Gracia
Ten words echoed in my head like a bad song I couldn’t stop replaying.
I am going to suck a d**k in my dream.
I was kneeling on the bed, hands wrapped around this stranger’s waist, face far too close to his hips, my cheek practically brushing against the line of muscle that disappeared under a dangerously low towel.
Normally, there was no way I’d be doing this if this were real. No matter how heartbroken I was. No matter how many drinks I’d had. No matter how stupidly desperate I felt.
I didn’t throw myself at men. I didn’t even beg when Charles stopped touching me because, believe it or not, I was a proud woman. And I definitely didn’t grovel at the feet of complete strangers to have s*x with me, no matter how insanely hot they were.
But what if this was a dream? Then it was
