That piques my interest, more than it already was.
He hums. And his hand picks up pace.
My hand moves by itself, almost as if it is possessed. My thighs part, and I bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop the groan.
I dip my finger into my wetness then trail it up to my swollen clit. I slowly tilt my head to the side to make sure Rhys didn’t see me. He is still engrossed in what he is doing.
I watch him. I listen to him. The way he tries to keep silent. His pleasure is feeding mine. And if he knew what I was doing to him, doing what he is doing, that would make for an awkward morning. So, I do my best to keep my moans to myself.
I rub my clit in lazy circles, enjoying watching Rhys too much. He shifts his hips in response to his hand. I thrust a finger into my waiting pussy.
I want more, need more, but I can’t get caught, so this has to be enough.
When his hand starts to work quicker, I grind the heel of my palm into my clit and thrust another finger into my body.
A moan escapes my lips before I have a chance to catch it. Fuck.
But Rhys is fucking his fist in hard sure thrusts, my name on his lips, and that is a bigger turn on then I care to admit.
My arousal is coating my hand and upper thighs the closer my orgasm gets. The muscles of my pussy contract. Rhys’s hand is working impossibly fast.
My back arches off the mattress. Rhys groans, uncaring if anyone can hear him. It has a direct line to my orgasm because it comes rushing forward.
“Good girl, Morgan, come apart for me.”
I don’t know if I hear it in my head or he has said the words out loud. All I know is it sends me over the edge.
I throw my hand over my mouth, biting into the flesh of my palm to stop the blissful cry. Rhys’s hand has slowed down.
“Fuck, yes.”
I’m guessing he also came apart.
Slowly, I pull my hand from my body. I’m sweaty and sticky and oh so satisfied. That is until I realise, I’m in Rhys’s swag; my cum coating me and his sheets.
I can’t get up and clean myself. We’ll cross paths and he’ll know that I know what he was doing.
Fuck.
Well, it looks like I’m sleeping like this. I watch as Rhys approaches where he’s sleeping. He stops and looks in my direction. I quickly close my eyes; I doubt he’d see that they were open. I listen to him get back into the swag then whisper, “Goodnight, Princess.”
As much as my heart is jackhammering, I remain still. And I stay like that until I hear soft, even snores from Rhys.
I turn to face him. “Goodnight, Cowboy.”
Chapter Seventeen
RHYS
I’m not the first one awake. Morgan is sitting on top of my rolled-up swag drawing something in her book.
“Keen to get home, Princess?” I ask as I sit up on my elbows.
She looks up at me. “My home or the station?”
“Where is your home?”
She doesn’t reply, just shifts her gaze back to the book. “I don’t know.” She whispers, low enough I’m certain I wasn’t meant to hear her.
