Dream Lover (22 page)

Knowing she was driving him crazy was driving Alice crazy and soon she was going to have to fuck him.

Glancing up at his face, Alice could see he was completely lost to the world. If she carried on much longer he was going to blow. She couldn’t have that, not yet. Pulling her mouth from around his engorged length with a pop, she hopped off the bed
to quickly discard her underwear. By now, Antony had come back to earth somewhat and was watching her.

“Come here, temptress,” he said, holding his arms out for her, “I’ve got to have you now. I’ve waited so long.”

Something about the statement was a little off to Alice, but her state of arousal was such that all she could think about was his meaty cockhead splitting her labia. She joined him on the bed once more and slung her leg over him, resting her wet folds on his cock. She rocked against him, coating his shaft in her juices. He growled, and she giggled. Their eyes met, and Alice felt a jolt in her chest, and her pulse raced. Looking down at him, she felt…something…more than just lust. It felt akin to love. But it couldn’t be; they’d only just met. How foolish.

Ignoring her silliness, Alice continued to tease Antony’s shaft with her pussy lips until he was grabbing her hips and trying to push her onto his cock. Resisting as long as possible, Alice leaned down for another kiss, inching closer and closer to his parted lips, then suddenly she sat back, impaling herself on his cock. Continuing to push back, she let her tight hole engulf him until he hit her womb. They both gasped and moaned with delight. Alice opened her eyes and looked at Antony again, waiting for his energy to course into her body. It was taking its sweet time. He was looking right back at her, and she felt…like she’d come home. Unbidden, the mysterious face she’d been trying to place all evening popped into her mind. The cogs started to whirr, and suddenly, oddities she’d glossed over all evening made perfect sense. The cologne, the nickname, the familiarity…

“Ethan!” she yelled, about to leap off him like a scalded cat. But he was too fast for her. Gripping her hips, the man she’d been calling Antony held her still with an iron grip. Slowly, he began to change. His hair darkened and lengthened, a dimple appeared in his chin, and his limbs and torso began to alter.

Soon, the man beneath her was no longer Antony. Sure, she could see parts of him, the ones that she realized had reminded her of Ethan in the first place, but she was no longer on a job. She was screwing her best friend. Who happened to be an incubus.

“Wha—?” she gasped, still thrown by the turn of events, questions whizzing through her mind. Before she had a chance to say another word, Ethan had flipped the pair of them over so that his big body was covering her. His cock was still hard inside her, making it difficult for her to think, let alone formulate the numerous questions she wanted to ask.

Ethan pressed a finger against her lips.

“Hush, temptress. Think about it. Cast your mind back through the last few hours, and tell me, really and truly, that you didn’t suspect a thing.”

Alice did as she was bidden, replaying the last few hours in her mind. She recalled how Antony/Ethan had approached her almost as soon as she’d hit the bar, how he’d known not to grope her in the taxi, how he’d dressed…ooh, it didn’t bear thinking about. She’d spent the evening being seduced by her best friend.

Then it hit her. She’d actually spent the perfect evening being seduced by the man she loved. She saw it now. The dissatisfaction with her lot, the emptiness. She hadn’t realized it, but she’d loved Ethan for as long as she could remember. Knowing the truth was a weight off her mind.

She relaxed beneath him, and he slowly, gently, began making love to her. But she wasn’t quite ready to let it go.

“How? Why?”

“Alice, can’t it wait? I love you. Always have.”

“Yes, but…”

“Fine. I can’t believe you’re making me explain this to you while I’m making love to you for the first time. I had to. I was
miserable, and I knew you were too. Seeing you every day, being so close to you but not being with you was driving me insane. Watching couples in the street together, so happy and in love: I couldn’t face eternity without experiencing that. And I’ve known for a very long time that I’d never get it with anyone else but you.”

“But what about the bosses? Can’t we get into trouble?”

“Have we been struck down? Has anything bad happened? No. I reckon it was just a trick all along to stop succubi and incubi getting it on and neglecting their day jobs. A lack of life force passing through Hell would be a catastrophe.”

“But—?”

“Babe. Hush. Does this feel wrong to you?”

Ethan leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. His tongue parted her lips and entered her mouth as he began to thrust in and out of her pussy once more. She could feel a glow start to spread throughout her body. But this time, she knew it wasn’t life force, or even Ethan transferring his incubi energy to her, which was clearly how he’d fooled her earlier.

It was love. Satisfaction. Happiness.

Sighing against Ethan’s mouth, she truly let herself go. She cast off the restraints of her conscience and gave herself fully to him: her soul mate.

More warm fuzzy feelings began to thread their way through her body, but this time, she knew what was happening. She matched Ethan’s movements thrust for thrust, their hips bumping and bouncing, and then suddenly, Alice froze. Her body arched in sweet agony, and her core began to twitch, grabbing the stiff rod inside her and squeezing.

Ethan’s beautiful blue eyes went wide, and he stopped moving inside her. She felt the beginnings of his orgasm, his cock throbbing uncontrollably in her pussy. Their eyes met once more and
they watched each other as they came, trapped like animals in headlights and equally shocked.

Seconds later, their climaxes abating, Ethan flopped down beside Alice on the bed. Without even thinking about it, she snuggled into the crook of his arm and laid her head on his chest, one arm flung across his torso. His arm instantly came up and he started stroking her hair, like they’d been doing it forever. Tilting her head to look at his face, she opened her mouth to speak.

“I love you too,” he replied, even though she hadn’t spoken.

And that was enough. He’d been right. He knew her better than he knew himself, and she felt the same. He was the “thing” that had been missing from her life, the missing part of the puzzle. Now she knew what it was to feel complete.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I
t had always fascinated her: the six-foot-high rusted iron gates covered in ivy, the curving driveway overgrown with weeds and the distant shape of the ruined Victorian house. Rose traced the faded outline of the letters on the tarnished brass plate. Folly House lived up to its name. Built by an industrial millionaire to impress his neighbors in the previous century, the house was half medieval castle, and half gingerbread house.

She walked past it everyday on her way to college, always hoping the gates would open and that she could wander up the driveway and really see what she had only glimpsed from afar. And on this warm summer night she needed to escape, her heart broken into a thousand pieces, her calm façade shattered by one faithless, lying man. No. “Man” was too good a word for him. He was still a child, endlessly wanting new toys and discarding those he no longer found entertaining.

Rose leaned her forehead against the coldness of the brass plaque, and closed her eyes. A soft breeze ruffled her long hair,
and the chains on the gate rattled and whined in a gloomy chorus of sympathy. A deep groaning sound made her look up to see the gates swinging wide. She peered back at the deserted street, but there was no sign of anyone. No one would miss her at her apartment, or even care what time she returned.

With one last guilty look behind her, Rose walked through the gates, her sandals crunching in the thick gravel. She shivered as the shadows of the huge trees that guarded each side of the driveway locked arms overhead to block out what little sunlight remained. She kept moving, her breathing loud in the sudden stillness, the sound of her feet the only reminder that she wasn’t moving through a dream. But it was just like her dream, the same surge of anticipation, and the sense that when she reached the house, something important would be waiting for her, something that would complete her. Rose grimaced at her own foolishness. Nothing would “complete” her. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. At least she knew that.

She emerged from the green gloom and found herself at the front of the house. She looked up at the fantastic twisting towers, crenellated walls and huge, arched, oak door. Most of the roof was gone and evidence of the fire that had ravaged through the house remained in the twisted skeleton of exposed beams, flapping wallpaper and broken, blackened glass.

Her gaze was drawn back to the tower, which was covered in thick ivy. It had no obvious door and only one window at the very top. Images of Rapunzel letting down her hair made Rose smile as she walked forward to examine the structure more closely. It seemed to have avoided the worst of the fire damage and remained sturdy and somehow closed off as if was slumbering in the twilight. She put her hand on the cool stone and shivered as it seemed to vibrate and stir beneath her touch.

Tendrils of ivy rustled and seethed like rippling water and
rearranged themselves, curling around Rose’s hand and tickling her palm.

“
Rose
.”

She blinked hard, her mouth suddenly dry. Where had the voice come from? It sounded just like the one in her dream, a lover’s voice—a voice that demanded something from her that she was more than willing to offer.

“Where are you?” Perhaps this wasn’t real after all.

She focused her gaze on the rippling strands. It was like trying to see a reflection in a raging sea. “I can’t see anything.”

She heard soft, compelling laughter, and then the ivy tightened around her wrist and pulled her deeper until the whole of her body was surrounded by the rustling, stroking strands. She didn’t have time to wonder if she should be fighting; she just knew she was safe with the voice in her head.

“
Open your eyes
.”

She opened them and found she was face-to-face with a stone carving of the most beautiful man she had ever seen. His cheekbones were high, his lips full and his eyes so compelling that she couldn’t look away. It was the face from her dreams, the owner of that seductive caressing voice that made her wake up climaxing and alone.

“
I’ve been calling you
.”

“In my dreams?” Rose whispered.

“Yes.”
The ivy stirred again, a single tendril sliding over her cheek. “
Why are you crying? Are you afraid of me?”

“I’m not afraid.”

“
That is good
.”

“What do you want from me?”

Laughter warmed the voice in her head and she shivered.

“
A kiss
?”

“You won’t turn me to stone, will you?”

“
I will not
.”

Rose leaned in, closed her eyes and pressed her lips to the cold, sculptured mouth. Her nose hit the wall and she jerked backward, rubbing the bump on her forehead. “Ouch! Where did he go?”

The face had disappeared; only the flat wall remained. Rose pushed her way back out of the suddenly lifeless ivy and stared up at the tower. She felt like a punctured balloon, as all her anticipation drained away. Had she imagined the face? As a kid she’d always been in trouble for making stuff up, and it seemed nothing had changed.

“You’re an idiot, Rose,” She chided herself out loud. “Now just grow up, turn around, and go home.”

She took three reluctant steps away from the tower. And then, drawn by some strange compulsion, she turned back to look at it. A light now burned in the small window at the top, and a door had appeared in the side framed by the ivy. It was open and she could see a set of stone steps spiraling upward.

“
Rose…
” She went still as the beguiling voice echoed through her mind. “
Come to me.
”

Common sense told her she should get back to the apartment and move her things before her ex arrived with his new woman. That’s what the shithead had ordered her to do in his latest text. But why should she be the one scurrying around like she’d done something shameful? He was the two-timing jackass, not her. He could wait.

Rose hitched up her backpack, went through the door and started up the stairs. There seemed to be hundreds of shallow stone steps, and by the time she got to the top, she was breathing hard. She took a moment to collect herself before raising her hand to the door. Before she even touched the surface, it opened,
and she was greeted to the sight of a naked man tattooed with ivy leaves stretched out on a four-poster bed.

He smiled and held out his hand to her. “Rose, I’m so glad you have come. I have waited for you for years.”

His accent had a lilt to it that reminded her of Ireland. Rose stayed where she was and surreptitiously pinched her skin. Surely this was a dream? She wasn’t the sort of woman who walked into a room to find a beautiful, naked man looking pleased to see her.

“Do I know you?”

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. She tried to keep her gaze on his calm, leaf-green eyes and soft lips but couldn’t help peeking lower to his muscled chest, flat stomach and…her hand went to her mouth. It seemed he was very pleased to see her indeed.

He smiled. “You just kissed me, so I hope so.”

She stared intently at his features, tried to reconcile them with her image of the stone face and realized they were eerily similar. “Actually, I face-planted the wall.”