Sweet Dreams

by Bolryder, Terry

  He lightly bites my lower lip, sucking it and grazing it, and I moan before he smiles against my lips and moves gently toward my ear, kissing over my cheek, my jaw, finally my lobe, which he sucks in and plays with gently.

  My hands grip his shoulders now, and I feel another warm, soft rope of support wrap around me. Then another.

  My eyes are closed, but I can feel warmth all around me. Warmth inside me. Zings of pleasure shoot through me, making me press my body against him with little mewls that make him chuckle as his hand moves down to cup my hip, gently squeezing as I moan once again.

  I can’t help it. I’m shameless, and he’s so beautiful, and his hands are finding and caressing all of my sensitive spots while his lips finish torturing my ear and move to my neck.

  “My dream mate,” he says. “My everything.” He kisses the most sensitive spot yet, one I hadn’t even known was there, at the base of my neck where it meets my shoulder, and I can feel his smile when I jump slightly.

  “Don’t stop,” I beg. My body has never felt so taut, so hungry.

  I’m aching.

  “I need you,” I say as he sucks gently on the sensitive spot of my neck and strokes the shell of my ear with one hand while he holds my hip possessively with the other.

  I’m shaking now, unsure if I’m going to collapse because my legs are jelly or if it’s impossible because my body has gone rigid since I’m so close to release.

  From a kiss. Just a kiss. What is this…?

  “Come for me, dream mate. I can’t wait a second more to see your pleasure.”

  And then an orgasm rips through me. But orgasm doesn’t describe it. It’s a storm of pleasure falling over me like a sheet of rain moves over a roof in a tsunami, soaking me, cooling me, though inside I’m burning with heat.

  I cry out as everything clenches, releasing with a feeling more incredible than any drug, a feeling I could live for, a feeling I could chase for the rest of my life.

  As the waves subside, I feel even more warmth all around me, and as this man holds me close, I open my eyes to see I’m surrounded by those beams of colored light. Overhead, around, arcing. I look down to see one circling my waist, holding me against him.

  Then I look up into my mystery man’s face.

  Not a mystery man. Not a man at all.

  Just a figment of my imagination.

  His eyes grow even more tender, more full of love as one hand cups my cheek, lightly stroking my ear, which is still sensitive. “My dream mate. At least we could be together here.”

  I sink in against him, unable to do anything else in this storm of pleasure. I close my eyes because seeing those beams of light are too much.

  Slowly, the warmth fades, leaving just the sea breeze and my trembling body caught up in this romantic sex god’s arms.

  Damn, this dream is so sweet it almost makes up for all the bad ones. I lift my head to see the beams are gone. It’s just us and the ocean and the breeze and the sand and the horizon, stretching out forever and surreal.

  “I don’t want this to end,” I say, sinking my head into his shoulder, my body already trembling in anticipation of more.

  “Me neither.” He steps back slightly, keeping his hands on my shoulders to steady me. “I told you I’ve been waiting forever.”

  I blink, holding back tears, though I’m not sure why. “It would be so amazing if you weren’t a hallucination.”

  “I’m not.” He cocks his head, his gorgeous hair still glistening and wet from the ocean.

  His eyes are so soulful and honest. If only men in the real world had such eyes.

  “You are,” I say. “That’s why I only see you on drugs. Or in drugged-up dreams.” I sigh. “But you made me feel amazing, so hallucination or not, thank you.”

  His dark brows lower, his lips tightening with consternation. “Wait. You still don’t know who I am?” He swallows, taking another step back. “Tess, it’s me. Your dream mate.”

  I stare at him, then at the dreamscape around us.

  “I did this for you,” he says, still looking confused by the situation. “I have been training all my life to do this for you.”

  “Do what?”

  He snorts, then waves around him. “This.”

  “A dream?”

  He nods, brows coming together as if the fact that I don’t understand is truly worrying him.

  “You made me feel amazing. Thank you,” I say. “But I think it’s time to go back to zombies.”

  “No,” he says firmly, walking up to grab me by the hand. “Listen to me, Tess. I’m not a hallucination. I’m the one for you. Listen to your heart.” His expression turns almost forlorn now. “Don’t you know me?”

  For one crazy moment, I almost wish I could say I did.

  But who is this hallucination to tell me what to do right now? Showing up out of nowhere, making me come so hard I’m sure I’ll never be able to match it again in real life and it’ll haunt me to the end of my days.

  As I stare at him helplessly, he takes a step forward as if steeling himself once more for another try.

  “We were made to be in love,” he says.

  I blink at him. “And now I know you’re a hallucination for sure. Because I enjoyed this extremely hot moment, but I don’t believe in love.”

  His eyes go wide and shocked, almost angry, and I whip away from him, astonished at the depth of feeling I have about something that’s just going on in my imagination.

  “Love is the most powerful force in the universe,” he says from behind me. “Love—”

  “Love sucks,” I say sharply. “Love only gets you hurt.”

  Silence from him, and I look back to see his arms dropping to his sides, his expression desolate.

  For a moment, I want to run to him, comfort him, tell him I didn’t mean it. That we should run away together. Ride dolphins or something. I don’t know, whatever you do in a fever dream.

  But why does all of this feel so real? The grains of sand tickling my feet, the slightly bitter salt of the air, the sound of the waves.

  The rhythmic pounding of my heart and aching of my body after coming so damn hard.

  “How could love hurt you?” He cocks his head. “That doesn’t sound like love to me.”

  “Love is just an excuse,” I say, hardening my heart. This is painful, and I shouldn’t have to do this dance even with a hallucination.

  It’d be nice to believe in love, but I’m a grown woman and I’ve seen how men are. My whole damn life, they’ve only been in my way. And love was only a weapon used to get over my walls and break my heart.

  A heart that’s far too hard to feel pity for a hallucination, even one as brokenhearted as this one seems to be.

  “I know you aren’t real, but what’s your name?” I ask.

  “Lorien,” he says softly. God, even his voice is so beautiful to me. “Call it if you ever need me.” He sighs. “Otherwise, I can’t see you in your world.”

  I cock my head, no idea what he means, but nod slowly.

  Then he’s gone, and I hear a voice as if from the wind.

  “Enjoy the ocean. Nothing here will harm you. Sweet dreams until you wake, and may I be back in your arms soon.”

  Then I’m alone, and the beautiful scene in front of me suddenly feels so empty.

  I run down the beach, looking for any sign of anyone, but everything is peaceful and still.

  I lie back on the beach for a moment, staring up at the blue sky, letting the warm sand caress me into relaxed silence.

  Then I push myself up and run out into the ocean.

  As I dive beneath an aqua-blue wave, I smile, determined to make the best of this dream before I have to wake up.

  4

  Tess

  “Have you had that hallucination again?” Jen’s tone over the phone is amused, though I can hear the concern there.

  “No,” I say. “It’s been a few days. I think I’m out of the woods.”

  My heart twinges a little as I try
not to think of that incredible kiss.

  Lorien.

  I shake my head. All nonsense.

  “I can’t believe you got drugged. I told you, go back to your old career. Stop this… revenge madness.”

  I laugh. “Nah, I got some more men to punish.”

  “Go out there and get a good man,” Jen says. “Someone to take up your time so you aren’t risking your life like this. Look, you’re never going to take down every jerk. It’s not possible.”

  I frown. “Maybe not. But I was born for this.”

  “I refuse to think you were born to stalk and punish assholes.”

  “Different strokes for different folks,” I retort.

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. You aren’t getting any ‘strokes’ at all.”

  I snort. I’m glad I didn’t give her details beyond seeing Lorien in a dream. He’s been occupying my thoughts more than I’d like.

  “You still doing book covers on the side?”

  I nod. “Yup.”

  “Another romance author complaining the hero’s nipples look too pointy?”

  “Hey, it pays bills. Not every guy I go after has any money.”

  “Aw, kicking ass pro bono. What a sweetie.”

  “You know firsthand that’s the last thing I am.”

  “No,” Jen says. “I know that’s exactly who you are beneath that pizza-guzzling, binge-drinking, mess-making—”

  “And you’re my friend why?”

  Jen’s laugh is rich and deep. “Because past all of that, the facade you try to show, you really do all of this because you’re a sweetheart. And you don’t like seeing women get hurt.”

  “No, I don’t.” I sigh. “Look, Jen. I’m happy with my life.” I resize the new nipple on my screen and move it into place, fixing the skin around it to match. “I like photoshopping nipples and supporting women who like to read romance. Even if the books themselves are full of lies.”

  “Don’t let Sandra hear you say that.”

  “Whose covers do you think I’m working on?” I shake my head.

  Jen snorts. “Sandra is fairly particular about nipples.”

  “Yup, and she knows exactly how I feel about romance and still sends me early copies of her books.”

  “Because deep down, we both know you’re a big softie who—”

  “Stop,” I say quickly. “You’re both wrong.” I eye the model on my screen who is now what most would consider sufficiently sexy. “I just like the hotties. And the mad-cap adventures.”

  “Is her latest a historical as well?”

  “Yup. She’s still as into the knight in shining armor trope as ever. Ask her to see it.”

  “I can’t,” Jen says. “You know I like to wait for the main release.”

  “Right.” I finish my last touches to the draft and stretch the guy’s bicep just slightly before looking his figure over.

  Then, for some reason, Lorien’s face comes to mind.

  I shake it away, but not before an erotic sensation moves through me, as real as the cool air in the room around me.

  Hm.

  “Hey, Jen? I gotta go. I’m sending this over and have some things to finish up—”

  “We need to get together,” she says. “Sometime when you’re not in trouble. We all need to go out and have fun again, like the good days.”

  “You mean college?” I cock my head.

  “No,” she says. “Just as us. The three of us. It’s always good days when we’re together.”

  “That’s true,” I say. I shove a pile of papers to the side, looking for the calendar where I try to remember to write things down. I’m terrible at using phone reminders. “We were drawn together from the first day basically.”

  “Inseparable ever since,” Jen agrees. “But busy. Ever since you started this—”

  “Sorry, Jen,” I say. “I really do need to go.” I don’t want another lecture about what I do at night. I just want some rest, maybe some time with a sexy book and the little pink friend I keep in my drawer.

  Spending some time with it always helps me relax at the end of a hard, nipple-perfecting day.

  “But I miss you, Jen. We’ll do something soon.”

  “All right, soon,” she says with a tone that says she’ll hold me to my promise. “Love you.”

  I pause before I respond. “Love you too, girl.”

  I hang up the phone, heart tight and pounding from even uttering the words.

  I do care for my friends, so I say it, though I’m not really sure what love means. That got twisted up for me so young. I do think I can understand platonic love, as I would die for either of my best friends.

  But romantic love from a man?

  I shake my head, remembering Lorien’s bafflement. That day at the beach in my dream seems like years away and yesterday at the same time.

  Another little spark goes through me as I think of his face again.

  Perhaps… but no. That would be naughty.

  I mean, it’s kind of disrespectful, really, but what’s he going to do about it? He doesn’t exist. Besides, even if he knew, he’d probably be like, “Yes, darling, feel everything you want.”

  At just the thought of his smooth voice saying that, I get a little hot again.

  Dammit. Stupid hallucination. So perfect. So unlike any real man.

  I walk into my room, pull off my sweatshirt, and toss it into a pile of dirty clothing. My room is a mess but not disgusting, and there’s no one to impress.

  I slide open my drawer, seeing a few books there for “inspiration” and my little pink friend.

  I pull it out and look at it admiringly. Ah yes, this thing can deliver the pleasure of a hundred men without the inconvenience of one smelly, abusive, lying—

  I suck in a deep breath, relaxing as I kick off my pants and ease back in bed in just a loose tee shirt and panties. I lie on top of the covers because it’s nice and cool with the ceiling fan and slowly rest my head back as I move my vibe between my legs.

  I close my eyes, seeking inspiration. I squirm, trying to get back in the mood I was before, but it doesn’t work.

  But then Lorien’s face is back in my mind as clear as if he lived there, and he smiles at me gently.

  Those broad shoulders, heavy muscles, face of an angel…

  My vibe jerks as I buck against it, the sensation when I think of him almost too strong to stand. Dammit.

  I picture more of him now, crawling over me in bed, his long, luxurious hair falling around his broad shoulders, his aurora eyes filled with wicked rainbows. His perfect hand reaching between my legs…

  Then an orgasm rips through me so strong I arch up against the bed, lost for words, jaw clenched. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my—

  “Lorien.” The word is soft on my lips as my vibe bucks against me and another wave hits just saying his name.

  And then, like someone just put a projector slide over my view, he’s there at the foot of the bed, looking at me with his head cocked.

  He’s wearing that stupid armor again, though his wings aren’t out.

  His eyes move from my face to the bed to my hand, which I use to quickly jerk my blanket over me as I stare up at him in pure shock.

  He doesn’t exist. He’s a figment of my imagination. I somehow conjured him through sheer lust. I—

  He bites his lower lip, genuinely confused by the situation in front of him, then looks side to side, hands on his hips. “Are you in danger?”

  I shake my head violently. This has gone far beyond hallucination. Somehow, I’ve gone insane. Tomorrow, I’ll have to call a doctor—

  “Then why did you call me, soul bond?” His smile is fond as he takes a step forward. “Did you just want to see me?”

  In my shock, my vibrator is still buzzing against me, and I jump a little when it slips to a sensitive spot.

  Lorien’s eyes jerk to my hand under the covers where I’m trying to find the button to turn off my damn vibe.

  He’s there in a seco
nd, whipping the blanket off the bed and then narrowing his gorgeous eyes on the pink thing between my legs.

  I gasp in shock, jerking when I accidentally bump it against me at the highest speed and arching accidentally since I’m still sensitive from orgasm.

  Lorien moves almost faster than I’m comfortable with, even for a hallucination. Before I know it, he has jumped forward, snatched my vibrator, and chucked it at the wall like some kind of dangerous object.

  He puts his hands on his hips and walks over to study his kill, but the vibrator just buzzes around lamely.

  He raises a foot, then crushes it down hard, and I wince, hearing my beloved, squishy pink friend finally die.

  That’s it.

  I jump out of bed. “Why did you do that?”

  He looks at me over his shoulder, so tall he’d be intimidating if not for the fact that his gaze is always so soft. But right now, his gaze is hardening, and I can tell this hallucination is losing his patience.

  He jabs a finger at the broken toy. “You called me for help, correct? That thing was attacking you.” He folds his arms and crouches down to get a closer look, peering at it like it’s a poisonous bug. “What is it? Are you hurt?”

  I blink. “What?”

  He stands and faces me, letting out a sigh as he places his broad hands on his trim hips. “Are you hurt? You were gasping and trying to get it away from you.” His brows lower. “It must have been serious since it has taken days for you to call.”

  “Call what?”

  “My name,” he says like I should have known that.

  “You aren’t real,” I say, taking a step back from him. “I mean, you had wings at one point.”

  Beams of color shoot from his back. “I still have them. I just—”

  “No,” I say, putting up a hand to shield myself from the brightness as he retracts them. It’s a beautiful sight, but not in my dingy, messy room.

  Speaking of which, Lorien finally takes a minute to look around him, pacing around the room, inspecting every corner, picking things up and setting them down.

  I just stare at him blankly. A minute ago, I was masturbating.