When his hands find me as we sleep, my body relishes the involuntary acts of desire and I move into and against him, silently urging his slumbering hands to roam. He grips me without finesse or pretence, pulling my hips into position as he wraps himself around me, his cock hard against my ass, and I moan into the pillow as he grinds against me and this, here, now, under the covers, silently being groped as the night cradles us in darkness, this feels like the most beautiful way to be wanted.
His fingers find their way to my clit, and it feels exquisitely intense because I don’t know if he’s asleep or awake, all I know is that I want his fingers buried inside me and all the stars in the sky will mean nothing compared to the ones that will dance across my skin when I come for him.
He groans as his fingers delve into my wet, desperate, inviting cunt and his free arm slides beneath my neck and across my chest, pulling me tight against his body, his leg hooking into mine, spreading me wide. I know now that he has woken, at least partially, but his actions remain graceless, they are urgent, vulgar and the very reason I keep finding myself back in his bed.
I forget myself as I pant and writhe and give in to the pleasure. I forget the many, many reasons I probably shouldn’t be asleep here. I forget because being irresistible to someone in their sleep is one of the single greatest pleasures in this world. I forget because his hands always find me, they always pull me closer and they always, without fail, make me feel like I’m exactly where I belong.