking up like this,” I said, rolling my hips, trying to get more contact with my clit and his mouth. Although Dex never needed much help getting those two together.
“I love this pussy,” he growled, then did some kind of swirly thing with this tongue.
I smiled at his praise, tilted my head down and opened my eyes for the perfect sight. A tanned, heavily veined forearm led to fingers that were tugging my sensitive nipple. God, arm porn. Lower still, Dex’s head between my thighs.
He glanced up and pierced me with those dark eyes as he gave me one full lick.
I titled my head back, stared at the vaulted ceiling. For a moment, I forgot where we were.
Oh yeah. Las Vegas. The golf tournament. Dinner. Then…
“Dex,” I said, settling my hands on his head, tangling my fingers in his dark hair. Right there. Yes. Right. There.
“Hmm?” he asked, the vibrations right on my clit had me whimper.
It was really hard to talk. And think. And get tongue fucked. “I… what happened last night?”
He lifted his head, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His hair stuck up every which way. His eyes were heated, but sleepy. Whiskers covered his square jaw. “You don’t remember?”
“Don’t stop while I think about it,” I said, pushing his face beneath the edge of the sheet and back to my pussy.
“If you’re thinking, I’m doing it wrong,” he practically growled.
With that statement, he added fingers inside me to the mix and got me from sleeping to screaming fast enough to make him always feel ridiculously proud of himself.
He should be. When my screams turned to moans and then to gasping breaths, he crawled up my body, kissing his favorite spots on the way.
“I don’t remember how we got here,” I said with even more mental fog.
“Vegas or this suite?”
I pursed my lips, trying to think. It was pretty much impossible after what he just did. “After dinner last night is all a blur.”
“Um… yeah. We had a lot to drink.” He shifted and flopped down beside me. “I loaded us up on water and painkillers before we crashed.” He tipped his chin toward the bedside table where the empty plastic bottles were. “How are you feeling? Hopefully you aren’t hung over.”
He stretched his arms overhead and I watched every play of his muscles. He was hard beneath the low-slung sheet. The tenting was impossible to miss.
