My phone then back on the bedside table, next to my packet of the pill which looks untampered with, the second thought goes through my mind. Me, lying here last Monday, about to embark on my special assignment from Logan — touching myself and bringing myself to orgasm while thinking about him, during our only night apart since we’ve gotten together. Oh, that was fun, I muse, allowing the gratifying feelings to flow through my body, enlivening it, sparking a desire to reenact that assignment. The image I drew earlier of Logan and I against the window comes back into my imagination, driving my desire higher still. But I don’t touch myself, I doze in the delicious, sensual sensations as they carry me off to sleep.

* * *

I wake many hours later with Logan lying over me, his head on my shoulder, his hand on my chest and his leg resting on top of mine. I’m steaming under the covers, and not because our combined body temperatures are hot, but because I’ve just awoken, quite suddenly, from the most sexually explicit dream that I’ve ever had.

I would swear on my life that it was real. I’m sure I was just coming over and over and over again…but it was all a dream. Jeez, my imagination is wanton! My heart pounds madly, and I’m panting as though I’ve actually just had sex. Down below I can feel my wetness and if it weren’t for the aching feeling in my clitoris I would think that I had an orgasm in my sleep. But that dull ache tells me that I haven’t, I woke up on the verge. Dammit!

I’ve never, ever woken up feeling so horny and raring to go. How is this even possible? How can I possibly be right on the verge of an orgasm simply from a dream? It was Logan, I remember, it was the incredible, heightened things he was doing to me. Oh, I want the dream to finish.

“Logan,” I whisper loudly.

But then I blanch, and scold myself, Gemima, what the fuck are you doing? You can’t wake him up and demand sex just because you had a sex dream! Immediately, I know my scolding-self is right, but Logan shifts and mumbles next to me.

Don’t wake up, please, don’t, I scream in my mind. I really don’t want to have to explain myself. Chiding myself again, I think, you didn’t think it that far through, did you, Gem?

I lay very still, hoping that he’ll settle and continue sleeping for however long we’ve got before my alarm goes off. Tentatively, I glance over at my nightstand, trying hard to move my eyeballs and nothing else, to check what time it is. Shit…it’s only five AM.

Logan wriggles and mumbles, “S’matter?”

“Nothing,” I whisper, feeling tense all over. My dream will just have to wait to be finished. “Go back to sleep,” I tell him, though I feel like I won’t be able to do anything of the sort. I’ll probably lie awake, growing more erotically charged until daylight brings some sweet reprieve. Logan will wake up and my desire will be quenched. Maybe two times, or three times, I think hopefully.

His head shifts over my chest and a second later, he freezes, his body becoming stiff and rigid. He lifts his head, suddenly alert and stares at me through the darkness. “Gemima, what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice terse.

“Nothing, go back to sleep,” I whisper once more.

“No,” he says, “your heart is beating overtime.”

Fuck! Please, don’t make me say it, Logan. “I’m fine,” I say, stroking his cheek with my hand.

Logan momentarily flattens me, reaching for something on my nightstand. The feeling of him on top of me does nothing to stem my rapid heartbeat or the intense feeling of longing that’s potent in every cell of my body. Suddenly the bedside lamp comes on, and I scrunch up my face against the unwelcome light.

“What’s wrong?” Logan demands to know, still on top of me.

Oh, this is beyond embarrassing! I desperately wish I’d kept my mouth shut. I could have snuck out of bed and crept into the bathroom, and taken care of business myself, I realise too late. Then I’d be coming right now, instead of having to explain my rudeness. I cover my face with my hands, partly to block out the light, partly to save face. It’s confession time, Gem.

“OK,” I begin. “Nothing is wrong,” I point out firstly, so that he’ll stop worrying. Then the words just pour out of me. “I had a sex dream, and it was incredible, and I woke up feeling like I was just about to orgasm and that’s why my heart is racing, so I tried to wake you up to convince you to have sex with me, but then I was like, hang on a minute, you can’t just demand sex from him, he’s sleeping, don’t be so rude.” I take a breath. It might be the longest sentence I’ve ever managed without one.

Logan is silent for a moment, taking in what I’ve just divulged.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” I tell him, peeking through my fingers. “It was very inconsiderate. Go back to sleep.”

His face is filled with humour. “That’s not fucking likely,” he murmurs, shifting himself so that he’s properly on top of me. He buries his face into my neck, kissing my skin.

“Oh, I love doing this with you,” I breathe, everything in me reigniting. My dream is becoming reality.

“The feeling’s mutual, I promise,” he chuckles.

I grin, but feel the need to say, “Please don’t feel like you need to take care of anything. I mean, if the table was turned and you woke me up after having a sex dream, I’d think, that’s nice, then roll over and go back to sleep,” I tell him truthfully.

“Ah, but you see, we have differing processes of arousal,” he counters quickly. “I have a one-second startup on my engine, where as yours is a little slower,” he says, mercifully aware of our differing bodies. “So, no, I would never wake you up and demand sex, because it’s not really the same thing when the table is turned,” he says.

Oh my god, I love this man! His sensitivities, his understanding. He’s letting me get away with my rudeness! Can this be? A smile spreads across my face. “The fact that you’re aware of what you just said makes you so fucking sexy, Logan.”

He smiles against my lips, “It’s just biology, baby.”

He begins kissing me, slowly, sensually. His hand moves southwards, towards my sex. I open my legs gratefully, so ready for him. His fingers glide over me easily. I squirm against them, wanting both to feel them and to escape them. I’m so, so close!

“Gemima,” he sighs, his voice full of as much carnal desire as I feel within me. “Baby, you’re so wet!” his voice is my detonator, pushing me to the edge.

“It was a good dream,” I pant.

“Was I in it?” he asks, chuckling. He so knows the answer to that.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I say, throwing my head back into the pillow and arching my back against him. I groan loudly.

He plays with me, stroking me softly. “I love feeling you arch against me,” he whispers in my ear. “I love feeling you so wet.”

“S’your fault,” I moan. “The things you did in my dream…ah…they were very similar to this.” The weight of him on top of me, his fingers on my sex, his words in my ear…it’s all too much. “Logan, I want you inside of me,” I beg, my hand finding and rubbing his erection. I seriously don’t have long left.

“In a minute,” he says slowly, enjoying himself.

I tremble under him, my self-control slipping away fast. Then he slides two long fingers into me, making a sound of such gratification at my warmth. Immediately, I feel my legs stiffen.

“Already?” he asks, reading me correctly.

“Yes,” I moan into his mouth as he starts taking me, sliding in and out quickly. Ah! Closer, closer. He sinks into me for the final time and I call out, pushed too far. I orgasm stupendously, my mind vaguely wondering if I’m still dreaming. But I’m not, Logan’s lips on mine, his tongue slipping into my mouth confirms this for me. He withdraws his fingers, and positions his erection at my entrance. I reach down and grab his backside, squeezing it, willing him forward.