Pagan (The Henchmen MC 8)

In sleep, her face seemed even more delicate than it usually did. Her lips were parted somewhat. And, given that I could do it without her catching me and thinking I was a creep, I really looked at her. Her lips were still slightly swollen from mine; a slight beard burn covered one of her cheeks, her throat, and disappeared down beneath the sheet where I imagined there were marks on her tits as well.

When she woke up, I wanted those marks on her inner thighs. I wanted it on the triangle over her bare pussy.

I wanted her marked.

And that shit, well, it was fucking insane.

So I finally dragged myself up, taking the soaked boxer briefs and tossing them into the wash. I had about five cigarettes and three drinks, trying to get those ridiculous thoughts out of my head.

Then, the sun sneaking across the sky, I finally went up to bed where she was still sleeping where I had left her.

And I did something I had never done before; I fell asleep with a woman in my bed.

Then, fucking hand to fucking God... I woke up spooning the goddamn woman.TENKennedyOkay.

Alright.

So... big, badass, scary as all hell, sexy as all sin, gun-running, cage-fighting, smoking, drinking, crazy Pagan was spooning me.

I woke up several moments before, weirdly disoriented, sleep-heavy. It had been so long since I had a restful night that unconsciousness didn't want to loosen its hold on me. But when my eyes registered the windows I was facing, the sun shining through, the unmistakable sprawling loveliness of the shoreline greeting me, yeah I snapped fully awake.

And it all came flooding back.

Hex. Making out. Going home with Pagan. The hot tub. Oh, man, that hot tub. Then the after the hot tub. Namely, the sex.

Oh, sweet, sweet Jesus, the sex.

Even just remembering it had the desire uncurling through my system, spreading its limbs like waking from a long sleep, reaching into every inch of me until my blood felt heated, my breasts oddly heavy, wet pooling between my thighs.

The after sex, well, there was no way to sugarcoat that. It was awkward as hell. And it wasn't just me for a change. It wasn't just me who was feeling weird. Pagan was too. True, I hadn't known him long, but had found him somewhat talkative and often in motion, and definitely, definitely physical. He always seemed to find reasons to touch me. I had sort of figured, at the very least, he would land one of those massive arms across my shoulders or something like that.

But nope.

He put on a movie and kept a cool distance between us until everything caught up with me- the long night out, the drinks, the sex, the weeks of near-sleeplessness. And I passed out.

Cue waking up.

Being spooned.

Now, if you told me that a man like Pagan even knew how to spoon, I probably would have laughed in your face. It was just an absurd idea.

Yet, there I was, facing the amazing, million-dollar view, in sheets so smooth they must have had a thread count to brag about on the package, with a heavy arm draped across my belly, a solid body cocked behind mine, warm breath in my ear, a cock pressing into my butt cheek, and, I kid you not, a hand closed around my breast.

In his sleep, because he was asleep, his body still and his breathing even, he was holding onto my boob.

I almost wanted to laugh, but the more prudent part of me didn't want to ruin the moment, wake him up, and make him realize what he was doing. I had a feeling a conscious Pagan would not be cool with spooning me, even if he did get to feel me up in the process.

So I kept my body as still as possible and simply let myself.... enjoy it.

Because that was what I had wanted and needed the night before. What can I say? I was a cuddler. I liked being close to someone after they had been inside me. Maybe that was a little needy of me, but it was just how I was wired. I had never needed a man who called and texted and told me he loved me every ten minutes. I just needed a touch and I always felt infinitely better.

Me, I was eating the spooning session up.

But it wasn't long until his cock, straining in his dreams, was starting to drive me to distraction, reminding me of how good he felt inside me, stretching me, making me his.

And I went ahead and ruined it.

But for all the right reasons.

I rubbed my butt against his erection, drawing a low, ragged growl out of the chest behind mine, his body jolting slightly and I knew he was waking up. So I did another little shimmy against him. The rumbling sound was louder. His hand tensed on my breast then, I guess finally realizing where it was, gave it a good hard squeeze, making me let out a small groan as my head fell back against his shoulder. His thumb rolled my slowly hardening nipple and I made a strangled, whimpering sound that made him do the yummy growl thing again.