by Nicole
Something moved slowly, gently, tantalizingly over her face, ears and neck. Sheer silk. Butterfly wings. Softness that made her skin tingle.
As she opened her eyes, Sheridan was surprised to see that her bedroom wasn’t dark. Candles, all shapes, sizes and colors flickered around the room, a heady mixture of aromas wafted through the air. And the softness gliding effortlessly over her were fingertips,
Interested but strangely not alarmed (it was, after all, only a dream) Sheridan turned her head on the pillow. Her lips and nose brushed an unfamiliar face .She could see black hair, enormous dark blue eyes, slender nose, high cheekbones, and full lips, smiling mysteriously at her from a sleek oval face.
“Hello, Sheridan,” he murmured. It was a deep, husky voice.
“Hello,” she replied casually. “Do I know you?” Now, of course, it sounded incredibly stupid, but at the time, it seemed an appropriate question.
“Very well,” he chuckled, “but not nearly as well as you soon will.”
As she looked into those eyes, she felt she did know him somehow. She just couldn’t remember. “How do I know you? What’s your name?”
“Shhhh. You think too much. You need to feel. This is a dream. Let yourself go, Sheridan.” To make his point, he put his mouth on hers, and ran his tongue along her lips until they parted, almost by themselves. Swiftly, hungrily, he explored every part of it, as his fingers continued to play over her warm flesh. The combination of sensations sent shock waves of half-forgotten pleasure rolling through her.
Carefully, he pulled back the covers and pushed them to the foot of the bed. The expected blast of cold air didn’t come. Those unbelievably soft fingers moved down her chin and throat and stopped on the top button of her sunflower flannel nightgown. In a moment, it was sliding over her head and off the edge of the bed. Still, she wasn’t cold. In fact, her body was very warm.
The stranger had suddenly shed his clothes, black pants and shirt she thought, and was lying against her, his skin smooth and glistening in the candlelight.
“You are so beautiful,” he said tenderly. “I wanted you the first moment I saw you.” Leaning over, he kissed her again, still gently, still searching with his tongue. As his bare chest connected with her breast, he took her other nipple in his fingers and began to roll it between his fingers, feeling it harden in response.
“Where…? What…?” The words formed but were lost in the burst of pleasure of his touch on her breast.
“Don’t talk,” he repeated, more breathlessly than before. “Just let me touch you. Taste you. I knew the moment I first looked into your eyes. I could have snapped my fingers and had you then, but I needed for you to want me as I want you. I knew how frightened, how bitter you’d become. Cut yourself off. I had to steal into your life so you could come to trust me. Care about me. Love me.”
Small, wet kisses trailed down from Sheridan’s lips as he changed his position slightly to expose her breast. Quickly, his tongue brought that nipple to the same hardness that his fingers had accomplished on the other side. The feel of his tongue playing over the sensitive area made her gasp with delight.
“That night you fell asleep,” he breathed. “You were so beautiful in the firelight. Your skin pink and flushed. Little lights in your dark hair. I picked you up and you were light as a feather as I laid you on this bed. It was like unwrapping a beautiful Christmas present. Every layer of clothing revealed another part of your exquisite body. Your feet. Legs. Arms. Breasts. Ass.”
She felt his hand slide down from her breast, across her stomach and into the black curls below her belly button.
“I ran my hands over your body and it was like satin, and I wanted you so badly my body ached. But I knew it wasn’t right. That you weren’t ready. Now you are.” His fingers moved farther south, finally reaching their goal.
Sheridan’s body quivered as he massaged her clit. It had been so long since a man had touched her, loved her… All she could do was make little mewling sounds. He seemed to know her body exactly. She could feel the heat and excitement building rapidly inside her.
His mouth moved from her breast, followed his fingers south, and marked his journey with kisses and flicks of his tongue down her stomach. The feel of his hot breath as he wound his way through her pubic hair made her squirm, but he never faltered. He gently nudged her thighs apart and settled between them, her private, intimate secrets now exposed to his gentle exploration.
Finally, his mouth arrived to replace his fingers. As his tongue began fondling her, Sheridan couldn’t believe the sensation. This hadn’t been something her ex had been comfortable with and her knowledge of this particular expression of physical passion was extremely limited. She was afraid that the combination of his attention and the length of time since she’d been with a man would bring her to climax in another breath.
Perhaps he sensed her urgency as he slowed his tongue, and moved slightly from the pleasure point and began to suck gently on her wet flesh.
“You taste so good,” he mumbled, his voice now only a harsh whisper. “Like sweet, warm honey. I’ve dreamed of how you’d feel. Smell. Taste. My wildest dreams, though, pale with the reality.” That tongue began to massage her again, alternating long, slow, delicate strokes with quick, furious pressure.
Sheridan’s head was spinning, her body trembling with the intensity of feeling. Never had she experienced such passion, such physical pleasure, even in her marriage. She felt as if she were going to explode, literally.
“That’s right,” he encouraged, taking his mouth from her only long enough to take a breath. “Let me give you this gift. Release yourself to me and let me feel your passion, your joy.”
She felt her body tense, grabbed the sheet with one hand and his hair with the other. For a moment, she was struck by how soft and silky his black hair was and then everything was blotted out in a moment of shattering bliss. She made some kind of noise, her back arched, rainbows and stars fountained through her like victory skyrockets. It felt like she was suspended in some kind of perfect web of pleasure.
When it was over, Sheridan lay on her back, panting like an exhausted animal, unable to move. Completely, thoroughly, utterly drained. When she could finally think again, she opened her eyes. All she could see were those incredible eyes watching her over her own pubic hair. She didn’t need to see his mouth; she could see the smile of satisfaction in his eyes.
After a few moments, he touched her hips, and rolled her gently onto her stomach. She couldn’t have resisted even if she’d wanted to. Tenderly, he pulled her to him, raised her hips so that she was on her hands and knees, face turned to one side, resting on the pillow. She felt his hot, erect cock rub against her ass.
“You have the most beautiful ass I’ve ever seen,” he breathed. “Round and white and perfect.” To make his point, he bent down and kissed each cheek.
Sheridan was so wet he slid in effortlessly. Again, this was not a position she had a great familiarity with. Having married young, a virgin, her ex had insisted on being in charge of this area of their lives just as he ruled all the other aspects. He had very definite ideas about sex and this hadn’t been included in them.
“You feel so good,” he mumbled. “Just like I knew you would. Relax. Feel me. Feel yourself.”
There were so many sensations. Not just the heat of him filling her to bursting but the friction of his body rubbing against her ass, his hands kneading her cheeks. And even though she had just come, she could feel herself beginning to build again. It was something that had never happened to her before, but the feeling was unmistakable.
Again, he seemed to almost read her mind. “It’s the position. Most humans don’t understand that we’re animals. This is how we made love for millennia. The really sensual, sensitive nerve endings are in the front not the back. When a man mounts from the back, he contacts with those places. You feel it, don’t you?”
Some kind of noise came out of her, that same sort of animal in heat sound she’d ma
de before. But she didn’t care now about anything except the feel of this man inside her and the waves of pleasure that were cresting and shuddering through her body.
Sheridan became aware that his strokes were getting harder, faster. She felt his body slapping against hers, the sound of wet flesh grinding together, his fingers digging into her cheeks. And instinctively, she began to rock back and forth, in sync with this stranger in their timeless dance of passion.
“Oh…oh…” he moaned, gripping her tightly. As the first tremors of his climax arrived, they touched off her own. The fireworks erupted again, as brilliant and shattering as the one just passed, joined with this dream creature in an experience more passionate, more wonderful than any that had ever taken place in her real world.
Spent, he slipped out and fell to the bed beside her. He pulled her to him; they lay together, eyes closed, and listened to their hearts return to normal rhythms, bodies slick with a sheen of passion. As their breathing became more regular, she felt herself slip back to sleep. Of course, the rational part of her brain told her she’d been asleep all along. This whole thing was just a dream.
She put out her hand, and felt his warm soft hair under her fingers.
“Thank you,” she mumbled dreamily as she stepped off into blackness.
Sheridan thought he answered her but couldn’t clearly make out the words. It sounded, for all the world, like a deep growl. Or maybe even a purr.
Chapter Six
Not surprisingly, the candles, exotic scents and romantic stranger were gone when she opened her eyes the next morning. Even her flannel nightie was in place, buttoned all the way to her neck. Beside her, Nick was coiled tightly against the morning chill, blue eyes closed. She lay for several blissful minutes, reliving the dream in her head. It had been so real…so… Well, not like any dream she’d ever had before.
Sighing heavily, she flipped off the covers and stood up. Nick opened his eyes but made no effort to move from where he was. Normally, the slightest movement would rouse him. This morning, however, he seemed perfectly content to stay where he was. Only his eyes moved, watching her as she yawned and stretched.
“Good morning, Sleepyhead,” she teased. “Are you getting out of bed this morning or have you decided to sleep in?”
His whiskers fidgeted a little and the pink tip of tongue showed but nothing else.
“Suit yourself. You know where I’ll be if you want me.”
Just as she was stepping into the shower, he roused himself enough to saunter into the bathroom and take his spot on the vanity so that he could watch her. This morning, though, he didn’t seem to be studying her with the same intensity that he usually did. Perhaps the novelty of seeing her naked was wearing off.
“Don’t forget,” she told him after breakfast as she moved over to the window to let him out. “I have to stop at the grocery store tonight so I’ll probably run a little late. I’ve decided though, that if King John and the Prince of Darkness pull another dirty trick like sticking me with the errand girl routine, I’ll call the super and have him let you in, no later than six. It’s too damn cold for you to have to suffer because I work for a group of assholes. See ya tonight.”
*
Diana Kessler always reminded Sheridan of a little girl. It wasn’t just her short size. At five foot one, barely one hundred pounds, she was smaller even than Sheridan, although they shared the same age. Mousy brown hair which never changed shade or length, cut short and curly, matching mousy brown eyes, pert nose, rosebud mouth, round face. She looked like one of those illustrations of ten-year-olds from 1940’s elementary readers.
She was one of those girls who’s voted most popular in the seventh grade and then disappears without a trace in high school. Not stupid exactly, just not quite the sharpest knife in the drawer. Prone to giggles. Incurable flirt. The kind of classmate that set your teeth on edge at twelve. At thirty-something, divorced, saddled with elderly, demanding parents and no life of her own, she was virtually unbearable.
To most of her fellow workers, that is. Fortunately for her, though, not to the Director, Mr. Curtin.
Six and a half years earlier, Sheridan had been hired a week ahead of Diana, who’d come aboard as Executive Administrative Assistant to the then-head of the Large Projects Department, Miriam Cutler. Ms. Cutler had been the primary reason Sheridan had put aside her reservations about working with engineers and signed on as Administrative Assistant for the Design and Construction Division. Smart, funny, competent, she was that rare combination of professional engineer, good administrator and people person. Like most of the peons below “PE,” Sheridan adored her.
“MC” as she was affectionately called, could really churn out the work. Nothing was more important than getting the job done. As she’d told Sheridan the day she was hired, “We’re busy here. All of us. The learning curve’s very steep. Don’t ever hesitate to ask questions, but I’m afraid I need someone who can hit the ground running.” She imagined Diana had gotten the same speech, only in spades.
For months, Diana would arrive at work to find her desk covered with correspondence, reports, files and written instructions. In the few spare moments Sheridan had, she often took things to help, not her, but the Director. Twice, Diana confided to her, on the brink of tears, that she wasn’t sure she could cut it. Being the new kids on a definitely cold block, they’d gravitated together. At one point, Sheridan had even been naive enough to believe they were friends.
Unfortunately, Miriam Cutler had two major flaws: she was a woman in a profession and a firm dominated by men and she was better than any three of them put together. Firing her outright would have left the company open to a lawsuit and might have made the partners look bad. But Sheridan had been around the block enough (and so had MC) to recognize the pattern: unreasonable work demands and schedules, getting the shit jobs and clients, increasing pressure, personally and professionally. Remarkably, she stood it for almost a year. Then, abruptly, she made the announcement at the weekly partners meeting that she was leaving for another firm.
She’d accepted a vice-presidency with a firm far larger and more prestigious than theirs, taking several clients with her. In less than two years, she’d made partner. Much later, they’d learned that the firm’s partners had approached her.
With King John’s ascension to the throne, Diana’s fortunes had risen too.
It began innocently enough. Weekly lunches away from the office. “To discuss our work.” Lunches that rapidly stretched to two hours. A remodel of the Director’s office and his Assistant’s office. Complete rain outfit and steel-toed construction boots (all custom made because of her small size) so that she could accompany the Director “out in the field.” Conferences, official functions, even “management training” for her. All at the company’s expense. Rumors about the lengthy “closed door” meetings in his office were widespread and colorfully speculative.
Inevitably, their relationship inside and outside the office began to make itself known on the grapevine. King John and Princess Di became Sugar Daddy and the Cupcake. Mostly the office staff wondered among themselves how the Dynamic Duo escaped the watchful eyes of the partners. And Mrs. Curtin.
More and more, Diana found herself cut off from the rest of the women in the office. Take, for instance, girls’ lunches. They excluded her, making plans in whispers and leaving the office solo or in pairs, meeting up at the selected restaurant and then slinking back again separately. The general consensus was that they had to kiss her ass eight hours a day; they weren’t going to do it on their own time. And it was well known that whatever you said to her, you might just as well go into the Director’s office and say to him.
Now, Sheridan and Diana’s paths crossed only when she had work to delegate or in the office break room. Even at that, Sheridan was usually in before she was and they had their breaks and lunches at different times and different locations. Which was why Sheridan was surprised when Diana came through the break room door that morning as
she was making the first pot of coffee.
“Oh, Sher,” she gasped, her eyes wide, “I’m so glad you’re back.”
Translation: I actually had to work while you were out sick.
“It was awful!” she exclaimed. “Just awful.”
Sheridan couldn’t imagine why. Diana had a whole clerical staff to dump work on while she was gone. Unless, of course, there’d been a real emergency with the Prince and she’d screwed up.
“What?” Sheridan asked, suddenly curious to know what minefield she might be walking into.
“Jarvis,” she squeaked excitedly. “Mr. Duncan. He was in a terrible accident.”
Something cold prickled down her spine and Sheridan felt her stomach tighten with a nameless dread.
“Accident?” she repeated timidly.
Diana nodded emphatically. “That first day you called in sick. He was driving to work and lost control of his car and slammed right into a light pole. The fire department had to come and cut him out of his car and the ambulance took him to the hospital. He broke his left hip, both leg bones and his ankle. Got a concussion and some sore ribs. Doctor said he was lucky to be alive.”
Instantly, her words came back to her. “I’d like to lose Duncan.” The tightness in her stomach became a hard knot.
“Is…is he going to be all right?”
“Oh yes, but he’ll be away for at least four to six months. The doctor said he’ll be in a wheelchair and then on crutches and he wants Jarvis…Mr. Duncan…to rest and stay off his leg until it’s completely healed.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, that’s good. I guess it could have been worse. Driving on these icy roads can be treacherous. How did it happen, do you know?”
“John and I went to see him as soon as he was able to have visitors.” There was a slight but unmistakable note of superiority in her tone. “He said he was driving along, when all of a sudden a cat darted into the street, right in front of the car. He slammed on the brakes and swerved to avoid it. Said it was odd because he has anti-lock brakes on his car and they should have kicked in and they just didn’t and he went smack into the light pole on the driver’s side. Probably because of the ice.”