by Shara Lanel
She wanted him to touch her, to kiss her aching pussy. She’d never been interested in oral sex before, but then, she’d never met anyone that knew what the hell they were doing. This was a dream, and she had no doubt her dream man would be incredible, fulfilling every naughty desire her subconscious could come up with.
His gaze locked with hers and his fingers separated her labia lips. He blew softly against her clit, and she gasped. Closing her eyes, she laid her head back against the pillow and raised her hips, silently begging for him to continue.
Drake feasted on the sight of her spread before him. She was beautiful and completely uninhibited. Of course she thought this was a dream, but he knew whatever she would do in her dream, she wished to do in reality.
Leaning forward, he circled the tip of his tongue around her clit. Her taste was sweet as honey, and her moans made his ever-tightening cock twitch against his breeches. “I like how you’ve shaved your pussy,” he whispered against her. “So much easier to taste.” He slid his tongue along her slit, making her moan. “And explore.” His tongue dipped deep within her folds, lapping at her juices.
Her breasts heaved with her sighs. Perfect breasts. “Squeeze your breasts for me. Let your fingers pinch and pull at your nipples.”
He watched as her hands moved to her breasts, kneading, squeezing. Her pink nipples hardened into tiny pebbles, and he ached to take one in his mouth. Slipping two fingers into her dripping vagina, he moved upward, capturing a pert bud into his mouth. She groaned, arching her back and grinding her hips against his hand.
The woman was incredible and stretched his control to the breaking point. “Ah, that’s it, Jordan. Fuck my hand, my fingers. Pretend it’s me filling you, stretching you, making you scream with pleasure.”
“Drake,” she sighed.
He knew she was close. He could feel it in the tiny throbs against his knuckle. Shifting his hand, he curved his fingers slightly, brushing the sensitive spot on the upper side of her vagina.
“Oh, God. Yes.”
“Come for me. Scream my name,” he whispered around the tip of her breast.
She did, loudly, and Drake smiled in pleasure. He liked the sound of his name on her lips.
He continued to stroke her, gently easing her down from the high. Her eyes closed, and he softly kissed her lips. “Until the next time, my lady.”
There was so much more he had planned for her. Hopefully, he could get her to fall in love with him within what she thought was her dreams, thereby making it easier for her to accept him in reality. The plan had flaws, he knew, but it was his only option.
Jordan Taylor was his last chance to be human again.
Chapter Three
Jordan stepped into the library later that evening, laptop in hand. She still couldn’t recall removing her panties, but she’d found them on the floor after waking up. The only thing she could determine was that she’d removed them during her nap. That was an odd thing for her to do, but then, so was the dream.
The second she caught sight of her surroundings, she immediately forgot about the dream. It was amazing. A massive fireplace in which she could easily stand took up the inside wall. Oak bookshelves went from floor to ceiling, two stories high. There was a narrow balcony that circled the room on the second level, with a small hallway snaking behind the chimney, allowing access to the other side.
On the opposite wall, facing the fireplace was a massive oak desk, flanked by two tall windows. The perfect place for her to write. Setting her computer down, she searched for the outlet and plugged it in. Staring at the blank screen, the only thing she could think of to write was her dream. Might as well, she could use it later. With a shrug, she began to type.
Sitting there in the quiet room, the only sound distant pops and cracks made by the settling house, an eerie feeling snaked up her spine. It was as though she were being watched. Her fingers stopped on the keyboard, and she glanced around, expecting to see someone standing next to her. Nothing.
It’s an old house, Jordan. It’s bound to have ghosts. Ignore it.
She turned back to her computer screen, determined to ignore the feeling. A soft, warm breeze blew against the side of her neck, and she jerked around to look over her shoulder. There was no one there. Shifting her gaze to the window, she noticed that the curtain was still. No wind ruffled it, even a little. Goose bumps spread up her arm, and she tried to brush aside her growing unease.
There is no such things as ghosts. Period.
“I brought you some tea, Miss Jordan.”
Jordan screamed, her hand flying to her chest as she spun around to face Kimberly.
“I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Jordan nodded and took one last glance behind her. Still nothing. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she took several deep breaths to try to calm herself. “I think I’m just letting my imagination run away with me.”
“It’s an old house, Miss Jordan. There are bound to be noises and strange happenings.”
Jordan didn’t miss the strange look Kimberly shot over her shoulder as she set the tea tray down. With a frown, she peeked behind her just to make sure Kimberly wasn’t actually talking to someone, but as before, Jordan saw no one.
God, I’m losing my mind.
“Would you like some tea, dear?” Kimberly asked, the pot poised and ready to pour.
“Yes. I would love some,” she answered with a smile. Maybe it would help calm her rattled nerves.
“Hot Earl Grey. Just the thing to relieve stress.”
“Just like Captain Picard.” Jordan took the delicate china teacup and grinned.
“Oh, yes. Now there is a Frenchman I could sink my teeth into.”
Jordan almost choked on her tea. “You watch Star Trek?”
“Of course. I’m fascinated with the idea of space travel. Your grandfather got me hooked on the show.”
A smile spread Jordan’s lips at the mention of her grandfather. He’d dragged her along to more than one Star Trek convention over the years. He had loved the show.
“Kimberly. How long did my grandfather own this house?”
She thought for a second before answering. “Almost twenty-five years, I’m guessing. You didn’t know he owned it?”
“No. I didn’t. Which I find really strange.” Jordan shrugged. “But I guess that’s a secret I’ll never know the answer to.”
“Maybe you will one day.”
“Maybe.” She took a sip of her tea and watched Kimberly, who continued to stare at something behind her, then her gaze followed whatever it was to the leather sofa flanking the left side of the desk.
“Does this house have ghosts?” Jordan asked.
Kimberly’s eyes widened slightly. “Why do you ask that?”
“I’ve heard weird noises and sometimes I feel as though I’m being watched.” Jordan gave a slight shudder. “It’s very unnerving.”
A small grin touched Kimberly’s lips before she hid it behind her teacup. “As I said, this is an old house, Miss Jordan, almost four hundred years old. It’s bound to make all kinds of noises. But as far as ghosts are concerned, if there were any, I doubt they would hurt you.”
Jordan smiled sheepishly. “I know. I’ve never really believed in ghosts myself. I’ve always had the attitude that I would have to see one first to believe, but there’s just something about this place I can’t explain. It’s weird.”
“Your grandfather had that same impression when he first arrived. Eventually, you’ll get used to the house’s little oddities.” Kimberly rose and placed her cup on the tray. “Would you like more tea?”
Jordan shook her head. “No, but thanks, anyway. I’ve got to get to work on my next story outline before my editor has my head.”
Kimberly nodded and took the cup from Jordan’s outstretched hand. “Have you decided on your next story?”
Jordan glanced down at the computer screen and grinned. “I think I have. I’m doing an erotic ghost st
ory.”
*
An erotic ghost story, Drake thought with a lopsided grin. Had his little impromptu liaison spurred that idea? He liked to think so. He’d thought of little else since this afternoon. The sight of her creamy skin and splayed thighs had tormented him, making his cock harden painfully. Even her jasmine scent still lingered in his mind. It reminded him of the flowers in the garden.
He had every intention of burying himself inside that hot passage of hers. Jordan was a beautiful and passionate woman and, from what he’d read over her shoulder before Kimberly came into the room, a very good writer.
He would eventually have to reveal himself to her, not just be her dream lover. It was a great way to have a little fun, but he needed her to fall in love with him. Her grandfather’s letter said he would have to tread lightly with her, because she’d recently had her heart broken. Which meant she wouldn’t easily trust him. Which could be a problem.
Unfortunately, the curse said he also had to fall in love with her. Love was something he’d never put much stock in. His mother had been in love with his father and it had brought the woman nothing but heartache, because his father didn’t return that love. He would never put a woman through that kind of pain nor did he want to experience it himself.
Love was virtually nonexistent within the nobility. Even today, they still arranged marriages. Blue-blood to blue-blood, nothing else was acceptable. Could he love her?
He watched her facial expressions as her fingers flew across the keys. Drake didn’t know her that well, only what her grandfather had told him over the years. He knew she was a writer, a little stubborn and a lot compassionate. He knew she loved cats and was scared to death of spiders. With a grin, he remembered how she whimpered just before she came.
Her fingers stopped and a frown marred her brow. She stared at the screen, pursing her lips as though rethinking what she’d written. Suddenly, her gaze turned to his. Drake’s breathing increased as they locked eyes. He was invisible and there was no way she could see him, but he’d swear she knew he was there. It was like they were connected in some way, and the thought unsettled him.
She closed her eyes and turned her head back to the computer. With a slight shudder, she reopened them and resumed typing. The sound of her nails clicking on the keys was the only noise in the room. Drake’s breathing returned to normal, and he moved to stand behind her, reading the words over her shoulder.
His fingers were soft as they trailed up her leg, the smoldering fire within his eyes branding her naked flesh. “Come to me, my lady. Let me make you mine.”
Jordan’s fingers froze. “Where the hell did that come from?” she mumbled.
Drake smiled to himself. “Come to me, my lady,” he whispered in her mind.
Jordan jerked around at the sound of the voice in her head. Okay, this is getting a little weird.
It was one thing to type words without conscious thought. She’d done it before when she was deep within the character, but now she was hearing things in her head. Rubbing at her eyes, she decided to shut down the computer and turn in early. It had probably just been a long day and the jet lag was affecting her in odd ways.
Tomorrow, she’d begin exploring the house in earnest. She wanted to see what all was here and if there was anything of her grandfather’s hidden within the home.
Stopping at the door, she took one last look around the room. She hated this feeling of being watched. It made her nervous. “Okay, ghost, or whatever you are. Keep to yourself, and you and I will be just fine.”
As she left the room, she could have sworn she heard a man’s laughter.
Chapter Four
With a sigh, Jordan sank further into the garden tub. Warm, lavender-scented water covered her shoulders, and she rested her head against the tub pillow. Candlelight flickered, reflecting in the mirror and the gray tile that surrounded the room. It was such a beautiful bathroom, so elegant with its polished tile and gold faucets.
Closing her eyes, she felt herself relax and the tension leave her body. It felt good to just sit here and think of nothing. She was glad she came to England. She needed the time away to rethink her life and, hopefully, heal her broken heart.
A prickly sensation moved along her flesh. She felt as though she wasn’t alone, and opened her eyes to stare into the same blue ones she’d seen this afternoon. A tremor shook her at the intensity of his stare. She must have fallen asleep again, for her dream lover had arrived. “You again,” she said.
He smiled and a small dimple deepened in one cheek. He had to be a dream. He was too gorgeous to be anything else.
“May I join you, my lady?” His voice was deep and husky, sending warmth through her veins.
“If you wish.”
He shed his clothing as he moved toward her, and Jordan let her eyes travel down his body. A wide chest tapered down to a washboard stomach and narrow hips. He let his breeches fall to the floor and his long, thick erection stood proud against his lower abdomen. Jordan sucked in a breath at the magnificent sight before her. Her whole body ached to have him next to her, over her, inside her.
She sat up straight and allowed him to slide in behind her. He tugged at her shoulders, pulling her back against him. Resting her palm on his thighs, she sifted her fingers through the coarse hair on his legs. “Are you really just a figment of my imagination?” she asked.
“I am whatever you would like for me to be. Does an imaginary lover suit you better?” His warm breath fanned across her neck, and she tilted her head to the side, allowing him better access.
“Yes.” Soft lips nipped at the sensitive flesh behind her ear.
“Why? Wouldn’t you rather have a real lover?”
Would she? “No. Dream lovers are much better. No chance of losing your heart and getting hurt.”
“Have you been hurt, Jordan?”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes and tried not to think about her former boyfriend. She should have listened to Nina and not given him a second chance. Hindsight was twenty-twenty and you could always see your mistakes after the fact.
Something about this dream felt strange. Most of the time, her dreams were jumbled and made little sense. Right now she felt far from jumbled. As a matter of fact, she felt very awake and aware of everything Drake was doing.
His palms brushed across her nipples, making them harden like pebbles and her breasts thickened, aching for his touch. Slowly, his fingers moved lower to tangle in the hair at the juncture of her thighs. The hard steel of his cock pressed into her back, and she wiggled against it, making him groan.
With one hand, he raised her hair and kissed the back of her neck. “You’re quite the temptress.”
A tiny smile lifted one corner of her lips. No one had ever called her a temptress. All Josh had ever called her was cold. He said she didn’t have a passionate side and, until this afternoon, she’d believed him. She’d always wondered why she could write it, but never feel it. Now she did feel it.
But I’m feeling it with a dream—how is that any different from writing it? It’s still my imagination and not real.
Jordan quickly stood in the tub and shivered as the cool air hit her wet skin. Grabbing a towel off the rack, she wrapped it around herself and padded barefoot to the bedroom. Could she only feel passion in her dreams and imagination, and not in real life? Was make-believe the only place she could be turned on?
Warm hands rested gently atop her shoulders. “What’s bothering you, Jordan?”
She turned to stare into understanding blue eyes and, without thinking, blurted it out. “I wish I could feel these things with a real person.”
“What things?”
“Desire, passion. My heart races like a runaway train whenever you touch me.”
The back of his fingers slid from her neck to the tops of her breasts that were barely visible above the towel. “What makes you think you can’t?”
“I haven’t before. Not until you. But you’re not even real.”<
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His finger tipped up her chin and brought her lips to his. “I’m as real as you wish me to be.”
His lips were warm and tender against hers, and she sighed, the sound getting lost inside his mouth as he deepened the kiss. Never in her life had someone kissed her like this. The way his tongue mated with hers stole her very breath. He tugged at the towel, letting it fall to the floor, and her body molded to his hot flesh.
He tasted of mint and coffee, and for a second—but only for a second—she thought it strange that she would notice such a small detail in a dream. One arm moved behind her knees and he lifted her, carrying her with ease to the bed. Placing her in the center, his lips worked a slow path up her stomach. He circled one sensitive nipple with his tongue, while his fingers pulled at the other. “Such beautiful breasts. A man could feast on these for days.”
Jordan whimpered, wanting him to take the bud fully into his mouth and suck, hard. Unfortunately, or fortunately, she wasn’t sure which, he continued to tease, prolonging her torture until she thought she would scream. His fingers moved between her legs and her hips lifted from the bed, silently begging for his touch. He obliged, sliding his finger along her wet slit.
“You’re driving me crazy, Drake,” she groaned, desperate for his touch deep inside her.
In answer, he bit at the flesh below her ear, making her body tingle. She wanted to touch every part of him and her hands began to explore his hard physique, feeling the muscles twitch beneath her touch. One of his fingers invaded her dripping pussy, and she gripped his biceps, digging her nails into his flesh.
“Touch me, Jordan,” he commanded. “I want to feel your fingers wrapped around my cock.”
With trembling hands, she reached lower and wrapped her fingers around his hard cock. He was thick and it throbbed with life as she stroked and squeezed. A drop of pre-cum escaped and she twirled it around the head with her thumb. Drake growled deep in his throat and pushed a second finger deep within her.