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16
The light click of the door as he closes it wakes me.
Alexander goes into the bathroom to take a shower. I try to fall back asleep but I’m suddenly wide awake.
He’s not in there for long. The door opens and he climbs into bed next to me, keeping a distance between us.
I don’t dare move. I’m frozen in place, but I can feel the heat of his body. It’s strangely…comforting.
His effect is seeping into me like a physical force. A warmth settles, that awareness of being watched. It sprouts slow-moving tendrils that bloom through my body like hothouse flowers of sweet, ripe heat.
Whoa.
A warm pulse centers in my clit and I can feel a slickness inside. My body is flaring with soft, tingling need.
My eyes are closed. My mind is quiet. But my lust is vibrantly rampaging through my core, igniting me from my thighs to my belly. I’m so wet, I can feel the trickle of moisture on the high skin of my inner thigh.
I’m listening to his breathing, which evens and deepens. Only then to I dare to very carefully turn, stealing a glance at him in the moonlight.
His black hair is still damp, sticking up in silky disarray. His brawny shoulders are gracefully sculpted. Muscular in a way that’s somehow ideal, like a work of art just crawled into bed with me.
I’m surprised to see that he has a tattoo on his chest. Of a dragon. I don’t know why, but this…charms me. Alexander Maddox has layers I didn’t know about. Hidden depths to his character that intrigue me.
His face is peaceful. He looks younger in his sleep. Relaxed. That visceral, male aggression that clings to him is softer now, but the innate arrogance is somehow still there. In the curve of his mouth. In his strong features and the stripes of his eyebrows.
I watch him sleep for a few minutes, fascinated by his mesmerizing maleness.
I could touch him, with feather-light strokes across his shoulders. I could kiss his perfect mouth, like I did earlier, when we were performing for the crowd. But this time, I could do it for real. And not because we have anything to prove.
His chest is dusted with dark hair. The quilted six-pack of his abs is defined. A tantalizing trail of dark hair disappears under the sheet.
It’s then that he stirs. He doesn’t wake, but his movement causes the covers to slip lower and…holy shit.
I can only stare for a few seconds. His cock is…huge. Like, freaking gigantic. And hard, even in his sleep. It’s sticking out of his boxers and it’s…wet. Glistening with moisture at the round tip.
I wasn’t expecting it to be so…appealing. So freaking mouth-watering. I have the craziest urge to lick it.
Do it. Lick that bead of wetness. Drink it. Suck on that giant manhood.
Holy hell, my inner sex goddess is totally out of control. I mentally discipline her by turning and laying on my side again, facing away from him, grasping for self-control.
This is a fake date, I remind myself. Fake. Not real.
But my body has a mind of her own. I’m so freaking turned on, I squirm a little, trying to deal with it. My pussy is throbbing. My thighs are wet. My see-through nightie is bunched up around my waist.
I close my eyes and try to meditate. To put the loudly echoing image of his giant glistening cock out of my mind.
I take a deep breath. And another one.
That’s better.
But my back arches a little, almost involuntarily, like it’s seeking him.
Alexander sighs, and moves. He turns, laying on his side. Facing me.
I freeze.
Oh god oh god. Is he awake?
