her. Shouldn’t all of a sudden be thinking about her lush body beneath mine. I shut down my brain, and redirect my train of thoughts to ones that don’t involve my friend naked.
Too bad my dick didn’t get the memo.
2
Kinsley
“How did you end up with the honeymoon suite anyway?” Emily asks me, as I practically carry her to my bed, and toss her on it. She widens her arms and makes snow angels on my big, inviting mattress. She’s a hot mess, and if she could see herself, she’d be mortified. As a cosmetologist, she’s always so well put together. Tequila is not her friend.
“I guess I just got lucky,” I say. The hotel had lost my reservation, so they put me in one of their posh honeymoon suites. I’m not about to complain. The place is bigger than my Seattle condo.
“This bed is big enough to sleep six,” she tells me.
It’s true it is, but I wish I was sleeping alone in it, left to my thoughts about Cason, and the way his body moved with mine. Yeah, I want to lay here alone and fantasize, but I won’t. Not with Emily next to me. She’s had far too much tequila, and I needed to make sure she landed in bed safely. Friends take care of each other. She insisted she needed to go to her room, although she couldn’t remember why, and when her key was nowhere to be found, taking her here to my big suite to sleep off the tequila was a no-brainer.
“Wait,” she says and sits up. She peels her tongue from the roof of her mouth, and furrows her brow in thought. “I think I’m supposed to get lucky tonight.”
I shake my head. “The only luck you’re going to have is if you don’t end up with your head in the toilet bowl.” I gesture for her to lift her arms. “Come on, let me help you undress.”
“That was good tequila,” she says and I laugh as I peel her shirt off. She flops onto her pillow and I remove her pants, leaving her in her bra and panties. I help her between the sheets and put a big glass of water on the nightstand. As she drifts off, I brush my teeth, and I’m about to undress and climb in beside her, but stop short when she starts snoring so hard, the walls begin to vibrate around me.
“Oh, hell no!”
I grab her purse and search for her key. Dammit. Would they give me a new one at the front desk, if I asked? If I had her ID, pretended to be her, what choice would they have? Even though we look nothing alike, I snatch her wallet from her purse, and head down to the front desk.
Jackpot.
Ten minutes later, I let myself into her room, and with exhaustion from a long day pulling at me, I strip off and collapse onto her bed. I close my eyes, and the second I do, visions of a naked Cason dance in my head. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll have another sex dream tonight, just like the ones I’ve been having for the past year now.
Last summer, Cason and a few of his buddies had been playing street hockey with some neighborhood kids, and they all showed up half naked, and fully starved. Something shifted in me that day, woke with a vengeance. I always knew he was smoking hot, but damn, my ovaries nearly exploded as he gave me an up close and personal view of his hard chest and tight six pack.
Would his lower body be just as hard?
Dammit.
I should not be fantasizing about my good friend, especially when he just showed interest in Emily. I lied when he asked if he was a big fat snack. Oh, did I ever lie. What I’d do to take a bite out of him. But Emily’s the one he wants to go to bed with, not me—a tatted up girl who is the antithesis of the women who hang off his arm. I exhale sharply and work to push all images of Cason from my mind as I drift off. A long while later, a voice pulls me awake.
“Hey,” Cason says.
I take a breath, and then another. What the hell is going on? I try to focus, but my room is too dark to see anything. A big callused hand touches my face, and that’s when I clue in. I’m fantasizing about Cason again.
“Mmm,” I say and settle against the pillow, ready to ride this dream out to orgasm. His lips find mine, and I moan into his mouth, to let him know how much I like his kisses, even if they’re not real. No, none of this is tangible, not the weight of his body pressing down on mine, the hard cock indenting my leg, or the hungry groans that sound far too real.
“Sorry I took so long,” he says, and I put my legs around him, and move my hips.
“Forgiven,” I murmur and for a brief second he goes still. His body stiffens, and I’m not just talking about the anaconda between his legs. Oh, God, this is my dream, and I get to dictate what happens next, not him. I grip his hair, bring his mouth back to mine, and kiss the living hell out of him.
I lift my hips, grind against his body, and just give in to the things this man makes me feel. I’m not so sure I’d be so wild and bold in real life. It’s true, my outward appearance tells a story, a rebellious daughter of lawyer parents, who was supposed to follow in their footsteps, but inside, I’m not always as confident as I let on. But this, in my dreams, I can let go, and take what I want.
“Cason,” I murmur. “Get naked all ready.” I tear at his T-shirt, needing his skin next to mine. He reaches over his back and tugs, removing the stupid piece of fabric that’s preventing me from touching him all over. I can’t see a thing, but that’s okay. I want to feel my way around his luscious body anyway.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much,” I say, as his hand goes to my breast. He kneads me in his big, hockey player palms, rough from years of handling the stick, his thumb brushing against my nipple and holy, it’s all I can do not to come.
“Yes,” I say. “Just like that.”
I fist his hair and push on him, until his mouth is right where I want it to be—for now. Soon I’ll want it between my quivering legs. He chuckles at my boldness, and the sound vibrates through my body, and stimulates my throbbing clit.