and my eyelids fluttered open for a second. No one. This was a dream, nothing more, a sweet, lovely dream. I closed my eyes as his lips feathered softly against mine, a sweet, gentle kiss from a tender, tentative lover, and it felt so real I sighed. Not Thomas. He had never been demanding, but this was unlike his kisses. This was unlike any kiss I had ever felt, and I smiled against his lips.
His tongue was against my closed mouth, tracing the line between my lips, and for a moment tension filled me. I didn’t like that kind of kissing, and neither had Thomas. We had kissed chastely, even when he was moving inside me. Why was this dream changing things?
Don’t fight it, the soft voice whispered against my lips. It’s just a dream.
So it was. I relaxed my tense muscles as he covered my mouth with his, and he coaxed my lips open so easily, so gently; the feel of his tongue in my mouth was different from anything I had ever felt, erotic, arousing, and I let him kiss me, his tongue tasting me, so thoroughly that I forgot to breathe, lost in the strange, seductive sensation that wasn’t real.
He lifted his head and with a note of laughterwhispered, Breathe, Martha. I let out my pent-up breath and wondered if I could I feel him, my phantom lover. I lifted my hands tentatively and felt them caught in his; he brought them to rest on his warm, bare shoulders.
I jerked, startled by the heat of his flesh, and almost opened my eyes again, but I remembered this was a dream. If it were real I would have heard him, known he was here. If I opened my eyes all this would stop, and I didn’t want to let go. Just for once I could do as he said. Stop fighting it.
He was leaning over me, and I felt the silken wash of his long hair. I turned my face into it, and it smelled like the sea, like leather, like sex itself. I racked my brain, trying to remember who smelled like that. Who was I fantasizing about in this erotic dream that had come out of nowhere?
His hands slid down, and I realized I was naked. It didn’t matter—in a fantasy world, I had no scars crisscrossing my body. In a fantasy world, I was perfect, beautiful, irresistible, and when his hands covered my breasts I arched up against him. I could feel my nipples bud and tighten beneath his practiced fingers, and I heard my moan in the stillness. For a moment I froze, afraid it would break the spell, but then his lips closed around my nipple, pulling at it, sucking, and I could feel it down my body and between my legs, and it was suddenly becoming tooreal. Real, as his hand slid over my stomach, between my legs, cupping me, and I jerked, frightened, about to open my eyes and dispel the powerful dream.
His other hand closed over my eyes, a benediction, and his voice was soft in my ear. Just a dream, sweetness. Let go.
Yes, just a dream. Nothing to be frightened of, nothing to be ashamed of. No one could see, no one could hear, no one would know. His tongue touched my other breast, and I felt the soft bite of his teeth as his fingers slid against me, knowing just where to touch, how hard, how soft. Of course he knew. He was me, he was my imagination, he would know what I liked. When he slid his fingers inside me, I bit my lip rather than cry out again and risk waking up. I needed to finish this, needed to desperately, and I arched my hips up against his hand as his fingers moved inside me, the heel of his hand pressed against my clitoris, and his mouth was at my breast, sucking, pulling, pressing, rubbing, pushing, thrusting—
The orgasm took me by surprise, more powerful than anything I had ever felt. I screamed, the sound sharp in the silent room, and fell off the bed onto the hard marble floor. I lay still for a moment, completely awake, wrapped in a welter of sheets and blankets, and I clutched at my clothes. Of course I still wore them. I was alone, as I had always been. As I always would be.
I sat up, pushing the covers away in disgust. I touched myself, finding my
His tongue was against my closed mouth, tracing the line between my lips, and for a moment tension filled me. I didn’t like that kind of kissing, and neither had Thomas. We had kissed chastely, even when he was moving inside me. Why was this dream changing things?
Don’t fight it, the soft voice whispered against my lips. It’s just a dream.
So it was. I relaxed my tense muscles as he covered my mouth with his, and he coaxed my lips open so easily, so gently; the feel of his tongue in my mouth was different from anything I had ever felt, erotic, arousing, and I let him kiss me, his tongue tasting me, so thoroughly that I forgot to breathe, lost in the strange, seductive sensation that wasn’t real.
He lifted his head and with a note of laughterwhispered, Breathe, Martha. I let out my pent-up breath and wondered if I could I feel him, my phantom lover. I lifted my hands tentatively and felt them caught in his; he brought them to rest on his warm, bare shoulders.
I jerked, startled by the heat of his flesh, and almost opened my eyes again, but I remembered this was a dream. If it were real I would have heard him, known he was here. If I opened my eyes all this would stop, and I didn’t want to let go. Just for once I could do as he said. Stop fighting it.
He was leaning over me, and I felt the silken wash of his long hair. I turned my face into it, and it smelled like the sea, like leather, like sex itself. I racked my brain, trying to remember who smelled like that. Who was I fantasizing about in this erotic dream that had come out of nowhere?
His hands slid down, and I realized I was naked. It didn’t matter—in a fantasy world, I had no scars crisscrossing my body. In a fantasy world, I was perfect, beautiful, irresistible, and when his hands covered my breasts I arched up against him. I could feel my nipples bud and tighten beneath his practiced fingers, and I heard my moan in the stillness. For a moment I froze, afraid it would break the spell, but then his lips closed around my nipple, pulling at it, sucking, and I could feel it down my body and between my legs, and it was suddenly becoming tooreal. Real, as his hand slid over my stomach, between my legs, cupping me, and I jerked, frightened, about to open my eyes and dispel the powerful dream.
His other hand closed over my eyes, a benediction, and his voice was soft in my ear. Just a dream, sweetness. Let go.
Yes, just a dream. Nothing to be frightened of, nothing to be ashamed of. No one could see, no one could hear, no one would know. His tongue touched my other breast, and I felt the soft bite of his teeth as his fingers slid against me, knowing just where to touch, how hard, how soft. Of course he knew. He was me, he was my imagination, he would know what I liked. When he slid his fingers inside me, I bit my lip rather than cry out again and risk waking up. I needed to finish this, needed to desperately, and I arched my hips up against his hand as his fingers moved inside me, the heel of his hand pressed against my clitoris, and his mouth was at my breast, sucking, pulling, pressing, rubbing, pushing, thrusting—
The orgasm took me by surprise, more powerful than anything I had ever felt. I screamed, the sound sharp in the silent room, and fell off the bed onto the hard marble floor. I lay still for a moment, completely awake, wrapped in a welter of sheets and blankets, and I clutched at my clothes. Of course I still wore them. I was alone, as I had always been. As I always would be.
I sat up, pushing the covers away in disgust. I touched myself, finding my
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