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It’s tempting to stay here, stretch out on the cushions, but it won’t be very comfo
rtable, and Riddick’s back won’t thank him in the morning.
So I get up, lifting Brylee to her feet, ignoring her sleepy protests. I put the grid in front of the fire, have a quick look around to make sure all doors and windows are closed, then sweep her off her feet and into my arms.
I like doing this. She doesn’t even squeal this time. She just laughs, a soft sound, and holds on to me.
“Right this way to your lodgings, sir,” I tell Riddick, who’s stood up and has been observing all this with his arms folded over his chest and that faint smile lingering. “Anything else you might need?”
“At last,” he says, falling in step with me, his smile turning wicked. “I thought you’d never ask. As a matter of fact, I do have one or two requests.”
“Your wish is my command,” I tell him and suppress a shiver, aware of how close that is to the truth I’m trying to hide.
***
My bed is pretty big, but not made for three people to lie on it comfortably. Despite the lack of space, I sleep surprisingly well, waking up only twice, once to push Riddick’s arm out of my face, and the second because Brylee was lying fully on top of me, and I couldn’t breathe.
Pleasure seeps through my dream. It’s a nice dream where I’m lying in bed, and a young pretty doctor with copper curls is smiling at me, telling me I’ll be just fine. The male gray-eyed nurse at her side nods encouragingly, and puts his hand on my dick.
“Relax,” he says, “and let us take care of you.”
The pleasure ratchets up, and I arch up, my hands clenching in the covers, trying to hold on to something.
“Easy now,” he says, and I blink my eyes open to pale morning light.
“What the fuck?” It’s my dream, but twisted, the gray-eyed nurse leaning over me, the pretty doctor grinning from my other side. Sick dread unfurls in my stomach.
A relapse. I throw an arm over my eyes, not ready to face whatever is going on. Surgery? Am I in hospital? The good news was a fucking dream, now I woke up, and—
“Ryan?”
I lift my arm just enough to see, memory flooding back. Dammit, it’s Riddick, not a nurse. And the doctor is Brylee.
We’re at the lake house. We came here for the weekend. We fell asleep together.
And they’re giving me worried looks.
“Are you in pain?” she asks, frowning. “You were calling out our names.”
I was?
She’s leaning over me, and just now I realize she’s wearing a tiny lacy top that barely covers her tits and matching panties in white and pink. Her ginger curls spill over her shoulders like metal. Her mouth is still soft from sleep.
She looks…edible. Lickable. Like Christmas candy.
“Hey, man.” Riddick leans over me, dark brows knit. “Say something. You scared us.”
“I’m fine. What happened?”
He shakes his head. “What happened,” he says gravely, “is that you have a bad case of morning wood.”
Laughter bubbles up my throat. I stop it before it spills out and turns crazed. “I see.”
Brylee smooths her hand over my hard-on, making me gasp.
“It looks like a torpedo,” she says.
My shoulders are shaking. Man, I really hope it is an attack of laughter. “Want to play with my torpedo?”
