Chapter 180

“Chloe… Mmm…”

I blink, confused. For a while, my mind just sits there, fizzling. It takes me an embarrassingly long time to realize that he’s not in pain. Or that he’s not awake.

Neil is having a sex dream about me.

He’s resting on his back on the bed. The covers are up to his waist. He’s wearing a t-shirt. I have no idea what he’s got on beneath the blankets, and thinking about it at all makes me blush so hard, my face might catch fire – especially when he slips one of his hands under the blankets and down, down.

I see the bulge in the blankets as he takes himself in hand and begins to stroke.

Okay. Yeah. I should probably leave now. The man is asleep, not in control of himself, and he likely wouldn’t want me to be a voyeur so yeah. I should go. That’s the right thing to do. Yes.

It takes a few seconds to convince myself, but with a great deal of strength, I turn my attention toward the door again. I reach out my hand. I touch the door handle.

“You aren’t leaving, are you?” Neil asks.

I glance behind me, and Neil is on the bed. His eyes are open. His smoldering gaze is on me. That bulge beneath the covers is still moving, slowly up and down.

I swallow hard. “And if I am?”

He smirks a little. It’s so strange on his face – usually he’s so earnest – that it makes my heart leap in my chest. Gods, he is so handsome, it’s unfair.

“Come here, Chloe.” He’s not using his Alpha voice. There’s no real force behind the words. No command that I need to obey, yet I still listen. I still move closer. One foot in front of the other.

“We both need rest,” I say, not really believing it, but well, someone should say it, shouldn’t they? One of us has to be the responsible one. It’s usually Neil, but if he’s checked out of the role, then it falls onto me.

“What better way to relax?” he asks. He inches over on the bed, and then glances at the new empty spot beside him. I glance at it too. It is just my size.

Well, to hell with it. A suggestion of a responsible thing counts enough as a responsible thing, right?

Yeah. It makes sense. Sure.

Slowly, I lower myself into the bed. I can see now, with some of the covers drawn up, that Neil is wearing boxers under the blanket, but they are pushed down now to the meat of his thighs. His long dick is exposed, with his hand gently stroking up and down.

Neil’s eyelids are hooded. He’s horny. Gods, that makes two of us.

“Put your hand in your panties,” Neil says. He adds a bit more command to his voice now, maybe because he knows I like it.

I whimper as I rush to obey. I slowly slip my hand under the waistband of my pants and panties.

“Rub your clit,” Neil says. He turns his head to me, to watch as more of my hand disappears into my pants. I trail my fingers down lower and lower until my middle finger brushes the mark.

I bite my bottom lip to keep from crying out. I’m so sensitive, even the lightest brush wants to send me shooting off the bed.

“Gently,” Neil says. “Do it slowly. Not too much. As much as I would like to have you rough, you can’t breathe that hard.”

I frown. Already I can tell he’s right. It is getting difficult to breathe. I slow down, matching the same pace that he is moving.

“There’s no need to rush,” he says. “We’ll get there at this pace, even if it takes us the rest of the day.”

Well, to hell with the rest of the day. I know what I’m doing. It’s being right here in this moment with Neil as we keep our eyes on each other. Our breaths escape us soft, yet loud in the otherwise quiet room. The only other noise is the occasional squelch of spit on Neil’s hand, or my pussy dripping.

It’s slow and it’s hot. My skin prickles with desire.

“Gods, you are so hot, Chloe,” Neil says, and I can tell that he’s close.

“Ah,” I’m close too. Closer, when he starts talking about that.

“That’s it,” he says. “Keep this same pace. Don’t let up.”

It’s like the perfect, most pleasurable kind of torture. I close my eyes for a moment, soaking it in. But that’s not good enough. I want to see. I want to see Neil.

I snap my eyes open and keep them open. Neil’s tongue comes out and wets his bottom lip. I watch it, mesmerized, as it returns back into the cave of his mouth.

He leans forward then, knowing what I want even better than me, and our lips press together. Gods, he tastes so good. I don’t know if the silver is adding to it, and I don’t care. It’s not poison to me. He can’t hurt me.

I keep my lips pressed to his even after his tongue leaves my mouth. I want him to feel my closeness. My desire. My care for him.

I want him, but more than that in this moment, I want to be with him. We are sharing every second of this bliss together.

The pleasure rides higher and higher and I can taste the desire in my mouth. Finally, we crest together, our lips still pressed. We break apart at the same time, gasping and trembling.

Then, together we are afloat.

After, I lower my head down to his shoulder and return to earth.

It takes me several long moments to compose myself. For barely touching each other, that sex seems to have knocked us both for a loop.

Neil pushes the blankets away from us. They are covered in his spend. He uses it to fully clean himself first. Then he rights his boxers and I remove my hand from my own.

With Neil fully covered up, some of my thoughts return to me.

And I remember that I’m supposed to be mad.

I’m sluggish, so it takes more than one attempt for me to lift my head enough to glare at him.

When he sees the expression, he throws his head back and laughs. “What’s that look?”

“I’m pissed,” I say, to clarify. I can imagine it must be confusing. I’m attempting anger with the best of my ability, but I’m still blissed out to heaven and back. Gods know what I actually look like. Well, and Neil.

“Are you?” he asks.

I think back, trying to remember through the haze the reason for my anger. “Yes,” I’m sure of that much at least.

Gods, fucking the Hayes brothers is giving me memory issues.

“You are keeping things from me,” I say, recalling at last. “I don’t like that.”

His smile slowly ebbs. His brow lowers. His face is careful again, so very Neil. Reserved. Not giving anything away.

“We have reasons,” he says.

“I know those reasons,” I say. “They aren’t good enough.”

“I’m not going back on this, Chloe,” he says.

Finally, my anger ignites again. The bliss is but a gentle hum in the back of my mind, about to be overridden in flames.

“And that’s why I’m pissed,” I growl.