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Ariel: I want it to be pitch-black. I want to be toyed with. I want to be a little bit afraid when I come to consciousness, but to be reassured by a kiss to my cheek then fucked to within an inch of my life, all while barely being awake. I want to come again then fall asleep with him still inside me. I want him to use me like that.
And just in case I was under any illusion of her thoughts, she sent a fast follow-up.
Ariel: And by him, I mean you. You asked, so deal with the answer. Now you know what I want.
On my still-open laptop, a message dinged.
I spared it just enough attention to read the words. It was a report on the car Larson had stolen and crashed into Ariel’s Mini.
I opened it. Tried to read it. Blinked hard and tried again.
The car had been found burned out far to the south, no fingerprints possible from it, and its smashed-up state not helping to link it to the previous accident, yadda, yadda.
Nothing new to think about.
I shut down the laptop, turned off the lamp, and stole downstairs. Outside Ariel’s door, I paused.
A buzzing sound came from within.
Holy fuck. Unless she’d taken an electric toothbrush out of the bathroom, that could only be one thing.
And this time, I hadn’t been invited.
In the bedroom next door, I shut myself in, making sure to slam the door loud enough for her to hear. But try as I might, I couldn’t pick up any further sounds from her.
I was hard.
Out of my mind with need.
So I sat in the fucking dark and waited.
An hour later, I released the hold on myself, jumping to my feet and driven by the request she’d made of me.
I left my bedroom and entered hers, snicking the door quietly shut behind me and engaging the lock. Velvety blackness surrounded me, and nothing came from the bed but Ariel’s soft, even breaths.
She slept.
It was my job to wake her up in the best possible way while acting in the worst.
Enclosed in my fist was a keyring torch. I clicked it on.
White light chased long shadows to the corners of the room, highlighting the edges of furniture and the still figure under the blanket.
Keeping my gaze on her, I prowled over.
Removed my shirt and tossed it to the floor.
Ariel lay on her side, facing away from me, her tumble of dark curls spread over the white pillow and her face pale under my light. With infinite care not to wake her, I plucked the blanket from her sleeping form and drew it down and off her body.
I thickened in my boxers.
My dick hadn’t calmed since her texts and now leaked for her.
My gaze travelled up her legs and to the skimpy sleep shorts she’d chosen. Lacy ones. The edge cut across the curve of her backside, disappearing up to a narrow slice of material that barely concealed the place between her legs.
Her equally scant strappy top had ridden up to expose the dip of her waist, though her tits were hidden by her arm and her position.
She’d chosen her sleepwear with me in mind.
