Bren

 

His warm tongue laved against my straining nipple, causing another moan to rip from my throat.

“Enough teasing,” I groaned.

A warm male chuckle vibrated—against my inner thigh this time. “So bossy,” he murmured. “I want to take my time with you.”

His hot tongue met the oversensitive spot between my thighs, and any further arguments died on my lips.

Gah!

Digging my fingers into his hair, I tugged slightly, loving the way it felt to be in this position at all.

One-night stands weren’t supposed to be like this, right? It was like someone designed this man just for me. He took his time hunting out every secret spot that made me shiver and then lingered there until I was desperate and trembling with need.

“One more,” he whispered, the stubble from his jaw brushing between my thighs in the most distracting and delicious way. “Come once more for me and I’ll give you what you want.”

“Then let’s get the show on the road.” I lifted my hips, raising my warm, wet center straight to his mouth.

He chuckled again before diving in with gusto. His tongue could have set Olympic records with how skilled it was, and how embarrassingly fast he brought me to the edge.

“Mason!” I cried out his name, already there—right at that blissful moment before the most intense pleasure crashed through me—for the third time since I’d found myself in his bed.

He rose to his knees, his long fingers replacing his mouth, stroking in slow circles. He continued to hold me there—just at the edge—as he quickly covered himself with a condom.

“I want to feel you come this time,” he said on a groan as he entered me. My body tightened around him, the invasion intense but oh so welcome.

His thick length speared me, and my entire body tightened. Deeper still he slid, and I cried out, so close.

“Right there,” I said. “Just like that.”

“You feel so perfect. Now come for me,” he sighed.

I opened my eyes.

No, no, no!

I groaned in frustration.

I sat up in bed—alone—covered in a thin sheen of sweat, my heart pounding and panties soaked through.

The best sex of my life, and it was only a dream.

Holy shit. I just had the most realistic fantasy about Mason. I’d relived some of our steamier moments from our night together.

But my overheated body couldn’t tell the difference between a sex dream and the real thing.

Turning over on my side, I punched my pillow into place, wondering how in the world I’d get back to sleep now.

***

“Can I ask you a question?” I glanced at Mandy over the surgical mask I wore, my voice muffled.

She was disinfecting a cut on the inside of a sloth’s hind leg. Poor little guy.

“’Course. Anything. You know that.” Her eyes behind her thick tortoiseshell frames narrowed on mine.

Drawing a deep breath, I steeled my nerves. “Tell me more about growing a human inside you.”

Mandy set down the gauze she’d been using and grabbed a bottle of disinfectant. “You’ll have to be a little more specific than that. What about it?”

“I had this dream last night. It was so vivid.”

“Yeah, I remember having some crazy dreams.” Mandy nodded. “What about?”

Glancing down at Mr. Pokey, I stroked his fur softly, a smile quirking up my lips. “Yeah, this was no ordinary dream…it was more of a vivid flashback of my time with Mason.”

Mandy set down her tools, her eyes meeting mine. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Her intense scrutiny gave me chills.

She took a deep breath, and we moved away from our patient, removing our rubber gloves and throwing them in the trash.

“I almost don’t want to tell you this…but when I was pregnant, my libido was out of control. I was so horny. All the time. Poor Todd. I had a big belly, so sex was awkward, but that didn’t stop me from begging him to take me from behind.” She chuckled, clearly remembering something I did not want to know about.

At this new information, my mouth pulled into a frown. None of what she was telling me was making me feel any calmer about my situation. I figured my odds of being pregnant were fifty-fifty, but every time Mandy spoke, it was like I learned of another new symptom to freak out about.

With this new information, my chances of not jumping Mason’s bones the next time I saw him were, what? Slim to none.

I was so screwed.