Sleeper

by Loring, Kayley

  I let the minivan in the next lane get in ahead of me.

  By the time I’ve turned onto Shane’s driveway, I have convinced myself that I should just tell him we need to chill.

  By the time I’ve parked the Volvo in the garage, I am thinking it would be a good idea to tell him that it may have been a mistake, what happened last night, but it was my fault.

  By the time I’ve opened the door to the house, I am sure of it.

  But as soon as I step inside, Shane’s arm is around my waist and he’s pulling me to him.

  “Fucking hell, I’ve been dying for you, Willa.”

  My eyelids instinctively close and my hands reach for his face.

  He breathes in the skin of my neck, massaging my hips, sliding his hands up and down my waist. His hands, oh God, his hands. He touches me like he owns me, and I want to give him everything.

  His hair is damp, and he’s wearing an unbuttoned shirt and jeans. I’m pressed up against his warm, bare chest. This is heaven.

  I’m smelling cologne on him for the first time. Dear God, it’s a Giorgio Armani absolu. Top notes—bergamot, marine notes, something fruity. Middle notes—hints of lavender and rosemary. Base notes—oh fuck it, he smells hot. He just smells hot. I want to eat him up.

  I pull my head back so I can see his handsome face. His eyes are hooded, blue like the late-afternoon sea, his jaw tense. So serious. Don’t even joke about that. I tilt my head up to press my lips against his, a half-kiss. Savoring this calm before the storm of our bodies crashing against each other.

  He rests his forehead against mine, hands up in my hair, slowly exploring my breasts, my waist, my hips. “Beautiful girl, what have you done to me?” His hands cup my face. He smooths his thumb across my bottom lip, and I suck it into my mouth, moaning and watching him as I do.

  Heat flashes in his eyes. He licks his lips. Makes a deep, guttural sound, like a shot fired, and the race to do as much to each other’s bodies as we can begins.

  I pull his shirt down off his shoulders, running my hands down the smooth, toned muscles of his arms. He tosses the shirt to the floor and pushes me against the wall, kissing me hard on the mouth, practically growling, and then dropping to his knees and disappearing under my dress.

  Oh sweet Jesus, he tugs my panties down. I feel his thumb brush up against my clit, and then he grabs hold of my ass, slides one hand down the back of one thigh, hiking my leg up over his shoulder. He licks and then bites the flesh of my inner thigh and proceeds to do all of the amazing things he did last night to my lady parts with his fingers—with his tongue this time.

  I cannot do any penis things to him from this position.

  My eyes roll back inside my head. “Oh, shit.” I melt into the wall, into his hands, into his tongue. His flicking, circling, sweeping tongue. His gentle, punishing, determined tongue. I’m whimpering and floating up and caving in on myself. My hands slap against the wall, trying to find some leverage, bracing myself. And now his fingers get in on the action too.

  “Shane. Oh my God. How many of you are down there?”

  He answers by moaning, pushing his fingers up to my hips and pulsing his tongue in and out and in and out. My entire being is struck by a hot jolt of electricity, and then my hips follow his rhythm, warmth radiating up and out from my center and back to where his tongue penetrates me. It feels too good. I scream out his name and then cover my mouth because I’m making such loud noises.

  “I want to hear you,” he says from under my dress. “I want to hear you come.”

  I uncover my mouth and whimper. I squeeze my thighs together, wriggling away from him. It has to stop. It’s too much. I’ve never ever gotten enough from a guy, but this feels like so much more than my body can handle and it’s just the beginning.

  “Shane.”

  He continues licking me, pressing my trembling thighs together even more with his palms and then sucking on my clit.

  “Oh God!”

  My life flashes before my eyes, and it turns out my life has just been one long pre-orgasm leading up to this.

  He goes back to kissing me down there and doesn’t stop until my hips have stopped rolling, until my body has stopped jerking and tensing, until every cell of my body has gone from screaming to whispering his name.

  His head finally reemerges from under my dress, but I still feel little electric shocks in my core.

  What just happened?

  I’m limp as a ragdoll, but I also feel like I could run a marathon.

  Before I can even mutter his name again or say the other thing I’m thinking—That was so wizard—he’s carrying me in his arms to my bedroom. He kicks the door shut. Just in case the kids come home, I guess. Or to keep me from running out—as if.

  He lowers me to the foot of the bed, lifts me up to sit, kneels before me to untie my Keds. Such a dad move, oh my God.

  When my shoes are off, he stands up, takes my hands and holds them up, pulling my dress over my head. The dress gets tossed aside. I can barely keep my heavy eyelids open, but his eyes are wide and appreciative. I am completely naked before him in this white filtered natural light, and I’m not even afraid of him seeing me.

  “Willa…look at you. Goddamn.”

  I run my fingers through my hair and toss it all behind my shoulders so he can see everything, dragging my fingertips down the side of my neck, between my breasts.

  He groans and reaches for me, but I reach for his jeans, looking up at him as I unbutton and unzip, maneuvering them so they can drop to his ankles. He steps out of them, kicking them aside. The bulge in his black boxer briefs is magnificent.

  “Wow, your pen really is bigger than mine,” I mutter.

  I cup it with one hand while tracing my fingertip along the inside of the waistband and then pulling the elastic away from the taut skin of his pelvis. He watches me as I uncover this fully erect beautiful thing.

  Oh my God, it’s so pretty. I knew it. I knew it would be. It’s so clean and well-groomed and big and friendly, and it matches the rest of him. I can’t stop staring.

  I need to refrain from talking about it.

  No need to share everything that pops into my brain.

  Just keep it to myself.

  “I just…I just have to say that if the penises in porn looked like this, I would actually watch pornos. You should show your cock in movies. Seriously. This puts Michael Fassbender’s penis to shame.”

  “Once again, I’ll be sure to pass that along to my agents.”

  I push the boxer briefs down until they drop to the floor. My mouth is watering, staring at his erection. All this for me? I cup his balls, wrap my hand around the base, and lick up the underside, all the way to the crown and then suck on it.

  We both groan at the same time.

  His hands are in my hair again.

  I can do fantastic things with my tongue too, Shane Miller, just you wait.

  “Willa,” he says so quietly. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

  I stroke and lick and suck and squeeze.

  He tugs on my hair. His hands grip my shoulders. “Willa, stop.”

  I don’t stop. I want to do all the things to this cock.

  “Willa.” His voice is so growly. “What do you call a guy who can’t wait another minute to be inside you?”

  I look up at him, dazed and confused.

  “Me. Get on your back. Now.”

  Well, it’s not very funny, but I haven’t heard that one before.

  I get on my back.

  Now.

  15

  Shane

  I can’t stop touching this woman.

  I can’t stop kissing her.

  I can’t stop staring.

  Completely naked, except for that dainty gold necklace, she pulls herself backwards from the foot of the bed up to lay her head on the pillows, my hands around her ankles as I climb onto the bed with her. Moving in sync with each other, like we’re doing some choreographed dirty dancing routine, she locks eyes with me the e
ntire time. She slowly lowers herself to the mattress, to the pillows. Her long, silky dark hair splays out around her against the white sheets, framing her beautiful face and body, and for once in my life, I am speechless. I can only touch and kiss and stare.

  I stroke up from her ankles to her knees, pushing them apart, kneeling between them. She watches me intently, shifting around a bit, clawing at the covers. She’s a little tense and restless from anticipation. I am too. Every part of me is straining to collide with every part of her, and I must be insane if I’m ordering her to remove her amazing mouth from my aching cock, but time is not on our side this afternoon, and I intend to spend as much of it plunging the depths of Willa’s sweet, hot pussy as possible.

  Her gorgeous breasts and perky nipples are beckoning to me, though. I’m not going to ignore them. I’m going to make sure they know exactly how much I like them. I’m going to massage them while my tongue circles and flicks and glides. I’m going to take in as much of this one into my mouth as I can. I’m going to suck until she cries out, and I’m going to nip at her flesh to make her gasp. She’s writhing around and dragging her fingernails across my upper back. and fuck that feels good. She’s whimpering and mumbling something I don’t understand. Something about my heart line and pheromones and an allergy. She’s shaking her head and repeating my name over and over in a deep, husky voice that I don’t recognize as hers, but I like it just the same.

  I take one last lick, hike myself up, hover over her, staring down at this pretty, flushed face that I can’t get enough of. She can barely keep her blurry eyes open. I have never been this hard, but I’m completely torn between the need for release and the desire to make this last before real life comes banging down the door. I lower myself to kiss that mouth, that swollen, moist, deep-pink mouth.

  “It’s been longer than a minute,” she mutters between licking and biting my lower lip. “Get on your back. Now.”

  In the second that it takes me to lower my head and laugh, she manages to flip me onto my back. I would complain, but she’s straddling me, and this view is better than any of the other views from my house. She’s positioning her dripping wet pussy over my rigid cock, and I’m mesmerized. She presses into my chest with one hand for support, clutches the base of my dick with the other. I hold on to her hips. We’re both holding our breaths. She’s lowering herself so slowly.

  Jesus, this is sweet fucking agony, and I’m feeling it all over.

  She’s quivering, and I’m clenching everything, trying to hold still.

  When the tip of my cock gets a quick kiss of that wet heat, I know it’s all over for me.

  I’m a goner.

  This is it.

  Nothing will ever feel better than this.

  Her exhale and my groan echo, chasing each other around the ceiling and she’s consuming me with this soul-melting tease as she sinks down, down, down until we’ve merged. I’ve filled her up, and she’s arching her back and tightening around me. “Oh, baby.” I’m in deep, and she’s completely still for an eternity while she gets over the shock of accommodating me. When she does, she flips her head, tossing her hair to one side, and her hips start to roll. She takes her time, smirking at me, killing me and giving me life with each swaying movement. Taking it sexy and slow.

  Fuck this shit.

  I give her ass a smack. The resulting shudder through her body is more satisfying than I’d imagined, so I do it again. She responds by picking up the pace, rocking back and forth and bearing down on me. It takes an incredible amount of effort to keep my eyes open, but watching Willa sway around and lean into the ebb and flow of this orgasm is breathtaking. Literally. I can’t look away. She’s drowning in it, and I squeeze her thighs to remind her that I’m here. I’m working hard to keep my climax at bay, but this is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I want to wait for this tidal wave to crash, but I might have to wait forever. And I can’t.

  One swift move and I’m on top of her, thrusting like a champion right out of the gate.

  “Oh, yes, Shane. Yes!”

  She grabs on to my shoulders and wraps her legs around me so tight.

  “Willa, Willa, Willa.”

  “Fuck me harder. You don’t have to be Mr. Nice Guy.”

  Well, fuck me.

  “Like this?” I slam into her, nailing her to the mattress. The delirious pleasure is almost unbearable. “You want that?”

  “Oh God, yes!”

  I grab on to the headboard for leverage and go harder, faster, deeper. Some crazy growl emerges from deep inside me. I’ve been on the edge of everything for so long, hanging on by my fingernails, and she’s giving me permission to let go.

  “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

  The wall is shaking from the pounding of the headboard, her tits are bouncing magnificently beneath me, and I cry out, some unintelligible curse or prayer, because this is raw fucking heaven and hell and I feel so alive I might die.

  I disappear into the staccato rhythm of fucking Willa and I find myself again.

  The white-hot orgasm shreds me to pieces. I am somehow aware of her saying my name and holding on to me while I explode inside her. Blindly emptying into her, frozen in time.

  I collapse onto her.

  We cling to each other.

  Both of us slick with sweat, fighting to catch our breath, exhausted and energized.

  My hand finds hers, interlacing our fingers, slowly returning to the world and each other.

  Finally, she reaches for the bottle of water on her bedside table, takes a sip, and then hands it to me. I sit up to drink. For the first time ever, I’m realizing I don’t just have a woman in bed with me. I have a partner. It’s a lot to take in—way too much to think about after ejaculating. But this lazy thought is hovering over me like a fragrant, post-coital cloud of smoke. This is what I want. Pancakes and trampoline parties and a woman who can make my kids laugh and do sensational things to my cock.

  This woman.

  The room is filled with the delicately overwhelming scent of her.

  “I want to lie here with you like this for ten minutes, and then I want to do all of that again.”

  “All of it?”

  “Plus a few other things, in a few other places.” I take one last sip of water.

  “You’ll have to buy me dinner first before doing certain things to one of my places.”

  I’ve done about twenty perfect spit-takes in my career, on-camera and off, but water spews everywhere and I nearly choke to death.

  When I finally regain my composure, I say, “I meant other places in this house, not on you. But I can order dinner to be delivered in twenty minutes! Where’s my phone?”

  She laughs. “I mean, you could just make me a sandwich.”

  “Please, I am a gentleman. I’ll make you two sandwiches. But really, where’s my phone?” My dad brain is regaining consciousness. I crawl to the foot of the bed to pick up my pants, finding my phone on the floor. “Shit.” There’s a voice mail, a missed call, and two text messages from Riley’s mom. Two texts from Margo. All in the last forty minutes. My phone’s set to vibrate, but I didn’t hear a thing.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know yet.” I listen to the voice mail, trying to concentrate on what Riley’s mom is saying instead of watching Willa glide out of the room, naked.

  “Fuck.” The twins are sick. They both barfed. Simultaneously. They twarfed. On the trampoline. They’re resting in a back room at the gym. They want to come home. God, the poor things. This is my fault. What kind of an idiot fills his kids up with ten different kinds of food right before a trampoline party? The horny kind.

  Willa walks back in, listening to a message on her phone too. “Ohhh, poor things. She called me too.”

  I hold my hand up to silence her while I call Riley’s mom back. It goes to voice mail, but I tell her I’m on my way to pick the kids up in Woodland Hills. I grab my underwear, look around for my shirt. I can’t go like this. It’s gotta be so obvio
us I’ve been having a fuckfest.

  “Should I come with you?” Willa asks as she covers herself with her dress.

  “No.” If we show up together, everyone will know that my nanny and I have been fucking. “I’ll go. This is my fault.” I rake my fingers through my hair. So much for heaven.

  “They’ll be fine, Shane. They just need to rest. It’s not like you gave them food poisoning.”

  “Thanks,” I say, brushing past her, out of the room. “I’ll be sure to remind people of that when I’m accepting my Father of the Year award.”

  I check my text messages while I head to the bathroom to clean myself up.

  MARGO: Why am I getting texts from Riley’s mom about the twins being sick and needing to be picked up in Woodland Hills? What is going on?

  MARGO: Shane. They’re calling me to set. Willa won’t answer me either. What is going on???

  I text Margo to tell her the twins were just sick from jumping after eating too much. And that I was stuck in traffic running errands but I’m on my way to pick up the twins. It’s the first time I’ve ever lied to her like that. I’m a shit.

  “I’ll have peppermint tea waiting for them when you get home. Do you have any?”

  “I have no idea,” I say, looking for my wallet and keys. “See you in a bit.”

  I’m already backing out of the garage by the time it occurs to me that I should have kissed Willa good-bye. Something. So she knows I’m not mad at her for anything. That what just happened between us meant everything to me. But I already feel bad for making the kids wait so long to be picked up. And deep down I feel guilty that what happened between me and Willa meant everything. Because she isn’t everything to me. She can’t be.

  I lost my head.

  I may already be losing my heart to her, but I can’t afford to lose my head.

  16

  Willa

  Well. It was not the first time a man had left my bed in a hurry before, but it was the first time a man had rushed off to pick up his kids after plowing me and joking about making me sandwiches before doing butt stuff.