Once Upon a Dream

by Sierra Simone

  Snow bites her lip and nods, then glances away, like she’s having a hard time not staring at my erection.

  I like that.

  I intentionally stretch again, knowing how it pulls my briefs tight around my cock, as my mind truly begins to clear and I begin to absorb where I’m really at and who I’m with.

  First off, the cabin is spacious and newish, fitted out with the kind of furniture and appliances that scream money. I can’t recognize the shape of the windows, which makes me think I’ve never seen this place before—which makes me think I wandered way fucking farther than I’d originally thought. Christ knows how I’ll find my truck again.

  Second of all, the girls are younger than me. College aged, I’d guess, maybe a tiny bit older. Snow has dark brown skin, dark eyes, eyelashes so long they cast shadows. Long, skinny braids frame her face, and she’s petite and slender. Scarlett is milk-pale, with freckles dashed over her button nose and dark hair bundled up in a careless knot on her head. She’s as curvaceous as Snow is slim, and they’re both in pajamas that do nothing to hide their perfect little bodies.

  Actually…

  I look again at their clasped hands and then up to their flushed faces, a slow worry creeping through me. I know fuck all about women’s fashion, but I do know that women don’t wear these kinds of slinky camisoles and shorts unless they want to be seen in them. And the flush in their faces can’t only be from the fire…

  I swallow, trying to angle my body away as I look for something to cover up with. These girls are clearly together and I don’t want them to think I’m trying to wave my boner at them.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, my voice still harsh with the effects of the storm. “It’s a sleep thing, you know—”

  “Oh, I know all about sleep things,” Scarlett laughs, but Snow elbows her and then cants her head toward me in an obvious can’t you see he’s embarrassed gesture.

  “Your pants are in the washer,” Snow says, by way of apology. “We didn’t entirely feel right undressing you, but all your clothes were either wet or frozen, and we didn’t want you to get hypothermia.”

  “You did the right thing,” I assure her. “I’m grateful.”

  Both of their eyes are on my cock now. God, I like that so fucking much. I like even better that I can see their nipples through their silky pajama tops, all hard like little needy bullets. I wonder how they would feel against my chest, dragging along the tops of my thighs as they suckled at me with warm mouths. Even just the thought of it is enough to make my erection give a slow, obvious pulse, and I’m grateful at least that they can’t see the large wet spot on my briefs from where my tip has leaked precum all over the place.

  Stop it, I tell my dick. Don’t bother the angels.

  I reach down for the blanket, getting ready to wrap myself in it, and Snow blurts out, “Don’t.”

  Scarlett’s head swivels to look at the other girl, and I can tell by Scarlett’s face that this must be extraordinarily out of character for Snow.

  I go still, keeping my eyes on the two young women in front of me. “Pardon?”

  “I mean, you should if you have a person already,” Snow continues on, closing her eyes as she rushes through the rest in a single breath. “You should cover up if you’re dating someone or whatever, and also you should cover up if you want to—but don’t cover up because of us.”

  Clearly through all her reserves of bravery, she takes a breath and opens her eyes again as she finishes. “Don’t cover up because you think we want you to.”

  Scarlett’s smiling the wickedest smile I’ve ever seen on a woman, with her tongue set temptingly against her teeth. “Snow!” she exclaims with delight. “You naughty girl!”

  I straighten back up—without the blanket—and Scarlett and Snow look back to me. For a long moment, no one says anything, and the only sounds are the blizzard screaming outside and the fire crackling around the big logs in the fireplace. I can’t say when the moment finally blooms into heady, erotic promise, but only that it does, as sure as a flower pushing its stubborn way through the snow to get to the sun. We go from looking to wanting, the kind of want that makes you breathe hard and hunger beyond all reason.

  It no longer matters that we’re strangers to each other—them saving my life feels more intimate than anything I’ve shared with anyone in recent memory—and it certainly doesn’t matter that this isn’t exactly a standard configuration where I come from. The only thing that matters is all the inches and inches of warm skin going untouched right now.

  “So if I don’t cover up,” I say, taking a step forward. “What then?”

  “Well,” Scarlett says as she taps one black-painted finger against her lips. “I suppose you could always thank us. Isn’t that right, Snow?”

  Snow’s mouth twitches in a smile. “I think that’s an excellent idea, Scarlett.”

  I take another step forward. “And how do such wonderful angels want to be thanked?”

  “Mmm, well,” Scarlett says, her finger now stroking along the plump bow of her lower lip. “I guess that depends on how adventurous you are.”

  “And you two? How adventurous are you?”

  I don’t miss that Snow squeezes Scarlett’s hand, and I get the sense that they’re silently communicating about something they’ve already talked about, which is something of a relief. I mean, at this point I’d give up my ranch and my truck to crawl into bed with these two, but it’s clear they have something between them, and I don’t want to mess that up. No single night is worth that.

  But if it’s something they’ve already discussed and come to terms with…

  “We’re very, very adventurous,” Scarlett asserts.

  “In that case…” I move forward, and with a couple quick movements and a lot of giggling from the angels, I have them easily tucked into each arm. “Tell me there’s a bed here.”

  “Just down the hall,” Scarlett says. “It’s a very big bed.” And then they both break into giggles again.

  Their merriment is infectious; I can’t remember the last time I’ve heard so much laughter. Sometimes the ranch hands will gather up at dusk for grub and a shared bottle of whiskey, but even then, silence reigns. I suppose it’s my own fault—I’ve been informed by enough women that I’m too gruff and harsh to be an inside pet of any kind. I’m good for a couple hours in the room above the local tavern, but not much else.

  Strange, though, I don’t mind so much being gruff here. These young women aren’t put off by me and my growls in the least. In fact, every time I do something rough or bearlike, I’m merely patted or cooed at, as if they’ve taken for granted that I won’t hurt them and that they’ve already tamed me.

  It’s shockingly gratifying.

  Stunningly pleasant.

  The bedroom looms close, and I feel like some kind of king from legend as I carry the two gorgeous women inside and toss them onto the bed. Their laughter floats up to the ceiling as I find a low light to flick on and then wrap my hands around Snow’s lean thighs and tug her ass to the edge of the bed.

  “What are you doing?” she asks as I curl my fingers around the waistband of her silky bedtime shorts.

  “I want to thank you for saving my life. On my knees. With my mouth. That okay?”

  “Oh,” she says, pupils blowing wide. “Oh yes. Very okay.”

  “Scarlett?”

  Scarlett’s already wriggling out of her shorts and parting her curvy legs. “Whatever you want. I’m guessing you like doing whatever you want.”

  “Yeah,” I grunt, tugging off Snow’s shorts and getting my first glimpse of her sleek, wet pussy. “I do.”

  And then I drop to my knees and kiss my way from Snow’s knee all the way down to her core.

  3

  Scarlett

  Liam goes down on Snow with the same growling intensity that he does everything. Looking for all the world like some kind of half animal intent on claiming his mate, he has his giant hands curled firmly around Snow’s hips, keeping her
still for his liking as he fucks her cunt with his mouth. His broad shoulders brush against her knees as he works; the muscles in his arms and chest tense and flex as he finds all the spots that make shy little Snow issue combinations of swear words even I’ve never heard before.

  But for as sexy as he is and for as much as I want to take notes on what makes her climb the walls, it’s her face I’m riveted by. She’s utterly, indescribably beautiful like this, all abandoned to her pleasure and made selfish and greedy by it. Her lips are parted and her long lashes are fluttering and every single tic and tense of her jaw is more beautiful to me than a sunrise. I have a sudden, nearly spiritual moment of gratitude for Liam and whatever cosmic power brought him to our cabin tonight. That I get to watch Snow like this, that I get to stroke her breasts and croon in her ear as I have an unobstructed view of her unraveling pleasure—it’s a gift beyond imagining. I think I might be able to come just from watching it.

  But then Liam’s hand finds my leg, and if his hands look giant and rough, it’s nothing compared to how they feel. And when those wide, blunt fingertips brush against my needy flesh, I don’t bother to bite back my groan.

  “Fuck, Liam,” I whisper, trying to rock my hips closer to his touch. “Do that again.”

  His eyes—a striking amber with a dark ring around the outside—glare at me from over the rise of Snow’s writhing body, and I realize that for the first time in a very long time, I’m with someone who wants to be in charge more than I do. I relish the idea, the very thought of simply surrendering to this bear of a man and letting him do what he wants with me.

  “Am I being a bad girl?” I purr at him as he narrows his eyes. “Do you like to be the boss?”

  He stands up and wipes at his mouth with his forearm—a move I find unbearably sexy even at the best of times—but now, with Snow practically trying to fuck the air at the absence of his attention and with him so hugely muscled and shaggy and looming over me—well, I’m a goner. He can gobble me up whole and I’d be grateful for it.

  He doesn’t rise to my provoking bait. Instead, he plants his huge hands on either side of my head and leans down, brushing his mouth against mine. I can taste Snow on his lips.

  My toes curl with delight.

  “Tell me if you want to slow down, and I will. Tell me if you want me to stop, and I will.” His voice is deep and grating. “But I dare you to tell me that you want to be in charge right now.”

  He’s right—and stupidly sexy on top of it all—but the fact that he’s right chafes a little. Scarlett Rosenthal is the definition of sexual independence, and while I’ve been in bed with all types, I can’t say that I’ve ever fucked a man so inherently, inexorably…alpha. It’s different. Thrilling and a little scary, like lifting your hands off the handlebars as you zoom down a hill.

  “What makes you think I don’t want to be in charge?” I whisper, deflecting. A quick smile curls at his mouth under his beard. My deflection itself is a victory and he knows it.

  “Because you waited for me to touch you before you started whining,” he murmurs, leaning down to bite at my neck. I arch up into the flare of pleasure-pain, panting. “Because you couldn’t lie still, couldn’t breathe while I took charge of Snow’s pussy, hmm?”

  “Asshole,” I pant. He’s right, and he knows he’s right, and I feel him grin against my neck. “Are you going to finger me now? Pretty please?”

  “Nice try,” he grunts. A flash of heat sizzles at the place where he nips at my breast through my camisole. “It’s not going to be that easy, angel.”

  His mouth hovers right above my navel, and my cami is rucked up enough around my waist that I can feel his breath on my bare skin. I try to push myself closer, because I want his tongue there, I want the rough kiss of his beard, but he straightens up and denies me the pleasure. Instead, his hands scoop under my ass and yank me to the edge of the bed, and then he steps into the triangle made by my legs. He’s so strongly built that even though his hips are narrow, the muscles of his waist spread my thighs farther apart, and the tight muscles of his ass make a delicious resting place for my calves as I wrap my legs around him.

  Still wearing the boxer briefs, he presses the hot length of his erection against my seam, rocking up in a smooth motion that rubs perfectly against my clit.

  “Oh, yes,” I whisper, trying to spur him on with the legs I have wrapped around his waist. “Again, again.”

  “You just don’t learn, do you?” he rumbles, leaning over me again as his hips thrust wickedly against mine. “I think it’s been some time since someone’s taken you like this. Since you’ve been able to lie back and just feel good.”

  Some time…or never. Art school students, whatever gender they identify with, are rarely so…domineering.

  “Maybe you’re right,” I admit, my words breaking on surprised breaths as he continues to dry fuck me. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Make you come good enough that you want me to do it again,” is his succinct reply, and I think he has nothing to worry about there. My orgasm is already threatening to twist me apart, and even if he weren’t able to drive me to climax, it’s still incredibly yummy to be in bed with a man like him, watching him give my little Snowdrop as much pleasure as he has. I would still never want this night to end.

  But he is going to make me come, and fucking hard, too, and not even with his fingers or his mouth. Not even properly with his cock. He’s going to make me come like a teenager in the backseat of a car, frantically rubbing against a rigid length trapped beneath a layer of clothes.

  His hands find my wrists, pinning them on either side of my head, and soon I feel soft lips along my jaw as he thrusts. Snow, with her eyes like onyx in the dark, watches us with addictive intensity.

  I can see her hand buried between her legs and it’s enough to send me over the edge, thinking about her fingers inside her wet, tight hole. With a low keen, I come underneath Liam’s thrusting bulk, my clit throbbing and my womb fluttering fast and hard.

  “Fuck, you’re pretty when you come,” he growls, his form going motionless over mine but still making his cock available for me to ride out the rest of my orgasm against, which I do with a series of violent, shuddering rocks. And when I go still at last, he steps back, peels off his briefs, and drops back to his knees.

  Snow welcomes his face back between her legs with a greediness I never would have imagined from her, and my cunt gives another jolt, letting me know it’s far from finished with the two people in this bed.

  4

  Snow

  Liam stirs a single finger inside of me as he gently works my clit, and I think I might die. Or explode. God only knows how I’ll survive when he fucks me with his cock if this is my reaction to one of his fingers—he is going to fuck me with his cock, right?

  I twine my hands through his hair, smiling at the now-predictable growl it elicits, and then tug up so he looks at me.

  “You can fuck me,” I say softly. “Just so you know.”

  “It’s all fucking, angel,” he says and then wedges another thick finger inside me. “But if you’re asking for my cock, I’ll give it to you. When I’m ready.”

  Scarlett makes a noise next to me and I look over at her as Liam’s tongue starts stroking me again. Her chestnut-brown hair is mussed and tangled in a halo around her head, and even in the dim light, I can see the post-orgasm flush on her cheeks.

  “I want to see him use his cock on you,” she says, with a languorous stretch, and then she’s sitting up so she can better watch him kiss my pussy. “And then I want to use it myself. It’d be such a shame to waste such a big, thick cock, hmm?”

  A grunt from between my legs. Liam likes that.

  “Such a shame,” I breathe. “I need it—”

  The growl Liam gives now is almost frightening, and wherever his body touches mine has gone completely rigid and tense.

  “Ohhh,” Scarlett says, able to see more from her vantage point. “You should see how hard his cock
’s gotten. It’s pulsing in the air now, all on its own. And it’s so dark and swollen—I bet it hurts. I bet it’s near-painful how good each bead of pre-cum feels when it rolls down the underside…”

  Liam growls again, curling his fingers up against some impossibly sensitive part of me, and it feels so good, eyes-rolling-back-into-your-head good, and I can’t take it, can’t take it, and I come with wild, whimpering noises, seizing hard around his fingers and quivering against his tongue. In an instant, he’s on his feet.

  “I need a condom,” he says, and his voice is rough with need. “Tell me you have a condom.”

  For a real moment, I panic. Scarlett and I had been prepared for a trip alone—penises and the things one needs for penises hadn’t really factored into my packing. But then Scarlett climbs off the bed with one of her mischievous laughs and walks over to the end table.

  “This cabin is a bit of a love nest for my parents,” she explains, pulling out what has to be the largest box of condoms I’ve ever seen. “They keep themselves well stocked.”

  If Liam is embarrassed to use condoms belonging to the parents of the woman he’s about to fuck, he doesn’t show it. He takes the box without a word, pulling out a packet and checking something printed there before grunting to himself in satisfaction and tearing it open with his teeth. Scarlett holds out her hands; she takes the box from him as well as the wrapper, and watching her hand curl around the wrapper for the condom Liam is going to use to fuck me is strangely arousing. My pussy, still heavy and sensitive from my climax, feels extra hot and slick now, ready for his cock, ready for more.

  Liam rolls on the condom with powerful, jerky motions, his need clearly displayed not only in his dusky, throbbing organ but also in the etched lines of his rigid abs and straining thighs. He’s nothing like the last—and only—man I’ve had sex with, who’d been a visual artist from Boston and favored a very sweet style of lovemaking.