Waves - Book #2 [completed]

25 ~ Wellenreiter

Wellenreiter
(German)
noun
Surfer; literally: wave rider

I don't want to wake up. Without opening my eyes, I know it's way too early for the world to even exist. And the dream I had was way too good to allow it slip away. In my dream, Riley and I weren't disturbed by Luke's worried face showing up. No. I got to touch and kiss her wherever I wanted. I had her back pushed against a wall, one leg firmly locked around my waist, spurring me on as I ravished her lips. I was about to shove my hand between her legs while hers slid down my chest, finding my raging hard-on ready to be touched.

"Mason."

Yeah, she whispered my name countless times like that. But I was sure I could maker her scream it too.

"Mason."

I groan, throwing an arm over my eyes because her voice isn't only in my head anymore. I'm back in reality.

She's here for real.

Carefully peeking over my arm to avoid the sting of light, a blurred version of Riley materializes above me. Her rich brown hair falls in a curtain over her shoulder, the tips tickling my arm as she bends over me. As my sleepy vision adjusts, her edges sharpen. The blue of her eyes glimmers like diamonds in the morning light and her rosy lips pull back into a smile.

"Hi. Good morning."

"Hey," I reply with a deserted voice as my eyes snap to the door, checking if it's closed. It is, and in a flash I reach up and hike her down to me, rolling over so she's on her back and I straddle her hips. She releases a gasped squeak, her eyes growing big. Impressed by my quick movements and how fast I'm able to wake up when there's the right motivation, I grin down at her astonished face; complete with parted lips, blushing cheeks and hair spilling over the white sheets.

Her chest rises with a deep inhale, catching my attention. Her t-shirt has ridden up her stomach and exposes a sliver of toned waist. Leaning down and holding myself up with one arm, I trace my fingers along her side teasingly until her skin twitches.

"Lost for words, Crabby?" I tease.

"No," she shoots back, snickering smugly. "I actually like being tickled."

I hum and bend down to finally kiss her, but she stops me with both hands on my bare chest. Her eyes flick down to my morning wood resting cozily against her hip, dick-print showing and all. My body's very straight forward and I'm not ashamed.

Swallowing, she looks back at me and pushes me further back. "Come on, get up. We're late."

"Late for what? It's still dark outside."

"Pack your bathers, Mr America. Or how you call them: trunks. Today, I'm going to show you what I call surfing." She sneaks out from underneath me, avoiding kicking me in the nuts this time and hops off the bed with a bounce.