Honeymoon Phase By Amy Daws Read Free Chapter 25

Addison

The sound of Rufus crowing causes me to stir and, as I come to, I frown when I look down to see that I am not in my bed. I am still out in the living room, on the couch . . . with Luke.

And I’m not just on the couch with Luke.

I’m lying on the couch with Luke and he’s . . . spooning me.

He’s wrapped up around me, his warm heavy breath in my hair as his hand drapes over my belly like this is the most normal way to sleep. I glance at the clock, wondering when the hell I actually fell asleep. I remember laying my head on Luke’s lap after our emotional confessions. One minute we were talking and the next thing I know, I’m waking up in his arms, feeling more rested than I’ve felt in ages.

For once I didn’t watch every hour on the clock tick by and stress about how few hours I’m going to sleep. I just . . . slept. I slept with my best friend holding me. And Luke feels . . . incredible.

I guess a human heated blanket is all I needed to shut my brain off for a while. Or maybe it was me finally playing that voicemail. It was giving me anxiety knowing I had those words from Luke’s dad and not passing them on to him, because he deserved to hear that. He deserved to hear the happiness in that man’s voice, even while dealing with his sons giving him hell. And watching Luke break down while listening to it is something I will never forget. His dad was one of the good ones.

Mine is too for the most part. He made some mistakes to be sure, but he loves me, and he tries to do what’s best for me, which is all I can ask of a man who was suddenly a single dad to a teenage daughter. He stuck around at least, which is more than I can say for my mom.

Luke makes a noise from behind me and my eyes fly wide when he shifts and wiggles into me closer.

Is that . . .

He moves again behind me, and I audibly gasp when I feel the very obvious, very recognizable, very thick sensation of his erection poking into my ass.

His hand that’s draped over my waist moves downward and I chomp down on my lower lip when his fingers touch the waistband of my shorts, toying with the edge of them.

My knee-jerk reaction should be to push him off me. To grab his wrist and toss it back onto himself. But my body has other ideas. I find my hips tilting upward, ever so slightly, my body quaking with need that only gets worse when his rough hand brushes along my belly.

His hips pulse into my backside again and I slam my eyes shut when a spike of arousal lights off inside of me, sizzling from my core to my limbs, and electrifying me into a delirious, sleepy sort of dreamlike state.

Maybe I could just close my eyes and constrict my worldview to be just feelings. Just dark eyelids and heat and touch and racing pulses.

I feel his hand tighten on my belly.

Is he awake? He has to be awake. But his breaths are still so heavy—a warm, even cadence.

He thrusts into my back again and I feel myself squirming. But I’m not squirming away from him. I’m squirming into him. I’m wriggling and writhing with his movements, arching into him as butterflies swirl in my belly and heaviness pools between my legs.

So much heaviness.

It’s like an empty aching that I’ve had since the moment I moved into this house. An itch I can’t scratch. A yearning that refuses to be quieted.

I want Luke to fuck me.

Hard.

The morning sun pinpricks through the quiet darkness and my dreamy state drifts away, revealing just how awake I am and how not awake Luke is. I fixate on the particles floating in the air while my best friend grinds himself against me and I struggle to make sense of why this feels so damn good.

Luke pumps into me a few more times now, making no mistake what he’s doing. He’s . . . dry humping me. He’s rubbing his insanely hard and, dare I say, sizable boner into my rear, rutting between my ass cheeks in a way that feels damn near animalistic.

I swivel and shift, feeling edged by his half-hearted movements. They start and stop in no discernable rhythm, stirring an ache in my groin that hasn’t been touched by a man in far too long. Flashbacks of our kiss assault me and suddenly I’m back in my room putting my vibrator to use, only this time, I get to have the scent of Luke all over me while I fantasize.

Luke’s breaths are heavy and warm on my neck, the essence of him driving me wild as he rubs himself all over me.

When his hand slips upward and his fingers brush the bottom of my bare breast, I turn my head into the pillow and silently scream as my goose bumps race over my flesh, my nipples becoming so hard they feel like razors against the fabric of my T-shirt.

What is going on right now? Are we doing this? Is this happening? I need it to happen. I need something to happen. This is all too painful to endure for much longer.

And is he asleep? He can’t be, right? No amount of vivid dreaming can allow you to slide your fingers along my ribs and—holy fuck he’s just pinched my nipple. Now his whole hand is cupping my breast. I’m a small B cup at best so there’s not exactly a lot for him to grab, but he’s definitely got me in his grip and my skin feels like it’s on fire beneath his big palm.

His fingers flex every time his ass does as he thrusts his erection hard into me again and again, turning me positively feral.

He lets out an odd, beastly sort of sound, like he’s in pain. It’s not a sex sound. It’s the kind of sound you make when you’re masturbating and not worried about what sounds you utter because no one can hear you.

He must be sleeping.

Which feels like the greatest tragedy of all time.

“Luke?” I whisper softly, wanting him to wake up but not wanting any of this to end.

He doesn’t react, just continues thrusting into me, pulsing need through my whole body with every pump in an elemental, dirty way.

I moan softly as wetness pools in my panties. I’m so fucked up. My friend is sleep-fucking me and I’m . . . obsessed by it. Turned on by it. Consumed with it. I feel my entire body sliding into it, wanting more. I wonder briefly, if I pulled my shorts and panties down and arched my back, if he could just slide right into me. I’m sopping wet so I’m sure he could.

And I’d want him bare. I’d want his bare, silky hard cock to bury into me and possibly never come out.

His hands shift back down and skate right over the front of my shorts and I gasp as he cups my pussy firmly in his big, meaty palm. His fingers slide over the fabric covering my slit, and I groan and wriggle into him, egging his movements on as I greedily want more and more.

The dampness of my panties soaks through my shorts, probably coating his fingers, and the idea of that. The obscene image of my wetness on his big, thick fingers as he finger-fucks me through my shorts causes an ache to roil through me, and I let out a raspy cry.

I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I need him to fuck me. I need to feel the pain of his size pushing inside me.

He has to be awake by now, right?

I spread my legs slightly to give him better access and he groans and grips my pussy hard, pulling me back into his cock. The hard ridge of him pressing through his sweats and into my hip as he grinds himself over me while still not saying a word is throwing me into a state of delirium.

When I feel his hot breath on my shoulder, I moan as warmth travels through my whole body. My limbs begin to tremble as he lazily fingers me through my shorts, and just as I feel myself on the brink of orgasm, he freezes and his whole body goes still beside me.

Heart racing, I close my eyes and pretend to be sleeping, trying to regulate my breathing as I hear him curse softly under his breath and yank his hand away from me.

I inwardly cry as his groin shifts away and he fumbles down low beside me as I continue to breathe long, slow breaths, feigning sleep. He pushes the blanket, putting it directly between us and I want to cry as I feel the warmth of him disappear while he attempts to extricate himself from his position as big “morning wood” spoon.

He’s clearly not happy with himself and whatever was happening, whereas I was just letting him fuck me in his sleep apparently. I’m not sure who is more fucked up in this scenario. Probably me.

I hear another expletive come from his lips as he drapes the blanket over me and then the sound of his footsteps grow faint as he walks away. I lie still until I hear the click of his bedroom door and with a frustrated squeak, I throw the covers off me, my body heaving with my unfinished orgasm.

My nipples are rock-hard under my shirt, and I glance down and feel blanketed in shame over how wet I am. I debate shoving my hand down my shorts and finishing myself off right here on this couch. It wouldn’t take long because I can still smell Luke beside me. The heat of him is still on the cushion. All I’d have to do is roll onto my belly, prop my ass up and do a few swift circles on my clit, and I could orgasm in less than a minute.

But it would feel hollow.

And if Luke came out and caught me, then he’ll know that I let him defile me in his sleep. He’ll know that I soaked through my panties and shorts as he touched me in his sleepy state of mind. And he’ll know I liked it and wanted more.

I suck in a deep, cleansing breath and stand on shaky legs to make my way to my bathroom. I need a shower and an exorcism. And definitely a clean pair of underwear.

Luke

Ice-cold water sluices down my back as I press my head to the tile of the walk-in shower attached to my bedroom. My cock weeps under the assault, bobbing up at me like the unforgiving bastard I am.

But he deserves this pain. I deserve this pain. I am a sick fuck and I refuse to let myself come after the horror show that I just woke up to.

I was . . . defiling my wife in her sleep like a fucking creep. I don’t deserve to climax. I don’t deserve to have a boner ever again. I deserve to rot in hell because I am unwell.

Last night was groundbreaking for me and Roe. She let down her walls and apologized for abandoning me in my hour of need. I opened up to her more than I’ve ever opened up to anyone. We needed that. We needed to not only clear the air, but to drop the wall between us. Yes, we’ve shared a lot of ourselves with each other over the years, but if I’m honest, I know I’ve also held a lot back from her. In wanting to be her light, be everything she needs, I’ve kept parts of myself hidden. And if I really want Roe to love me, she needs to know all of me—especially the dark parts. And I need to know all of her, so she feels safe with me. That I won’t abandon her either.

And my dumb ass had to fuck it all up by trying to sleep-fuck her.

I don’t even know if that’s a fucking thing. I probably belong in jail for even attempting it though.

I just hope to God she doesn’t know what I did to her. If she does, she’ll never be able to look at me the same again, let alone consider not divorcing me when this one-year marriage is up.

Fuck.

I get dressed and shove a baseball cap over my damp hair, pulling the bill down to hide my shame. I need to get out there and see what she knows. See if she can even look at me. One glance and I’ll know if she thinks I’m a creep, so let’s get this shit over with.

Steeling myself, I swing open my bedroom door and my eyes swing left when I see that she is standing in the bathroom doorway adjacent to me. Steam billows out from behind her and she’s wrapped in an itty-bitty towel, her wet hair folded up into a towel, revealing her damn bare shoulders. My cock instantly perks up, still clearly putting in a good fight after that cold shower.

“Hey,” she says, her eyes dancing from me to her bedroom door as she grips a wad of dirty clothes in her hands.

I clear my throat and give back a formal “Good morning.”

She offers me a wobbly smile. “I was just . . . taking a shower.”

“I see that.” My eyes drop to her legs, glistening with humidity. “I was doing the same.”

“Nice. Showering is good.” She shoots me a bizarre smile and I can’t tell if it’s weird or normal, because my brain is just screaming at me to fuck her.

“I, um . . . you fell asleep on the couch last night,” I stammer, pulling my hat down low because I feel like she can still see right through me.

“Yeah . . . I, um . . . don’t think I’ve slept that good in a long time.”

I smile at that, feeling happy that she got some good sleep despite my morning . . . pursuits.

“Did you, um . . . sleep on the couch with me?” Her cheeks flush red and I wince as my cock twitches.

“Yeah, um. I did sleep there with you.” I frown, wondering if she’s trying to tell me she knows. Either way, I can’t lie to her. “Sorry about that but I didn’t want to wake you so . . .”

Her eyes soften as she stares up at me, her lips parted, breaths coming in heavier. “You slept on the couch with me all night to not wake me?”

“Yeah,” I state gruffly and my face flushes. It’s hard to make eye contact with her when she looks at me like that. “Anyways.”

With a deep inhale, I make a move to head down the hall, and Addison apparently has the same idea as she steps forward at the same time, bumping into me and twirling on her foot, dropping the ball of clothes in her hands.

“Shit, sorry.” I bend over to help her pick them up and she shoves me away.

“It’s fine, I got ’em.” She grabs them all with one hand while holding her towel with the other and before I can say another word, she turns on her heel and hauls ass to her bedroom, slamming the door abruptly behind her as she goes.

She totally knows I tried to sleep-fuck her.

I lean on the doorway and cast my eyes downward as I shake my head, and my lips part when I catch sight of something.

Tiny pale blue underwear that look . . .

Moist.

There’s that fucking word again.

I divert my eyes away, feeling like I’m invading her privacy by not only looking at her underwear but noticing how . . . damp they are. Are those what she had on last night? They sure look like it.

Was it what I was doing to her this morning that caused all that . . . moisture? Was she awake for all of that? My cock thickens in my jeans just at the idea of that. The idea that she wanted me to do what I did to her. That she encouraged it. Or that even in her sleep, she wanted me.

What happens next isn’t something I’m proud of. In fact, it’s something that puts my sleep fuckery game to shame.

Next thing I know, I bend over and pick them up, turning to go back into my bedroom, closing the door, and locking it behind me. My primitive, baseless, animalistic caveman comes out and like a man on fucking fire, I unbuckle my belt, ruck out of my jeans. I bring her panties to my nose like a ravenous beast, breathing in the damp scent of her, desperate to taste her arousal before wrapping the fabric around my cock and pumping my throbbing cock like I’ve never pumped it before.

“Fuuuck,” I growl as I hunch over, gripping the dresser with my free hand, and grind the lacy blue fabric over my length in rapid speed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I groan, dropping my chin to my chest, my abs clenching as I picture her wet pussy lips dripping with arousal.

For me.

She got herself soaking wet in these lacy blue panties.

For me.

“Oh God,” I grunt, feeling my climax crest quicker than I ever imagined, and I hunch over and cover my tip with the fabric, blowing my hot load into it.

My body quakes and shivers, jerking every last drop from my raw unit. I hiss as I wipe the sensitive tip off before pulling my jeans back up and buckling myself back in.

I stare at the panties drenched with my semen and wonder what the fuck I’m going to do to hide this from my roommate.

My wife.

My stomach is a pit of right and wrong. What the fuck did I just do? Addison is not going to want to stay married to me if she knows I’m a goddamn sexual deviant.

With a huff, I stuff them into my jeans pocket and stomp out of my bedroom, grateful to see her door is still closed.

There are still embers on the fire in the living room, so I toss the panties onto them and lay fresh wood over top, stoking the fire and adding bits of kindling to get the flames going again.

As I brace myself on the mantel and stare at the lacy fabric turning black in the flames . . . I vow to myself to never tell a single soul what I’ve just done. And if my dad is watching from somewhere up above . . . well . . . all I can say is, “Forgive me, Father, I know not what I do.”