Page 90 of Wicked Little Darling

Would he tell me about them some day? Would he ever trust me enough to give me more of his secrets? To let me carry some of these heavy things weighing him down?

He seemed to sleep just fine whenever he was with me, and that was one of the reasons I’d wanted to hold him. I was hoping he’d fall asleep, or at least unwind enough to recharge a little. He looked so tired today, and he needed proper rest so he could get better.

I wasn’t sure how long he slept or when I also drifted off, but at some point I was drawn out of a thick, hazy fog by a low moan.

Instantly awake, I took a deep breath and ended up squeezing Reese against me, blinking down at his head. He was shifting restlessly on me and making soft sounds that were waking up other parts of my body.

And when I moved my gaze lower, the enormous wet spot at the front of his pants—coupled with his very large, very obvious erection—made me freeze.

Oh, fuck.

Fuck.

Was he still sleeping? He was moving his hips in slow, erotic thrusts that were about to send me over the edge. His face was still turned into my chest, right next to my nipple.

“Reese?”

“Hmm.”

“Are you awake?”

He took a deep breath, then let go of my arm and slid his hand down his stomach to his cock, curving his fingers over the rigid length. He squeezed himself and moaned as he started grinding into his palm, and holy fucking shit, I couldn’t handle this.

“Reese.” I slid my fingers under his chin and gripped it, tilting his head so I could see his face. “Hey. Wake up,I’m dying here.”

He was definitely still half asleep, and he rubbed his cheek against my chest as his eyelashes fluttered open.

“Dakota?”

“Yeah. You’re doing that thing again.”

“Mmhmm. What thing?”

“That thing where you get really horny when you’re asleep. Were you dreaming about me again?”

Please say yes.

He stilled, then seemed to realize he was touching himself and quickly moved his hand away.

“No, I wasn’t.”

Reese moved up and down on my chest when I laughed, and he smacked my arm.

“Okay. You weren’t.” I let go of his chin and trailed my fingers down his chest to his stomach, pulling his shirt up to reveal his belly. “Can I help you?” I stroked my fingers across his stomach, right below his belly button, watching the muscles there flex under my touch.

He wrapped his hands around my forearms, the wet spot on the front of his pants growing, his dick standing out obscenely under the cotton.

“You’re just a horny, perverted bastard,” he said breathlessly. And then he began moving my hand down until my fingers were resting just above his pants.

Oh, fuck.

I bit his ear. “Only for you. The dirtiest of perverts.” I teased my index finger under his pants, just the tiniest bit, and he squeezed my arms and groaned.

“Look how much you’re leaking, Reese,” I murmured in his ear. “Please let me help you.” I grabbed the waistband and pulled up, making the material slide tighter against his hard length. His hips lifted just a little, and he made a small sound in his throat.

“Fuck,” he whispered. I let go of his pants, about to pull my hand back when he grabbed it and slid it lower, covering his cock with my palm and sliding me up his length to the wet spot.

Fuck me, I wasn’t gonna last.