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The bed was impossibly warm.

Erica’s queen-sized mattress was not designed for the four of us, and that was precisely the source of the erotic charge. It was a sensory overload—I was pressed on all sides by soft, naked, female flesh. Erica’s athletic body was a firm, hot wall at my back, her hand already idly stroking my hip. Casey was a heavy, comforting weight draped over my front, her voluminous breasts flattened against my chest, her chin resting on my shoulder. And Anna, the smallest, had burrowed into the space under my arm, her face pressed against my ribs, her soft hair tickling my skin.

Erica’s hand, which had been resting on my hip, slid lower, under the covers. Her fingers brushed against my cock.

I had been completely spent from the kitchen, but the sheer, compressed proximity, the scent of all three of them, and the knowledge of the forbidden, innocent prize sleeping in my own bed, had my blood simmering again.

Her fingers closed around me. I was already half-hard.

A low, rumbling chuckle vibrated from Casey’s chest. "Oh, Daddy," she whispered, her hot breath puffing against my ear. "You're insatiable. You just came."

"It's not my fault," I murmured back, my voice thick. "This bed is too small."

"I know," Erica whispered from behind me, her fingers tightening their grip, stroking me. "It's perfect, isn't it?"

My cock was now fully, achingly hard, trapped in her hand. The "sleepover" was about to be consummated.

Anna stirred under my arm. She slid her head out, her dark eyes gleaming in the pink salt-lamp glow. She saw my hand in Casey’s hair, Erica’s hand on my cock. Without a word, she wriggled her way down my body, her small, lithe form moving like a cat under the heavy duvet.

Erica released me, and a moment later, a new, wet heat enveloped the head of my cock. Anna had taken me into her mouth.

I let out a low groan, my head falling back onto the pillow. Casey immediately moved to kiss my neck and chest, her lips and tongue leaving a hot trail. Behind me, {girl_loc_1} pressed her entire body against my back, wrapping her leg over mine, her hand roaming over my stomach, her fingers dancing around Anna’s busy mouth.

This wasn't the raw, punishing need from the kitchen. This was a decadent, possessive lullaby.

Anna’s technique was slow, lulling, hypnotic. She wasn't trying to make me come; she was simply serving me. Her tongue was a soft, wet swirl, her lips a perfect, gentle seal. I felt Casey’s heavy breast on my chest, Erica’s strong hand on my thigh, and Anna’s diligent mouth at my center.

I was the king, and this was my court, all assembled in this tiny, perfect, pink-lit room.

I felt the last of my adrenaline drain away, replaced by a profound, heavy, satisfied exhaustion. My breathing slowed. My hand, which had been gripping the sheets, relaxed. I found Anna’s head and buried my fingers in her soft, dark curls. My last conscious thought was the feeling of her warm, gentle mouth, a perfect, devoted comfort. I fell asleep to her rhythm.

A silent, insistent vibration buzzed against my skin.

My eyes snapped open. 5:30 AM. My phone, which I'd set on my chest, was vibrating. I grabbed it and killed the alarm.

The room was dark and still. The pink light was off.

I was covered in them. Anna had fallen asleep with her cheek resting on my stomach, her task completed. Casey was a dead weight on top of me, one arm flung across my neck. Erica was still spooned tightly to my back. It was a fortress of warm, sleeping flesh.

My objective was clear.

Moving with the slow, deliberate precision of a bomb-disposal expert, I began my extraction. First, I gently lifted Casey’s heavy arm from my throat. She mumbled in her sleep and rolled away, immediately latching onto Erica.

Next, I had to get out from under Anna. I slid my hand under her, lifting her torso just enough to pull my own out from beneath her, replacing my body with a pillow. She sighed and burrowed into it, none the wiser.

I slid out of the bed. The air in the hallway was freezing against my naked skin. I moved silently, my feet padding on the cold, wooden floor, a ghost in my own house.

I reached my bedroom door and pushed it open.

She was there. A small, still shape in the vastness of my bed, surrounded by my pillows. The first, faint, grey light of dawn was just beginning to filter through the curtains. She was on her side, her breathing soft and even.

I didn't get in immediately. I stood for a moment, just watching her. She was so perfect, so pristine.

Then, I moved. I didn't get in on my side; that was too far away. I rounded the bed and climbed in on the empty, vast space behind her. She was near the far edge, where I had placed her. I slid under the covers, the sheets cold where I lay.

I lay there for a full minute, just letting my body heat warm the space, not touching her.

Then, slowly, I shuffled closer. My front pressed against her small, T-shirt-clad back. My arm slid under her pillow. My other arm came around, my hand resting possessively on her hip. I pulled her back against me.

She was so warm, so soft. I was spooning her, my chin resting on the top of her head, inhaling the faint, sweet scent of her blonde hair.

She stirred.

Her body tensed for a fraction of a second. A stranger was in her bed.

Then, she must have recognized my scent, my size, my feel. Because in her sleep, she did the one thing that made my heart pound. She melted.

She let out a tiny, contented sigh and pressed her small, round butt back against my groin, snuggling into my warmth as if it were the safest place in the world.

I closed my eyes, a deep, satisfied, and triumphant smile on my face. My hand tightened on her hip.

She would wake up exactly where I wanted her: in my arms, believing I had been her silent guardian all night long.