He cups one of my boobs through several layers of cotton and groans. I barely restrain my own when he rolls his hips.

I open my mouth to say something, like maybe; “Hey, Bane. Why are you in my bed, feeling me up?” Or; “If you wanted to get your freak on with me, there are better, less awkward ways than creeping into my bed in the middle of the night and surprising me.” Or even; “Mind if I check out how generous that stick is jabbing into my low back?”

But none of those things come out of my mouth. Instead all I do is whisper-moan Bancroft.

It doesn’t seem to have an impact on the breast palming. In fact, he’s gone from palming to kneading. He makes a second attempt to get under the elastic with a grunt.

I should stop this. My brain registers this thought and immediately wants to dismiss it as unnecessary.

I really should do something apart from lie here, because this shouldn’t be happening in the middle of the night without some kind of adult discussion in which we weigh the consequences of me living in his house, being his pet sitter, and getting a little screw in on the side. Especially since he’s mentioned he’s not interested in getting into a relationship while he’s doing all this traveling. But since I’ve been fantasizing about the exact scenario, I’m a little too willing to let it go on for a little while longer.

This time he makes it under the elastic, his wide, warm palm curving around my breast. And then I feel his hot breath on my neck, followed by his lips on my skin. Oh Jesus, is he going to, oh no . . . oh yes . . . he rolls my nipples between his thumb and finger, his groan vibrating against me as his lips part and his tongue sweeps across my skin.

Okay, at this point I have zero good excuses for not saying something to stop him since he’s still obviously not quite conscious. And instead of doing the one thing I should, I arch and press my butt against his erection. It nestles all snug along the cleft of my ass—my underwear are clearly barring the way, although they’re not full coverage, so I can feel a lot of skin on skin. With a final, rough nipple twist he abandons my breast and his palm moves heavily down my stomach.

My eyes go wide as I realize he has a destination in mind. I would like to say my next action is a result of my acknowledging that this has gone too far. However, it has more to do with the fact that I think I need to shave my nether regions. I grab his hand just as it passes my navel. “Whoa!” I rasp-yell.

That seems to startle him out of whatever semi-sleep-induced lust-haze he’s in. His hand retracts and he rolls over as I jump out of the bed.

And that’s when I realize I’m not in my bedroom. I’m in his.

“I just—I didn’t—I made—” I’m flailing around like an idiot as a very sleep-bleary Bancroft blinks at me with confusion. God he’s sexy when he’s just woken up. My eyes follow his hand, which is smoothing down his stomach. And that’s when I take note that the sheets have abandoned his glorious body. He’s so naked. And I can see every inch of him. Well, apart from his right thigh.

Bancroft shirtless is a vision. Bancroft naked is damn well fucking phenomenal.

“Oh God, that is huge!” I say when I finally reach the visual destination of Erectiontopia.

It’s not completely dark in here, thanks to the night owls of the city who are awake in the buildings across the street. I can see very clearly how ample his erection truly is. And I’m definitely gawking. In my defense, there’s quite a lot to gawk at. My mouth is actually watering, it looks that amazing.

Prior to this moment I’ve never really been all that impressed with a penis. If there were a penis rating system, Bancroft’s would be in a class all its own. Now part of this may be due to the amazing shadows cast over his naked body by the ambient lighting. It may in part be due to the entire package framing the penis I’m currently staring at.

I scan his naked body, wishing like hell for a photographic memory, because his body is a gift from the heavens. And that erection is magnificent.

On a scale of one to ten, with one being depressingly inadequate and ten being deity inspiring, his dick is so beautiful it would make angels weep and virgins offer themselves up for sacrifice. Okay, maybe not that last part. But it’s a gorgeous penis and I’m really, really turned on.

Now I want to get back under those sheets with him and pretend I didn’t just accidentally crawl into his bed and let him feel me up, for quite a lengthy amount of time.

“Ruby?” He pulls a sheet up to cover his junk. “What’re you—” He looks me over. His hand is resting on his erection. Cradling it. That could’ve been me if I’d been smart enough to keep up the ruse.

I try to cover myself, because my choice of sleep outfit doesn’t leave all that much to the imagination. Well, more than Bane’s obviously, but it’s still pretty skimpy.

“It was an accident! Sorry!” I spin around and sprint to the door, slamming it behind me. I run all the way down the hall to my bedroom, being much more careful about closing the door this time. And of course, I lock it. My embarrassment is so huge—bigger even than the cock I was just staring at—and there is no way I can face Bane right now.

Chapter 16: Hard to Control Hard-Ons

BANCROFT

I’m lying in my bed, staring at my closed door with my hard-on in my hand, wondering what the hell just happened.

Well, I know what just happened, but the question is why was Ruby in my bed and why isn’t she in it anymore? Both myself and my erection, who I feel is an independent, although very linear thinker, would like an answer to this question.

I consider getting up and going to see if she’s okay, but I’m still achingly hard, so I can’t go anywhere right now. Also, based on her rushed exit and her inability to speak in coherent sentences, she seems pretty damn embarrassed about the entire thing. I suppose I can wait until morning, which is only two hours away anyway, and we can deal with it then.

As I lie here, filtering through the foggy event that has just transpired, I consider how much of it was related to my dream and how much was real. Mostly all I recall is some boob grabbing and nipple tweaking, and some cock-to-ass rubbing. I would like to do more of all of those things with her while conscious.

After five more minutes of lying in my bed, thinking about Ruby, I give up on her magically reappearing at my door and rub one out. Alone. This time I have some real-ish fodder to help me reach the end. The only thing that would be better is if it was the lovely Ruby helping me out, instead of me doing it on my own.