Saved Between the Sheets: An Anthology of Stories that Get to the Point

by R. M. Walker

  “No,” he growled, lowering his head to my panties and nuzzling me there while my toes half-heartedly moved against his shoulderblades, calves pressing into his hair. His fingertips flirted with the lace trims, slipping underneath and skimming along the edges of my folds. If he’d been happy with how wet I was before, he was about to be over the moon.

  I lifted my hips needily, moving them in sync with his strokes. He kissed my belly button before widening his mouth against my lower stomach, the wet of his tongue trailing along my skin. His teeth grazed my abdomen, fingers playing with me underneath the lace. He released a deep sigh of satisfaction, and then bit the top of my panties, pulling them over my hips slowly with his teeth.

  My legs slackened their hold on him as the lace inched away and I was entirely revealed to him. But he didn’t look down; instead, he kept his eyes steady on mine as the panties curled down my thighs, dragged downward between his teeth. I just about burst out of my skin. He’d been right– it was sexy, to be lured to forbidden deeds with a sexy stranger– but as this dream progressed, I was wishing more and more to see the man behind the mask.

  He drew the damp panties off my toes and flung them to the side, where they disappeared into the nothingness outside this bed. Then he shoved my legs far apart and held my thighs wide, looking down at me.

  His eyes examined my whole body. They took in my wrists, tied to the bedposts above my head, my lips that were slightly parted with light pants of anticipation. His gaze crawled over my breasts and lingered there for a moment, his smile growing. And then it fell to the place between my legs, where my need for him was totally exposed. There was relief in the vulnerability, in the inability to do anything but give in. Physical weakness was something I couldn’t ever remember feeling, and the thought of myself as a normal woman – one who wouldn’t crush a man with sexual vigor, but who could instead feel the full weight of a masculine body on top of her – was without comparison–

  No way did I want to miss out on this, even if it was a dream.

  He collapsed over me, his strong muscles barely holding his body taut as he straddled me, careful not to let a single part of his skin touch mine. Not yet.

  I took in his chiseled form, his broad shoulders and corded arms. Damn, my dreams made them good.

  “What do you want me to do first?” he whispered, leaning in as if he were going to kiss my ear and then pulling away. A shiver ran down my center, settling pleasantly between my legs.

  “Anything you like,” I answered. I wanted to take full advantage of this lucid dreaming thing.

  Full. Fucking. Advantage.

  “It will be a good dream, I promise,” he said in answer to my thoughts. And then he swept his hand between my legs, watching as my face contorted into an expression of delight. His fingers slipped between my folds, gliding back and forth easily as he circled my clit. He inserted a finger and I bucked as his finger curled inward, seeking to find and take advantage of that spot deep inside that craved his touch.

  “More,” I whispered.

  A second finger slipped inside, and I couldn’t help the groan that escaped me. I heard him laugh and my eyes flashed open.

  “You like that,” he murmured, taking me in.

  I nodded vigorously, all the words I wanted to express instead drowned out by a small gasp as his fingers thrust deeper into me. I moved my hips in circles, wanting to be filled. Wanting his tongue on me, his cock inside me. I tensed around his two fingers, drawing my muscles in tight to show him what I would do to him when he finally found his way inside me.

  “Mmm,” he said with a devious glint in his eyes. “Now who’s showing off?”

  The force of his fingers increased as they plummeted into my depths. He was working me to the brink of all that my body was capable of, my legs shuddering around him as he forced them wide. My arms jerked against the ribbon that held them captive, entire body ready to explode.

  He pulled his fingers out suddenly, and spread my wetness along me, fingertips wiping over my clit. They stayed there a moment, rubbing back and forth as I squirmed.

  “I’m going to come,” I gasped.

  “Don’t,” he commanded and I swallowed, wondering if it was possible to obey, had I even wanted to.

  I heard the sound of my own ragged breath, pacifying me so that I could hold in the orgasm as he demanded. Unfortunately, I kept imagining his lower abs rippling under his skin as his hand worked on me, and it was nearly unbearable to keep from coming.

  “Please,” I begged. He laughed again, and in the sound, I heard his denial.

  He pressed a warm hand against my abdomen, scooting the other one underneath my body to cup my ass. And then he buried his head between my legs and my back arched involuntarily, hips lifting higher to meet his tongue. I want to hook my fingers in his hair, claw at him with the passion he incited in my body.

  One of my hands came free from its restraint. Perk of lucid dreaming, that.

  I reached down and clutched at his thick curls, black strands wound around my fingers. I squeeze and he moaned into my pussy, his hot breath and the rumble of his vocal cords waking new sensations. His mouth became ravenous as he licked me, reinvigorated by the reward of my touch.

  After a moment, he looked up with a crooked smile and my fingers dropped from his head. “You are supposed to be tied up,” he said deviously.

  In protest, I pushed the hand he’d laid against my abdomen down, directing his thumb to my clit. “Finish me, and you can come inside.”

  His head disappeared back down between my thighs. Deeper kisses warmed me, his tongue painting long, wide strokes. It explored further inside and I breathed in slowly, waiting in anticipation of things I had no control over. He pushed my legs wider, hungry to sink his face into me. I moaned, thrashing as he drove me up the rollercoaster of sensation. The tip of his tongue drew a line, trailing up along my folds. It circled slowly, giving my clit a wide berth. And then he finally flicked his tongue right across my clit and I jumped out of my skin.

  “Oh my god, stop teasing me,” I breathed, a whole range of sounds that I didn’t know how to express built up in my throat. It was the first time I’d ever felt, with any awareness from outside a dream, the distinct feeling of being a creature who was also a vessel for something beyond myself.

  He didn’t listen. Instead, he flicked his tongue back and forth, and then found rhythm again circling. “Yes,” I whispered over and over as if to myself. Two fingers plunged into me, and I screamed out in surprise, the sound quickly tumbling into blissful, breathy laughter. He had me so close.

  He groaned against me in acknowledgment of his well-received move. His arms wrapped around my legs, and I was sure I’d never felt such ecstasy before – inside a dream or out.

  My breath became shallow as I skirted the edges of an orgasm. All I had to do was imagine his cock driving inside me. I peaked, and then it fell away just as quickly as it had come, my fear of a shattering orgasm with dire consequences leaking into my subconscious.

  But he offered me brief relief, creeping his touch over my whole body piece by piece, working his way up. He paused to spend time on my nipples, drawing soft circles around them and watching as they puckered. He bent his head down to lick them, and a hiss escaped through my teeth. Taking my wrist into his hand, he tied me back to the bedpost. He tightened both sides so that I had even less range of motion than before.

  “I want you in my mouth,” I said, suddenly desperate to feel his girth. I wanted to see him incapacitated with the sensation of my mouth around his cock, to watch that moment unfold on his face where he knew that even though I was the one tied up, he was more vulnerable than me.

  I wanted to watch him writhe the same way he’d made me writhe.

  I opened my mouth for him, luring him closer with the look in my eye. He crawled over me, coming slowly to balance his hips over my neck. He put a hand on his dick, directing it between my lips.

  I wouldn’t take him all at once – not yet. I all
owed him to push in the tip before I closed my mouth around it. I licked it, twisting my tongue around the head and kissing it. My kisses grew wider and wider, permitting his cock to enter deeper and deeper. He groaned, the sound virile and animalistic. It was like a drug for my libido; I wanted to hear his pleasure as much as he expected to hear mine.

  “Like that,” he sighed, dropping his head back as his eyes closed. “Just like that.” His hips began to gently thrust, his cock finding its way deeper into my throat. Here, I had a front-row seat to the abs I’d so desperately wanted to see undulate with his every heightened breath.

  I hummed my satisfaction against his cock and he growled with pleasure. I swirled my tongue and sucked hard, then bobbed my head up and down along his length in rhythm with his thrusts. I grazed the edge of my teeth along his tip, giving it a peck as he withdrew. The deep guttural sound coming from him seemed to be a good sign.

  “I need to be inside you,” he said, quietly, desperately. “Now.”

  He grabbed my body and flipped me so that he was beneath me. My tied hands crossed one another without much give; no escape for either of us, just my naked body lying atop his.

  As he set hands on my hips to position me, I found myself afraid again. I didn’t want to plant the seeds of that image in my imagination: me, enjoying myself a little too much at a bad angle, and him, screaming as his cock split in half. “I wanted you on top,” he murmured. “Is this okay?”

  I stared down into those deep blue eyes that seemed to go on forever, knowing that there was something more being asked of me. I didn’t know what to say. All I wanted to do was take off that mask.

  What was behind it? Would he be a blank canvas for my subconscious to process my wants and fears? Or was he somehow a real man that I’d encounter again one day, who I had the chance at feeling as close to in real life as I seemed to feel in this dream?

  “Take off your mask,” I answered.

  He smiled, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear, and lifted his hand to his face to remove the mask.

  I woke up.

  * * *

  I sat in at my desk, pressing my palms into my eyes and feeling equal parts exhausted and invigorated. My damned imagination had run its course, and where did it land me? Back at square one, with all the same questions I’d had when it started.

  Would Elle ever have steaming hot sex without being afraid her freak super strength would break dicks and-slash-or make men feel emasculated?

  And, even more pressing: who was Mystery Man?

  I may have been well versed in the art of Googling, but there was no question that my “masked man gorgeous blue eyes sets pussy on fire” would not yield the results I wanted. Besides, if the government was really watching me that closely, I didn’t exactly want that on my browser history.

  Instead, I found myself Googling “super strong woman kitten,” curious whether or not the internet knew of all the good I’d done for Metroshire’s vast pet population. The good news was that I’d largely achieved my goal; it didn’t seem anyone knew that Elle McCloskey, Head Architect’s Assistant, was living a double life right under the entire world’s nose. The bad news was that after scrolling through a page of porn links, I found the Yelp reviews.

  “As the owner of a no-kill shelter, I have to say that this woman is a true hero. She saved that litter of kittens after they were kidnapped by the the underground fur trade, and now ALL FIVE have homes! A star for every kitten!” Nancy Joy S., 5/5 stars.

  “Definitely the most underrated of all the supers. No one knows who she is, and a woman with a little mystery is sexy as hell. Can’t wait to see more tho.” Chris T., 4/5 stars.

  “Ew,” I complained to my screen, also feeling a little offended he’d withheld a star for no discernable reason.

  A little mystery is sexy as hell. I groaned, not altogether sure if the sound was exasperation or longing. Why did I care so damned much about a guy who’d taken me into his arms without permission? What had it been about him that’d made his passes palatable?

  Maybe it’d been the way he’d looked at my eyes instead of my boobs before sticking his tongue down my throat. That had been nice.

  The images of Des and Dari’s distraught faces as I left the Broad Squad HQ popped into my mind, thoroughly wiping away my visions of Mystery Man. Could they possibly be right about this whole thing? And if they were, was I even feminist enough to qualify for their ragtag team, or brave enough to take on something as enormous as the Arc de la Patrie?

  My eyes skimmed the handful of reviews, landing on the very first one I’d earned. It was a one-star from Alan O.: “How is a woman stronger than me? I go to the gym EVERY DAY and this chick is a twig.”

  The sharp memory of Luke Wilcox from second grade settled on my mind. I remembered it clearly, the emotions it’d elicited over the years contouring the fears I’d grown into: he’d blocked me from climbing up the playscape, trying to intimidate me in the way my step-mother excused as a crush. When I’d shoved past him, he’d flown back a few feet and landed roughly in the playscape gravel with tears welling in his eyes.

  “Elle McCloskey?” one of Luke’s friends had said, pointing a finger at me and moving in front of Luke to hide his friend from the “shame” of his tears. “I think you mean Elle McCLOBBER!”

  McClobber, McClobber, McClobber, it echoed in my head now cartoonishly.

  I clicked open the single comment beneath the one-star review, wondering why I was feeling so inclined to take a dose of masochism with my morning coffee. It was written by a Destiny W.: “She’s probably powered by her burning rage against the patriarchy and all of these ignorant reviews, dumbass.”

  Before I knew it, my fingers were dancing across the keyboard, and I was taking in all the information about Etienne E. Coque and his Arc de la Patrie that I could find.

  Chapter Four

  “I’m in,” I said as the door swung open and I found myself face to face with Dari. “I looked up Coque, and he has a pretty suspicious track record of paying off women who spoke out against nasty workplace allegations. If that’s the kind of legacy he’s trying to uphold in Metroshire, we’ve got to do something about it.”

  From over Dari’s shoulder, I saw Des. She was staring at me, a triumphant grin slowly emerging on her face.

  “Oh,” I added, “and I’m gonna need a name for my badass alter ego.”

  Dari scrambled to the computer chair, spinning around to face the screen. “We used a name generator to get ours… I just… need… to input some basic details. Height?” She glanced over at me, and the typed something in. “Hair color… blonde, eyes… blue. Power: strength. Occupation… fem-i-nist. Overall looks. Average?”

  She stared at me a moment analytically and then nodded to herself, clicking the return button with emphasis and leaning back in her seat. “Results are in. Brawn-asaraus.”

  “Eh, seems a little outdated,” I said.

  “Her-cules.”

  I crinkled up my nose. “HERcules?”

  “If you can’t say it with confidence, then it’s not the name for you,” Des interjected. She straightened to a generic superhero stance and beat her breast. “DesiRay!”

  Gaydar leaped to her feet to mimic the action, leaving her chair revolving behind her. “Gaydar!” She said dramatically, like an actress who’d been told all her life she was going to make it. Then she peered back down at the results, scrolling a bit.

  “Hinder-Ella?”

  I laughed, and then stopped abruptly when I saw Des’ face. “Why are you laughing?” she asked. “Your name is Elle and you ran away from a ball-thingy.”

  “Don’t worry, I flee all the balls too, girl,” Dari said sympathetically.

  “What about this one?” Des leaned into the screen, reading out loud: “FemiFist.”

  I shrugged. “Kinda corny, but kinda catchy?”

  “Kinda perfect,” Des said, straightening to look at me as she crossed her arms. “Welcome to the team, FemiFist.”

/>   “Ooooh, that is going to blow up on Twitter,” Dari said with a gleeful shine in her eyes. She cracked her knuckles.

  “Twitter?” I frowned.

  “Yeah, we do a lot of Tweeting here. Hashtags are important for, like, relevance.”

  “What exactly do you Tweet about?”

  “‘Member The Ripple?” Des asked, setting a hand on her hip as Dari typed away in the background, paused, backspaced on letter at a time, and then typed some more.

  “Yeah… the super chick with the blue hair,” I said, “who had, like, supersonic waves she could send through the air?” The name rang of controversy, but I only vaguely remembered her between the politicians and socialites who’d gotten more coverage.

  “She’s been onto Coque since the beginning,” Des explained. “It’s why she started the Broad Squad. Unfortunately, she and the rest of the team went to go protest the Arc de la Patrie. Because they were all known supers, the government sent the military in as a precaution, but Rip had to go all supersonic on everyone. She let out a blast so hard that it tore all the girls’ clothes off. They all got arrested for rioting, and of course public exhibitionism.”

  “#FreeTheRipple is trending right now,” Gaydar said with a sigh, turning back to us. “Just figured that one was like, two birds with one stone, you know?”

  “Anyway, we’re the only two left.” Des nodded. “Well, three now.”

  “Why weren’t you two protesting?”

  “My super suit was at the dry cleaners,” Des said remorsefully, “I used it for roleplay.”

  “I had the runs.” Dari shrugged.

  “So...” I cleared my throat. “What’s the plan?”

  I sat down in one of the office chairs that had thick, fake leather cracking down the middle. Des hunched over the table, where a blueprint of the Arc lay unfurled. Her fingers traced the gridlines as she pointed out their strategy.

  “We have intel that the Arc will power up as soon as the clock strikes midnight at the grand opening. Now that you can kick down walls and shit, we have a way in. You’ll go into the Arc, taking out the men one by one. I’ll be your eyes on the ground, letting you know when guards are heading in your direction. Dari will take on the crowd, using her powers of suggestion to vacate the vicinity as much as possible.”