Dream Bound (35 page)

Cam grabbed a washcloth off the rack beside the shower, stepped beneath the spray, and tried to empty his mind of everything but the welcome heat of the water, the way tension slowly eased out of tired muscles. A more welcome thought intruded, that he’d finally experienced what the other members of the dream team had known all along—sending sexual fantasies to Nyrians had one hell of a payback.

After two nights of fantasizing about his art and the pending rescue of the aliens, he’d finally gotten on track during last night’s shift.

Had he ever. The thought had barely registered when a coil of arousal shocked him into immediate awareness. His balls drew close to his body; his cock throbbed with new blood.

“Down, boy.” Chuckling, he smoothed his hand over his taut shaft, paused a moment to slip his foreskin over the broad head and back again. A shiver raced along his spine. A shiver of pure carnal pleasure. He turned his dick loose and brushed his wet hair out of his eyes. Even without stroking himself, his arousal seemed to be growing, just from remembering last night’s shift in the dream shack.

And to think he was getting paid for this! Being a member of Mac Dugan’s dream team definitely had good bennies. Using his imagination to broadcast sexual fantasies to aliens who gained power from his wild thoughts might sound totally impossible, but when those fantasies were combined with Mac’s powerful satellite array to boost their energy, the results were beyond amazing.

He thought of the two women who’d come to him during his shift, the last of the Nyrians to make the journey to Earth for the combination of sexual power and visual images necessary to create their own corporeal bodies.

He’d certainly liked the bodies his two visitors had chosen, and he’d definitely loved what they did with them. Once the Nyrians had a solid form, they seemed to delight in the sensual pleasures their new human bodies allowed.

Granted, everything had happened in his head-sort of—but it had felt like so much more.

Sort of like the painting. He wondered if Mac was awake, if maybe he ought to show it to him. Shit. He let out a huge breath. He could be wrong, but he was positive the damned thing was ...

Oh. Fuck.
The soft brush of something warm along his inner thigh jerked Cam out of his convoluted thoughts.

Out of his thoughts and right back here, to what could only be a dream. “Mir? Niah? What are you doing here?” He blinked furiously, clearing the water out of his eyes. Both women, his Nyrians from the night before, here? In his shower? He was awake, damn it. He wasn’t fantasizing.

“Hello, Cam.” Mir gazed up at him, all bright smile and gorgeous, naked body. She and Niah knelt at his feet, almost mirror images of one another except for coloring. Where Mir was all sultry and dark with long black hair, dark coffee eyes, and skin the color of polished oak, Niah was her opposite. Platinum hair, eyes of molten silver, and skin so fair and fine as to make her look like a carefully constructed porcelain doll.

Yet her lips were red—deep red, slightly parted, and at this moment approaching ... no. Oh, crap. They were sliding deliciously over the head of his wide-awake,
please-play-with-me
dick.

Groaning, he braced his hands against the slick walls of the shower and prayed his knees wouldn’t buckle. There was no thought of stopping her—last night he’d quickly learned that Mir and Niah did exactly as they pleased.

Mir stood and slipped around behind him, tugged the wet washcloth from his nerveless fingers, and slowly swept it across his shoulders. She stroked his back, his buttocks, the backs of his thighs, while Niah slowly took him deeper and then deeper still, sucking his full length into her mouth, down her throat.

Oh. Fuck. He tightened everything—his buttocks, his thighs, the muscles across his stomach. Tightened and prayed for control, but he could feel it slipping, even as Mir dropped the washcloth and pressed against his back.

She was tall enough that her breasts hit just below his shoulder blades. Her nipples were beaded up so tight he felt them, twin little bullet points of sensation. Then she was sliding, sliding down, slowly dragging her breasts down his back, running her fingers over his flanks, dropping to her knees behind him.

This was so much more intense than last night when he’d slipped between fantasy and reality, and he’d wondered then if he’d survive their curious explorations. Now, Niah knelt in front, sucking his cock, and Mir had gone to her knees behind him, pushing his legs apart, licking the sensitive curve of his butt and then wrapping long fingers around his sac.

He might have whimpered. Knew he was cursing steadily, though if he’d been asked exactly what words he used, Cam doubted he could have given an intelligent answer. Mir forced his legs farther apart, somehow twisted around so that she had her mouth on his balls and her tongue doing something that had to be illegal in most states.

Probably on the planet.

Did it matter? Hell no. Hell. No. No ... shit.

He tried to stop it. Honestly, he’d never fought so hard for control in his life, but there was no way. Not any way at all to stop what these two women had set into motion.

Lips and tongues everywhere; fingers on his balls; a hot, tight mouth and throat taking complete control of his dick. A finger teasing his ass, pressing, entering, sliding deep, pressing ...

He cried out. Cursed. Shouted.

Climaxed.

Cam struggled to stay upright but gravity won and he slowly gave in. His knees buckled and his hands slipped along the wet tiles until he was half sitting, half lying on the floor of the shower with the water beating him in the face, with both Mir and Niah giggling with utter delight.

He opened his eyes and stared at both women. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going back to finish your shift.”

“Nattoch wanted us to gather more energy.” Niah licked her lips. “You weren’t fantasizing enough to provide energy. We decided to help you along.”

“You were sad,” Mir said. She stood and offered him a hand. He wrapped his fingers around hers and she tugged him to his feet. “Your sadness distresses us. Come. Let’s dry off and do it again. This time with laughter.”

Cam thought of the painting in the other room. Thought of what it might be, what it meant. Then he looked at the women—two absolutely beautiful, wet, naked women—waiting impatiently for him to make up his mind.

He shut off the water, grabbed a towel off the rack, and ran it over Mir first, and then Niah. They preened like glossy, well-loved cats.

Cam dried himself. His legs had stopped trembling. His erection hadn’t subsided a bit, and it was still awfully early in the morning. The painting could wait. He’d talk to Mac later. Tossing the wet towel over the shower door, he followed the women into the bedroom.

He glanced out the window as first Mir and then Niah crawled into the middle of his big bed. The sun was barely up. Mac was probably still asleep. Cam turned his attention to the bed.

To the women on his bed.

It was still made up from yesterday. He’d never gone to sleep at all last night. Not that he intended to sleep now.

At least, not for a while. Mir held out her hand. He took it, let her tug him close, and for some reason thought of the painting in the other room.

The dark, angry landscape with its familiar pattern of canals and lines, only they weren’t canals at all, but highways. Cities and forests in the midst of terrible upheaval. A living planet under attack. He felt a terrible pain in his chest and thought of waking Mac, of telling him what he’d seen.

Then he caught the scent of vanilla and honey, and the painting slipped from his mind. Gently, he pressed Mir back against the pillows and parted her thighs with both hands. A quick smile for Niah. “You next,” he said. Then he winked as Niah settled beside them to watch.

He knelt between Mir’s legs with his palms beneath her firm, round buttocks, lifted her for his pleasure, and discovered that yes, she did taste exactly like vanilla and honey.

Morgan Black lay beside Rodie Bishop and watched the first rays of the morning sun cut across the tumbled blankets. Their Nyrian lover Bolt had returned to the ship at some point during the night, though Morgan had slept through his departure.

Still so hard to believe, that in just a few days he had not only interacted with aliens, he’d had some pretty mind-blowing sex with them. His thoughts drifted to the five Nyrian women he’d called with his fantasies—women who now had the human forms they’d need when the DEO-Map team put their rescue into action.

Five Nyrian women, one Nyrian man.And then there was Rodie.

She’d caught him by surprise, and yet it was as if she’d always been there, always a part of his life. The feelings he had for her, the woman herself ... Hell, it still felt like a dream.

He’d never had a steady relationship with a woman before, and nothing all that serious with men. How could so much have changed? Now he had Rodie, he had Bolt and the other Nyrians, creatures he’d known for such a short time, and yet ...

They mattered. Mattered to him in a way that was almost impossible to describe. As if the forms they’d taken from his mind had left an indelible imprint on his soul.

Essentially, they had become family. His family. And not just the Nyrians—no, the entire dream team was closer than those few he could claim by blood. They were the ones who mattered. Finn and Cam were the brothers he’d never had. Kiera and Liz were like little sisters. And Mac? How did he describe his feelings for Mac Dugan? Not just a friend, not even a brother. More a mentor, a trusted male, someone Morgan actually admired.

There were very few men he’d ever admired in his life.

And oddly enough, Finn O’Toole was one of them, which was almost laughable when he thought of his first impression. He’d pegged him as a jokester without a serious thought in his head, a guy who was more concerned with bagging another woman, adding another notch to his proverbial bedpost.

It appeared he’d been wrong about Finn O’Toole. At least he hoped so, since he’d be trusting him with his life. Today, he and Finn would learn how to dematerialize, or disincorporate, as the Nyrians called it. Essentially, he’d be reducing himself to the molecular level and hitchhiking within the energy mass of an alien creature in order to travel from Earth to the Gar ship that was currently in orbit behind the moon.

Yeah. Sure ... and it was a good thing he didn’t have a clue how this was going to happen or he’d probably be scared to death, but somehow, doing something that was so far beyond belief didn’t seem to actually register.

Rodie let out a soft snore and snuggled against his side. He tightened his arm around her shoulders. She was just as far beyond belief as dematerializing. Rodie Bishop was someone else he’d underestimated.

He’d thought she was interesting and kind of cute.

He had no idea she’d totally rock his world.

Of course, when he’d signed on to this project, he really had no idea what he was getting into. Definitely a good thing being so ignorant or he’d never have agreed.

And then, just think what he’d be missing.

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Copyright © 2012 by Kate Douglas

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ISBN: 978-0-7582-7897-5