Chapter 49
Chapter Forty-Nine
Todd
Happy Dreams?
I head back to my house and face-plant in my bed after remembering, barely, to set the alarm on my phone.
The good thing about being so exhausted from a day of hard physical labor—and an evening of fantastic sex—is that my mind has maybe thirty seconds to haphazardly spin about Mal and the situation before sleep sucks me under.
And I didn’t even wake up the way I frequently do, at least once, either to take a leak or because a noise pinged my sleeping brain in a way that told it to call in the day shift to check things out.
Usually, it’s the first.
Which means it’s difficult to process when I hear something and peel open my eyes to the room still cloaked in darkness and Mal standing at the end of my bed.
Naked.
I could’ve sworn I locked the back door but, then again, maybe I didn’t.
“You okay?” I manage. Because not only is he naked, he’s hard.
Without a word, he climbs up the end of the bed, and I am helpless to say or do anything to stop him.
Goddess help me, I don’t want to, either.
There’s only so much a man can take. Tonight showed me I need to nut up and have a real conversation with Jax—and Mal—about this situation.
He straddles me, and of course I’m fucking hard. This is Mal.
He smiles down at me and rises on his knees, notches my cock against his rim, and slooowly, like an answered prayer, impales himself.
I suck in a sharp breath. “Goddamn,” I mutter.
I should make him stop.
I need to make him stop.
But…
I can’t.
Then again, maybe this is the answer I was looking for the whole time. Maybe I can issue Jax my mea culpa for fucking Mal, but at least I can do it while telling him without any doubt that, yes, Mal is mine.
He grabs my hand and wraps it around his cock, and it’s hot, hard, completely engorged, and even larger than I remember. He keeps his hand wrapped around mine, squeezing, showing me what he needs even as he slowly rides me.
Fuck. Me.
“Baby, we need to—”
Mal lays a finger over my lips, still smiling, and his soft answer drifts into my mind.
“In the morning. Please? I need this, and you. Only you.”
Guess that answers my question.
Turns out I’m reeeaallly good with it.
I nod and suck his finger into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it even as I slowly stroke him. His eyes drop closed in pleasure. I release his digit with a soft pop and reach up to play with his nipples with my free hand.
I wouldn’t have thought he had the strength to even walk, much less fuck me, after how I wrung him out earlier. Then again, I thought I was too wiped out to do anything but sleep, so maybe that’s yet another sign, right? That we can’t keep our hands off each other?
This feels like the answer, like the right answer, the only answer, and I shove reality out of my mind to focus on him and this.
On us.
I don’t know how long he rides me, his cock hard and dripping pre-cum in my hand, edging me now, and I don’t have the heart to rush him.
No matter what date the paperwork says, this will be our wedding night.
Well, early morning.
But right now.
When I start to sit up, to flip him over, his hand squeezes mine and his free one splays over my chest, pinning me to the bed with strength I didn’t realize he had, although it shouldn’t surprise me.
Despite his deceptively lithe frame, he easily grabs hay bales and feed bags and slings them around like they weigh nothing.
Gotta admit, that’s kind of sexy too, that I know this man, that I know his secrets, and I’m the lucky bastard who gets to keep them for him.
He rides me and I stroke him, his hand on mine, and after a little while it feels like we’re completely attuned because I’m stroking him like I’d stroke myself, squeezing just under the head, the slight twist, and we slowly build it together.
I feel it instinctively, that there’s no leading or following in this moment; we’re in sync and making the climb together.
All while those gorgeous grey eyes stare down at me, that sexy smile on his face.
I don’t know how long it takes, but the closer I get, the more tension builds in him until, finally, I can’t hold it anymore.
“I’m close!” I gasp.
“Do it,” he whispers in my mind—
And I do. His ass clenches around my cock about the same time I feel him begin to come, and I pound him, furiously wanting him to come with me, wanting nothing more than to—
On my nightstand, my phone alarm goes off and my eyes pop open…
To find myself alone.
It’s 5:42, according to the clock on the cable box.
And my hand’s around my wilting dick, which is now slathered with my cum.
The last echoes of my orgasm still ripple through me as it finally slams into my brain what happened, even as I reach over with my non-cum-covered hand to shut off my alarm.
Motherfucker.
I’m no stranger to sexy dreams and even wet dreams, but it’s been probably forty years since I woke up to find my own hand on my cock and covered in my own spooge.
My head drops to my pillow as I groan.
Of course it was too good to be true. And I knew I locked my damned door, so that should’ve been my first clue. And others. Like that I felt paralyzed when I tried to sit up. That his cock felt like mine.
Fuuuck.
And the longer I lie there now…
The more I feel like crying.
Because it wasn’t real.
Meaning this one massive problem isn’t solved.
“Motherfucker!” I shout at my ceiling.
It’s going to be a long damned day.