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“Oh.” He lay back down on his side. “Sorry. You know it just happens. It’ll go away. You don’t have to worry.”
She ground her teeth together. He didn’t get it, and she didn’t want to explain it.
Then he did get it. “Oh.”
Seventeen
Billy might be half-asleep still, but he wasn’t an idiot. If he was getting hard from being next to Jenna, she might be feeling the same kind of things. He’d picked up on the edge in her voice, and at first diagnosed it as worry. But it wasn’t that. It was sexual frustration.
He could help her with that, if she let him.
It was so dark in the room that he could barely make out her body, even though she was right up against him. The darkness made it feel as if they were somewhere else, in some other dreamworld where reality didn’t quite reach.
“Jenna, let me…” He abandoned words and used touch instead. He skimmed his fingers across her body, from hipbone to mound to hipbone. She was still wearing her yoga pants, so he didn’t touch skin. But even the contours of that part of her body made his cock tighten. Usually, he studiously avoided even looking at her hips and ass and other potentially arousing parts. Let alone touch them…
She sighed. “We…”
“Shhh. It’s okay. This doesn’t count. We’ve been carried off to another world, didn’t you know? There’s no rules here. No gravity. Nothing that happens here will carry over out there.”
“That’s…” He knew she wanted to say “that’s ridiculous,” but she let it go. She must really want this. And he wanted it for her. He wasn’t worried about himself. He’d take care of himself in the shower later. He didn’t expect her to suddenly want to have sex with him. That would be going too far, even in this dreamworld of a hotel bedroom.
But giving her an orgasm, relieving the frustration he heard in her voice, that would be his pleasure and honor.
He felt her legs fall open. A sign. A big old welcome sign.
Almost holding his breath, he trailed his fingers across her belly, where her shirt had ridden up, and under her yoga pants to the soft nest of silky hair. She let out a long breath and her body relaxed under his touch.
He didn’t say a word, didn’t make a sound. Didn’t want to break this magical, unexpected mood. Maybe he was still dreaming. It was possible. He’d been dreaming of her before he’d woken up and caught her rolling away from him. In the dream, she’d smiled at him the way she used to, as if he was an entire galaxy of stars rolled up in one man. She’d blown him a kiss and he’d dropped to his knees…
Between her legs she was so hot, so juicy, how was she not spontaneously combusting? Silky moisture clung to his fingers as they glided through her folds and across her clit. The muscles of her thighs flexed and then relaxed. She made a sound that went right to his heart because he’d never thought he’d hear it again. That little squeak that held all her need and lust and sex-want in one little sound.
He knew just how to stroke her. That muscle memory hadn’t gone anywhere. But he also knew that it wasn’t always the same. He always had to pay attention to what she needed in this particular moment. Which was why he shoved aside everything else and lost himself in her sighs and her movements. Her clit pulsed hot against his finger. Plump and swollen, it begged him for more. Should he give her more? Like, go inside her with his fingers, make them into a hook, find that one spot, finger-fuck her until she screamed…
No. The invisible barrier flashed in his mind like an orange construction cone. Don’t go there. Not inside. Too intimate. Not yet. Stick to this, to this glorious slippery flesh that got wetter and hotter as he stroked and teased and…
She convulsed in a sharp spasm of an orgasm, her body pulsing again and again. He held his grip on her pussy. One wrong move and he knew her orgasm would slip away, turn from ecstasy to disappointment.
He never wanted to disappoint her again. Not in bed and not out of it.
The orgasm didn’t want to let her go. Or maybe she didn’t want it to end. Together, his hand on her sex, they rode her climax as far as it would go, until she was limp and quivering and gasping for breath.
He drew his hand away and breathed in the unique intoxicating scent of her on his fingers. She smelled the same, and yet a little different. Like wine that had matured just a little more. Was that a ridiculous thought, that he could discern a difference years later? Not for a connoisseur, it wasn’t. He knew his Jenna.
For instance, he knew that she was going to have regrets. She’d worked so hard to keep things drama-free between them. They both had. Now she’d be worried that they’d thrown it all down the drain for a moment of pleasure.
Could he preempt her second-guessing spiral before it started?
“What if I was still asleep, and everything that just happened was a dream?” he said softly.
“Hm?”
Maybe he’d called it wrong. She didn’t sound upset. She sounded very, very satisfied.
“Thought experiment. That’s all.”
From her happily splayed position, she rolled onto her side to face him. “I can’t think right now. I feel too good. Thank you.” She meant it too. There was real gratitude in her voice. “I want you to feel the same—”
“It’s okay. There’s no need. I just wanted to take care of you.”
