In His Sleep (6 page)

“Pathetic,” she mumbled, punching down the pillow. She was just lonely and horny, that was all.

The silence in the room annoyed her, so she flicked on the television and fluffed her pillow. She tossed and turned, determined to be master of her domain, like in the Seinfeld episode, the one where all the characters made a bet to see who could go the longest without masturbating. Then she remembered that those who caved, well, they were much more relaxed.

It didn’t take much for her body to respond to her mental images of Chad. She pinched both her nipples. Rubbed them with her thumbs, imagining what it would be like to hold his head as his moist mouth sucked at each nipple. She’d beg him to take her hard and fast, but he’d insist on giving every inch of her body his undivided attention.

She lowered her right hand down her belly.
Screw foreplay
. She rammed three of her fingers deep inside her pussy while she tugged at her left nipple. She could almost feel the weight of him on top of her as he pounded his cock into her, stroking her insides. He’d tease her by going slow, nearly pulling himself completely out of her, then abruptly, and without warning, shove his hard cock so hard and fast into her she could barley breath.

She arched her back, eyes closed tight and picture what his face might look like as brought her to the brink of climax only to slow down and torture her with slow, wet, sloppy kisses.

Her hips moved so fast she no longer had to move her hand. She merely wiggled her fingers, putting just enough pressure in all the right spots. Desperation clawed her clit. Wetness poured out of her body as she reached climax in what had to be record time. She clamped her legs tight around her hand, still deep inside. Gently, she guided her fingers across her clit to keep the ripple of her orgasm generating.

It might have been quick, but it was damn good.

* * * *

By the time Chad stepped into the elevators, it was well past eleven and he was dead-dog tired. Not that he planned to sleep, but he needed to get out of the crowd. Too many drunken accountants lead to one big headache. Besides, Angie was nowhere to be found. He figured she’d know he’d be in the bar, so if she wanted to hook up, she would have come looking. Of course, if all he wanted was to fuck, he would be beating down her door. However, she did something to his insides most women didn’t do. She made him think beyond the sex.

As he approached Angie’s room, he wondered what she was doing. Was she in the bath? Shower? Naked with soap bubbling down her body. What a vision. Or was she in bed, with sheet barely drawn across her breasts, her nipples sneaking out from behind the white cotton.

He shook his head. She had made it perfectly clear she was all done with him when she started talking with her associates about the pictures and the ad. Even though he wanted to spend all night finding ways to make, that honey voice of hers cry out his name, she wasn’t interested.

He continued down the hall to his room. It was best that he kept his distance. A night of sex might cause him to fall asleep. While sleepwalking wasn’t some horrible disease or anything, it was embarrassing. Better to just find another way to pass the time.

He hit star five on his cell. It didn’t ring but went immediately to his sister’s voice mail. He left a message saying he’d be up and she could call.

He inserted the key, gave the door a little hip shove. He nearly stepped on a disk and an envelope with his name on it. He knew exactly what the disk was; she said she’d leave it for him after making him sign some agreement that he wouldn’t use it for anything other than portfolio pieces. Like that would ever happen. He was no model. Just because he might have pulled it off, he had no intention of ever doing anything like that again.

Unless it was for fun.

And for her.

Wonderful. His cock leaped to attention thinking about how she looked down at him when she took his picture. How she’d paused, holding the camera in one hand, not quite bringing it to her eye, before snapping his picture.

It wasn’t so much the physical reaction she stirred him, but the gut wrenching need to fill her entirely. He wanted to fuck her endlessly, and then make sweet passionate love to her. He wanted to hold her in his arms and listen to her talk about whatever it was that made her happy. What made her feel like a whole person? He just wanted to hold her.

Fucking crazy.

He picked up the note and studied it. His name was perfectly written, nice and neat, across the center with a little smiley face.

He shed his tie and tossed it on the bed. The rest of his clothes followed. All but his boxers. One would think he’d learn not to hang out in his underwear when sleep might occur, but he didn’t like pajamas and he didn’t feel like being in his dress slacks anymore. He was sure his sister would call. He could always count on her.

He snagged his laptop from its case and set everything up on the bed. He held the envelope up to the light, but that didn’t reveal anything, so he gave up and ripped it open. He liked her handwriting, crisp and clear. The note read:

Dear Chad,

Thanks so much for your help this morning. You will be paid for your time. You should receive a check in about two weeks. Please join me for a nightcap, anytime tonight. I’m a light sleeper. Just knock.

Angie.

Chad lifted the letter to his face and let the orange scent carry from his nose to every inch of his body. The clock on the dresser told him it was well past anyone’s bedtime. His heart raced just thinking about her, in his arms, begging him to fuck her every way imaginable. But he had knocked on her door about a half hour ago, and no one answered.

He flipped opened his laptop and waited, fiddling with the note. The computer beeped, and then his main screen came on. He smiled, running his fingers across the pictures of his two nieces playing in the sandbox. He’d bet Angie would take great action shots of them. He frowned. Nothing worse than bizarre random thoughts.

The disk also had his name written on it, with a big thank you and once again, the stupid smiley face. He popped it into the drive and clicked on the open box. The computer hummed until a black and white picture of him appeared. “Holy shit.” He felt his eyes bulge in their sockets. His mother would have a heart attack. His sister would laugh hysterically, and his secretary would want to blow it up and plaster it all over the internet with the caption ‘Accountants Gone Wild.’

He’d always known he wasn’t a bad looking guy, but this picture did him wonders. His eyes were barely open, looking almost directly at the camera, but he knew he’d been focusing on Angie. She’d captured a part of him that not many people saw. And he had to admit that the shoot had been a turn on, well, without Kirk’s incessant babbling, it would’ve been a major turn on. Thank God for Kirk.

He clicked on slide show and felt his face heat. He shouldn’t be embarrassed. The pictures were good and very tasteful, but he couldn’t believe he was the specimen. Or that he came across that hot in a photograph. Or that he even thought of himself that way.

When the slide show ended, he shut down his computer and rubbed his tired eyes. Now close to one, it was time to watch some television. Even though she’d invited him over, he couldn’t bring himself to leave the comfort of his room. Being alone with her, just for one night, wouldn’t be enough.

He kept a light on so that if he did fall asleep it might wake him, although that didn’t always work. The television blared loud enough to make it difficult to fall asleep but not too loud as to disturb the guests in the adjacent rooms. His semi-erection also aided in the inability to fall fast asleep.

He pictured Angie in his mind. The more alert his brain, the less likely he’d end up outside of these four walls, but he kept his hands away from Mr. Semi-Hard. In the end, that would relax him too much and then he’d been in trouble.

Big trouble.

* * * *

Angie stopped short of the door, and then dashed into the bathroom. “Coming,” she yelled as she filled the cap to the scope bottle. She swirled the minty liquid around in her mouth, spit, then rolled down her yoga pants low on her hips, showing of her firm mid-drift. She took in a deep breath, tweaked her nipples, and then made a beeline for the door.

Her heart pounded so fast she couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the blood racing to her clit. She gripped the handle and swung the door open. “Chad,” she whispered, staring at his bare back. She let her eyes slowly drop to his dark green boxers and down the length of his strong legs.

“Come in.” She tapped his back. “Do you always wonder the halls in your underwear?”

“I was looking for the water fountain,” he said, not turning to face her. “I thought there was one in the lobby.”

“You don’t want to go down there like that,” she said, puzzled by the topic. “You drunk again?” That was a deal breaker.

He turned to his left and pointed his finger. “Jesus, Gretchen. I told you this wasn’t a good idea.”

“Who the hell is Gretchen?” She didn’t like being called by some other woman’s name.

“Who are you?” He didn’t really look at her, just kind of over her. His eyes were glazed, as they had been last night.

“Who is Gretchen?” she asked again.

“My sister, and she’s dead meat for this one. I warned her if she tried to pull this shit, I’d get her back one way or another.”

“Oh, my God.” Angie giggled. The man was sleepwalking. “Let’s get you inside.” Careful not to startle him, she gently touched his arm, then laced her fingers around his firm muscle and tugged him into her room. “Chad, wake-up.” She waved her hand in front of his face. “Oh, Chad,” she cooed.

“Where’s the water fount ...” he blinked a few times, then ran a hand across his face. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I’ll just go back to my room now.”

“Do you have a key to get back in?” She tried not to laugh but couldn’t contain herself as she watched him pat down his hips. Funny how people who walked in their sleep could look and sound as if they were wide-awake.

“Hopefully, my door is open.”

“I’ll check. Don’t move.” She patted his firm peck and immediately it tensed. “Relax.”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“Just sit down.” Something told her he’d been sleepwalking last night as well. A sense of humbleness filled her heart. He had no idea what he’d agreed to and yet he did it anyway and saved her ass.

She leaned out into the hallway, flipped the dummy lock, and raced to his room. She pushed the door, but it didn’t budge, so she headed back to hers. “Nope, locked.”

“Great.” He’d taken the pillow and placed it across his lap.

All that did was remind her of what his erection felt like against her in the hot tub. Her panties damped with the moist heat that poured from her body. “I suppose you don’t have any ID on you?”

He lifted a brow and gave her an evil look. A sexy, evil look. “I can explain.”

“Not necessary. My dad was a sleepwalker.”

“Really?” The tension in his face eased.

She nodded, gliding across the room and settling on the bed next to him. “You don’t remember meeting me in the hall last night do you?”

“I remember pieces of it. Kind of like a bizarre dream or something. I’m sorry.” He turned his gaze to the window. “I’ll just call the lobby and tell them what happened.”

“Sure,” she said softly, trying to get close enough without making it too obvious, although obvious might get his attention. Why was she waffling? She wanted him and he was no longer her model. And so what if he was more glamorous than she was? She ran her fingers up his arm and across his shoulder. He tensed but didn’t jerk away. “Do you remember any of it?”

“I know I did stuff to you.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“Really, I’m sorry I don’t remember.”

“It’s okay. You had a first in the hot-tub; I might as well have a first with a guy in his sleep.”

He laughed.

“Why’d you do it?” she asked.

“Do what?” His voice rumbled in her chest, sucking the breath right from her lungs.

She blinked a few times before she could form words. “Help me this morning when you had no idea what you’d agreed to. I mean, if you just told me what happened, I would’ve understood.”

“You thought I was drunk.” He turned and locked gazes with her. “And I tried, but you wouldn’t let me back out.”

“You could have blown me off.” Some music came on from the television, breaking her trance. She rose from the bed and shut off the rubbish. “How many times have you gotten caught in your underwear in the hallways of hotels?”

“Twice,” he admitted.

“Only twice?” She leaned against the chair by the desk. Being close to him wreaked havoc on her normally great conversation skills.

“Yeah. Last night and just now. I don’t do hotels unless I’m with my sister.”

“Gretchen.”

His eyes widened. “How’d you know her name?”

“You were yelling at her in your sleep.”

He tossed the pillow aside. “What else did I say?”