Free The Redeemer by J.D. Chase Page B

quite catch. He held his breath, hoping desperately that she wouldn’t wake. She remained still and quiet.
    He was just drifting off to sleep when he felt her becoming restless again. He froze as she snuggled up to his tensing frame, throwing her arm around him and resting her face against his chest. His arm appeared to move of its own accord as it slid around her back. She snuggled closer still, throwing a leg over his and pressing her body against him, murmuring in her sleep, ‘Need you. Don’t leave me.’
    ‘I won’t,’ he replied, his voice barely a whisper.
    Dean knew she was dreaming. He didn’t know who she was dreaming about but his imagination soon determined that it was him. And that they were both naked. As Isla was only wearing a thigh-length, cotton shift dress, it was easy to imagine since much of their contact was skin on skin. He reached up and flicked the switch to douse the lamp so that his imagination was not tempered by reality. The room was pitch dark thanks to the new heavyweight curtains that ensured residents had a good night’s sleep.
    Lowering his arm, he began to stroke the bare skin of her upper arm, feeling the heat of her breath against his chest. He closed his eyes and savoured the moment that he’d longed for and feared would never happen. The little voice of his conscience told him that he was skewing reality and that he had no right to be touching her but Dean was suddenly hard of hearing.
    Isla began to moan softly as his fingertips trailed up and down her arm. Emboldened, he extended his reach and began to caress the side of her neck. Her appreciative moans grew louder and, when he grazed his fingers behind her ear, she pressed her lips against his bare chest. His heart began to thump wildly against his ribcage. She continued to kiss his chest, little tiny kisses that were heading towards his neck. He didn’t know whether he was more concerned that the accelerated thudding of his heart would surely wake her or that she’d feel his cock against her leg. It was twitching and hardening with every press of her lips.
    His conscience went from scolding to full-on bollocking mode as the little voice screamed at him to stop. That he shouldn’t be there. That he was taking advantage of her in her inebriated state. But he wouldn’t hear of it. After all, he reasoned, he was only comforting her as she slept. Bullshit ! his conscience bellowed. That worked; his hand stilled as common sense began to prevail. But, in an instant, Isla changed that.
    Her head lifted and her hungry mouth sought his. When her soft, plump lips landed on his, his brain seemed to implode, taking out his conscience and any capacity for rational thought. He felt so shocked that he just lay there, unresponsive as her kiss became more insistent. When her tongue slid across his bottom lip, the caution-inducing knowledge that she was under the influence of alcohol and may not realise who she was kissing, evaporated. Her tongue entering his mouth caused a testosterone overload, sending him into primal autopilot. He kissed her back, teasing her tongue with his and delighting when she moaned appreciatively into his mouth. When she caught his tongue and sucked it, tingling sensations shot through his balls making his cock lurch with desperate need. Her hands began to roam his body, making his head spin and his balls ache. He followed her lead when she rose into a sitting position so that they clung together as they allowed their hands fuller access to the other’s body.
    Any chance he had of recapturing his faculties or his morals, disappeared when she slid her hand inside his boxers and grasped his cock. His breath caught in his throat but still she devoured his mouth. He thought he was dreaming when she pulled away and purred, ‘Can you smell my pussy? It’s soaked, waiting for your talented mouth. Fuck me with your tongue. If you can make me squirt, I’ll give you the wettest, sloppiest blowjob your depraved little