Chapter 29 Soaked Before Sunrise #2
Am I? I'm not entirely sure anymore. I can’t really distinguish who’s even asking, but it doesn’t seem to be important right now.
Everything feels hazy, suspended in that space between sleeping and waking where reality blurs at the edges and anything seems possible.
Where dreams and truth tangle together until you can't tell which is which.
"Mmm," I manage, which isn't really an answer but is all my sleep-addled brain can produce.
His lips press against the top of my head—soft, gentle, testing.
Then they trail down, kissing along my temple, my cheek, the sensitive spot just below my ear that makes me shiver.
Each touch sends sparks skittering across my skin, makes my breath catch, makes me press back into the solid warmth of him.
This is real. Has to be real. Dreams don't feel this vivid, this detailed.
I can feel every point of contact between us—his chest against my back, his arm around my waist, his legs tangled with mine beneath the blanket. Can smell his scent stronger now that he's moving, that intoxicating blend of smoke and fir and something uniquely Theo.
Theo…my Theo…
His mouth finds my neck, lips and tongue exploring the column of my throat, and I moan before I can stop myself. The sound is breathy and desperate and entirely too revealing about exactly how affected I am by this.
He chuckles against my skin, the vibration traveling straight through me.
"You're definitely asleep."
"No," I mutter, even though I'm not entirely convinced myself. My eyes are still closed, my body still floating in that pleasant haze. "M'awake. Mostly."
His lips trail higher, finding the corner of my jaw, my cheek again, and then—oh god—he's claiming my mouth.
Kissing me properly, deeply, with an intensity that burns away any remaining fog of sleep. His tongue slides against mine, tasting, exploring, claiming in a way that makes my toes curl and my core clench with need.
I moan into his mouth, kissing him back with everything I have, pouring all the desperate want from my dream and my waking into this single point of connection. My hand comes up to grip his shoulder, nails digging into muscle, holding on like he's the only solid thing in a spinning world.
When we finally break apart, both of us breathing hard, I hear myself mutter, "Those are my lips."
His laugh is low and pleased, rumbling through his chest into mine.
"You're definitely asleep, Sugarplum."
"No," I insist again, but it comes out more like a whine than an argument. "'M awake. Just... warm. Comfortable. Maybe a little bit dying from want but definitely awake."
"Dying from want?" His voice drops even lower, takes on an edge that makes my pussy clench. "Should I be creative in waking you up properly?"
I try to form a coherent response, but all that comes out is something between a whimper and a moan.
My brain has officially given up on words in favor of just feeling.
His hand begins to roam, sliding from my waist up my side, tracing the curve of my ribs through the soft cashmere.
Then he discovers what I'd hoped he wouldn't notice in my sleep-addled state when I crawled into his bed—that there's nothing but skin beneath the sweater.
Theo goes completely still.
His hand pauses just below my breast, fingers splayed across my ribs. Then he growls—actually growls, low and possessive and so Alpha it makes my Omega hindbrain practically purr with satisfaction.
"So you really weren't wearing nothing, hmm?" The words rumble directly into my ear, his breath hot against my skin. His hand slides lower, beneath the hem of my sweater, calloused fingers meeting bare skin.
"Came into my room in just this sweater? No panties? No pants?"
I can't answer.
Can't do anything but gasp as his hand explores freely now, mapping the curve of my hip, the softness of my belly, moving lower with clear intent.
My legs part automatically, instinctively, giving him access even though we should probably talk about this, should probably establish boundaries or something responsible.
But I don't want responsible.
I want his hands on me. Want relief from this aching need that's been building since my dream, since before that if I'm honest with myself. Want everything I've been denying myself for years.
His hand cups my ass, squeezing gently, and I moan so loudly it echoes in the quiet room.
Then his fingers slide lower, between my legs, and we both groan when he discovers just how wet I am.
"Fuck, Reverie." His voice is strained, thick with want. "You're dripping. How long have you been like this?"
"Since the dream," I gasp out, pressing back into his touch, shameless in my need. "Since I woke up…cause of that dream…and well—"
His hand moves from my ass to cup my pussy, his palm pressing against my clit while his fingers tease my entrance. The contact makes me cry out softly like I can barely get the sound out, my hips rocking forward seeking more pressure, more friction, more anything.
He claims my lips again, swallowing my desperate sounds, kissing me hard and deep while his hand works between my legs. When he finally breaks the kiss, we're both panting.
"Do you want a little help with this?" he murmurs against my mouth.
"Mhmm." It's all I can manage, my pussy fluttering desperately around nothing, clenching and releasing in anticipation. "Please. Please, Theo, I'm—I need—"
"I know what you need, Sugarplum."
Then his fingers slide inside me and I actually see stars. Two thick digits pushing into my slick heat, filling me in a way that's perfect and not nearly enough all at once. My back arches, pressing my ass back against him, and I can feel his hard cock through his boxers, thick and ready.
But right now, this is about me.
About the relief I'm desperate for. About these fingers curling inside me, finding that spot that makes me gasp and clench around him.
"That's it," he murmurs, his mouth finding my neck again, kissing and sucking marks I'll definitely see tomorrow. "Let that pussy milk up what it wants. Let me feel you come apart."
His thumb finds my clit, circling with just the right amount of pressure while his fingers work inside me. I'm making sounds I've never made before—breathy moans and desperate whimpers and his name falling from my lips like a prayer.
The pleasure builds fast, ruthless, a runaway train screaming toward the brittle edge of what I can take. My belly is tight as a drum, every muscle tense with anticipation, my mind flickering between lucid shock and delirium as Theo’s fingers work me with merciless precision.
I can feel the callouses on his knuckles, the strength and intent behind every slow curl, the way his body cages mine while my own hips squirm and buck in search of more, always more.
He doesn’t let up. If anything, he slows just enough to make me whimper, his fingers buried to the knuckle as his thumb strokes lazy, taunting circles around my clit.
It’s not enough. It’s too much.
I don’t know which.
My skin is burning, every nerve in my body raw and ringing, every sense flooded by the scent of his skin, the damp heat building between my thighs, the roughness of his breath as he mutters filth into my ear.
“Theo—” I choke out, voice ragged, “I’m—oh fuck, I’m—”
His hand never falters.
He keeps working me, thumb grinding against my clit in perfect, cruel circles, fingers rhythmically fucking into me until I’m right at the edge, hovering over it, everything going white at the corners of my vision.
"Come for me," he commands, his voice pure Alpha authority. "Come on my fingers, Reverie. Show me how sweet you are."
His thumb presses harder, his fingers curl deeper, and I shatter.
The orgasm crashes through me like a tidal wave, stealing my breath and my vision and every coherent thought. I clench around his fingers, my pussy fluttering and contracting, slick gushing over his hand as pleasure rolls through me in waves that seem to go on forever.
He works me through it, his fingers gentling but never stopping, drawing out every last tremor until I'm boneless and gasping and completely wrecked.
When I finally come back to myself, I'm shaking. My whole body trembles with aftershocks, my thighs clenched tight around his hand, my breath coming in short desperate pants.
Theo pulls his fingers out slowly, carefully, and I whimper at the loss.
Then he brings his hand up where I can see it in the dim light—his fingers glistening with my slick, wet and shiny with evidence of what he just did to me.
He brings them to his mouth, maintaining eye contact as he sucks them clean, his eyes rolling back slightly as he tastes me.
The sight is so obscenely hot I feel my pussy clench again, ready for more despite just coming harder than I ever have in my life.
"Fuck," he breathes, pulling his fingers free with a wet pop. "You taste even better than last time."
Then he offers those same fingers to me, pressing them against my lips.
"Want a taste? Want to know how sweet you are for me?"
I open my mouth automatically, taking his fingers onto my tongue, sucking and licking the remnants of my own release.
It's intimate and filthy and exactly right. I moan around his digits, hollowing my cheeks, giving him a preview of exactly how enthusiastically I can suck.
"Fuck." His voice is strained, his cock hard and pressing insistently against my ass. "You're going to milk my cock just as hard, aren't you?"
I release his fingers with a wet sound, turning my head to look at him over my shoulder. My face must be flushed, my lips swollen from kissing, my eyes dark with renewed want.
"Mhmm," I agree, reaching back to palm his erection through his boxers. "Want you inside me. Need you inside me. Please?"
He doesn't make me ask twice.
In one smooth, devastating motion, he shoves his boxers down and positions himself at my entrance—and then he's pushing inside me, thick and hard and filling me so perfectly I forget how to breathe.