Read Online Meadowlarks by Ashley Christine - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ashley Christine
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the sheets are cool against my heated body.
My head sinks into my pillow, and I fall into a deep sleep. I dream of light blue dresses, flowing red hair, a beautiful body lying in a field, and long eyelashes against my chest. My dream feels so real. I can feel her heat beside me; I can touch her skin with my fingertips, and her lips are brushing my throat.
Mmm...yes, baby.
She surprises me, disappearing into the darkness and suddenly I feel her mouth around me. I am hard as a rock, and her long, slow licks are sending star bursts into my eyelids. They fly open. I'm not dreaming. I am not dreaming at all . I reach down to feel a head of hair bobbing between my legs. Pulling the blanket away, I am mortified.
“Gwen! What the fuck?!” I sit up as fast as I can, and she does too, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“What the hell are you doing?” I growl loudly, then quickly lower my voice as I remember Jeremiah in the room two doors away.
“Don't act like you don't want it,” she says in a husky voice. “You've wanted this for years!” She trails her finger down her neck and between her breasts.
“Gwen. No, I don’t. You're drunk. Go back to your own bed.” I get out of my bed, hold my pants over my lower-half, and I open the door, praying she leaves.
“Are you kidding me, Blaine?” she says angrily. “Fine. I'll go sleep with Jeremiah; at least he wants me!”
She sounds like a whiny brat, and the guilt I felt earlier tonight about not wanting her there is gone like the wind. I shut the door behind her, and I stand listening to make sure she actually walks away.
She does; I hear her whispering something to Jeremiah and then a creak of the old iron bed as she climbs in beside him. I turn the lock on my door and climb back into my bed. What the hell was that? I instinctively rub my hand over myself, my erection now gone.
Thank you. I whisper, looking up at the ceiling.
Ordinarily I would have been all over something like that. I would have grabbed that girl, thrown her down on the bed and kissed every inch of her, making her scream with anticipation before I drove myself in. She would have exploded around me, and in turn, I into her. Maybe not with Gwen Wolf, but another girl I found attractive.
But I don't want anyone but Addison. I don't want to run my tongue down the throat and chest of anyone else but her. My erection is back, and I bury my face into my pillow, letting out a long groan of frustration. Gwen...what am I going to do in the morning when I see you?
Act like it never happened probably. I'm not going down that road, and there's no way I'll let Jeremiah find out that the girl he brought to my house as his date just had my entire length in her mouth.
* * *
Rex barking outside my bedroom window wakes me up. I look at the alarm clock; it’s 9:53 AM. I rub my hands on my face and sit up. I shouldn't drink like that. I'm only twenty-nine, but I'm not that young anymore. And hangovers have never appealed to me.
I toss my pajama bottoms into the hamper in the bathroom and turn the knob in the shower. Steam quickly fills the small room, and I breathe in deeply. Standing under the shower head, I adjust the setting to massage and enjoy the rapid motion pulsating down my neck and back. I just want to stand here all morning, wash this feeling out and the remainder of Gwen off. I close my eyes and wince at the
My head sinks into my pillow, and I fall into a deep sleep. I dream of light blue dresses, flowing red hair, a beautiful body lying in a field, and long eyelashes against my chest. My dream feels so real. I can feel her heat beside me; I can touch her skin with my fingertips, and her lips are brushing my throat.
Mmm...yes, baby.
She surprises me, disappearing into the darkness and suddenly I feel her mouth around me. I am hard as a rock, and her long, slow licks are sending star bursts into my eyelids. They fly open. I'm not dreaming. I am not dreaming at all . I reach down to feel a head of hair bobbing between my legs. Pulling the blanket away, I am mortified.
“Gwen! What the fuck?!” I sit up as fast as I can, and she does too, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“What the hell are you doing?” I growl loudly, then quickly lower my voice as I remember Jeremiah in the room two doors away.
“Don't act like you don't want it,” she says in a husky voice. “You've wanted this for years!” She trails her finger down her neck and between her breasts.
“Gwen. No, I don’t. You're drunk. Go back to your own bed.” I get out of my bed, hold my pants over my lower-half, and I open the door, praying she leaves.
“Are you kidding me, Blaine?” she says angrily. “Fine. I'll go sleep with Jeremiah; at least he wants me!”
She sounds like a whiny brat, and the guilt I felt earlier tonight about not wanting her there is gone like the wind. I shut the door behind her, and I stand listening to make sure she actually walks away.
She does; I hear her whispering something to Jeremiah and then a creak of the old iron bed as she climbs in beside him. I turn the lock on my door and climb back into my bed. What the hell was that? I instinctively rub my hand over myself, my erection now gone.
Thank you. I whisper, looking up at the ceiling.
Ordinarily I would have been all over something like that. I would have grabbed that girl, thrown her down on the bed and kissed every inch of her, making her scream with anticipation before I drove myself in. She would have exploded around me, and in turn, I into her. Maybe not with Gwen Wolf, but another girl I found attractive.
But I don't want anyone but Addison. I don't want to run my tongue down the throat and chest of anyone else but her. My erection is back, and I bury my face into my pillow, letting out a long groan of frustration. Gwen...what am I going to do in the morning when I see you?
Act like it never happened probably. I'm not going down that road, and there's no way I'll let Jeremiah find out that the girl he brought to my house as his date just had my entire length in her mouth.
* * *
Rex barking outside my bedroom window wakes me up. I look at the alarm clock; it’s 9:53 AM. I rub my hands on my face and sit up. I shouldn't drink like that. I'm only twenty-nine, but I'm not that young anymore. And hangovers have never appealed to me.
I toss my pajama bottoms into the hamper in the bathroom and turn the knob in the shower. Steam quickly fills the small room, and I breathe in deeply. Standing under the shower head, I adjust the setting to massage and enjoy the rapid motion pulsating down my neck and back. I just want to stand here all morning, wash this feeling out and the remainder of Gwen off. I close my eyes and wince at the
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