Chapter 8
ELGIN
There’s a meme that pops up on my feed every two months or so about how having sex in your dream is Satan or whatever, and the response is that he should come back because he knows what I like.
It always makes me think about the times I’ve dreamed about sex so vividly that I can feel it while I wake up.
Admittedly, that feeling happened a lot more as a teenager. It’s not often that I feel a dream so intensely that it lingers or follows me as I wake up. This morning is the exception. Hot pleasure burns through my veins, welcoming me into the waking world.
I groan, my hips rocking desperately. When my eyes fly open with a gasp, my surroundings feel muddled. I can’t concentrate past the lingering dream. My hips buck backwards… right into an unmistakable hard-on. The blunt head hits squarely between my asscheeks.
My cheeks heat. Fuck. As mortified as I am, my hips jerk again. My cock searches for friction. Attention. The hand on me is gripping my hip, not touching my cock.
A ridiculous whine leaves my mouth as I jerk my ass backward into Ara’s dick. That’s who’s in bed with me, after all. It can’t be anyone else. No one turns me on like this man.
Finally, his hand comes around and grips my cock. My whine turns into a whimper. Not enough. Not enough! I need more.
Thankfully, Ara always seems to know what I need. The blankets get thrown aside. I’m rolled onto my back, and my pants come off completely. Ara’s mouth closes around my throbbing cock. My groan turns deep and guttural, and I sigh in relief.
The relief only lasts three or four seconds, though. Then he’s sucking me so fiercely that I can feel it along my spine. Not only that, his fingers plunge into my ass. I gasp, my spasming. Burning. My hips buck wildly, slamming into Ara’s throat and back down on his fingers.
I don’t know whether I’m overwhelmed or maybe not fully lucid yet, but the onslaught of forceful pleasure lodges my orgasm in my core, where it struggles to get free. Like a clogged pipe, my orgasm struggles as intensity slams against it, building more and more pleasure.
Tears gather at the corners of my eyes. I can feel one slip free. Holy fuck. I’m going to burst apart. I can feel it. My entire body is going to shatter.
For a hot minute, I feel like I’m hovering over my body, and time slows down.
I’m gripping Ara’s head to my cock with all my strength.
My hips are on pistons as I shove into his mouth and down on his fingers, the two warring sensations battling for dominance of pleasure.
My back is arched, my neck stretched, teeth clenched, tears running into my hair as I struggle to take a breath.
My muscles are all tense, making every part of me look toned and sculpted.
There’s definition where I wouldn’t expect it to be.
While I know this is a trick of my mind on some level, I can see Ara pull his fingers from me.
I hear my begging for him to put them back. I see when he does, adding another.
That’s the tipping point. I slam back into my body, dislodging my orgasm. My hips go absolutely wild—as if they’d been calm before—but the rest of me stiffens and stills. My eyes roll as pleasure sears through my body, running into my core, clutching my balls in a fist, and spewing out my dick.
I’ve never experienced something that overtook my entire body like this. I feel like nothing more than a skin suit. Boneless. All my muscles have deflated. I lie gasping and unseeing. My pulse is loud in my ears, a combination of thumpthumpthump and whoooooosh.
Ara’s low chuckle breaks through, and I shiver. It reaches my damn toes. His face appears over me, and I flush. How the hell does this man undo me like that? What the fuck?
“Feeling good?” he asks.
I grumble something unintelligible.
His deep chuckle strokes my dick again, and I jerk as if it were a real touch on my sensitive dick. Seriously, what is wrong with me?
“Rest, Ellie. I’ll get the shower running.”
It’s a good thing he doesn’t plan to make me get up right now. There’s no way in hell I’d be able to get up. Not on my own two feet anyway. Not a damn chance.
There’s a good chance I turn to sludge while Ara is out of the room. I don’t move. I think I barely breathe. My eyes are open, but I see nothing.
I’m not sure how much time has passed as I lie sprawled out on the bed; legs wide, soft dick lying across my thigh, shirt hiked up to my chest, and pants hanging off the side of the bed. Many minutes. If someone walked into the room, they’d know exactly what happened. My world was shook.
Ara’s amusement reaches me before his shadow falls over my supine body. I squint up at him. He’s looking mighty smug. If I had the strength, I’d tell him off. Words die on my tongue when I realize he’s dripping wet with a towel wrapped around his hips.
My betraying body heats up again. I feel the flush on my cheeks as I close my eyes again.
“Up, hockey player. Shower is running,” he says in that damn voice that strokes everything inside me. My damn dick twitches.
Fucking body. Lame.
Ara pulls me up like I’m a damn doll, and I’m on my feet. The shirt falls back into place until he hauls it over my head. I glare at him, though I might as well be glaring at a wall. It goes unnoticed. He’s entirely unaffected.
He walks me into the bathroom. It’s filled with steam and smells like… something spicy, warm, and cleansing. All rolled into one. I feel relaxed as soon as I take a deep breath.
“In you go, Ellie.” Ara ushers me into the shower.
If I were brave, I’d ask him to join me. As it is, my bravery goes only far enough to watch him leave. Towel around his hips, ass outlined beautifully under it. Broad shoulders. Toned back. Water droplets catch the light as he walks out of the bathroom, leaving me alone.
I turn my back to the door and close my eyes. The hot water feels good falling over me, washing away the sweat and Ara’s spit from my dick. I shift and feel a reminder of his fingers in my ass. I’m not sure if it’s the twinge or how I feel a little… slick there.
Washing inside feels awkward as hell, but at least he has a removable showerhead. Making sure there’s no chance that he’s going to catch me doing this, I pull the showerhead down and lift my leg, awkwardly spraying my hole. I grimace as I spread my cheeks with my other hand.
Yep. Awkward. Even alone in the bathroom, my cheeks burn. God, please don’t let him walk back in and see me like this! I will die. Plain and simple. Dead. Right here in the shower.
I’m left alone right up until I turn the water off. I step out of the shower as Ara walks back into the room with a pile of clothes for me and already dressed like the mob boss he resembles. Unreal. I’m totally in a movie.
I expect him to leave me alone once he sets the clothes on the counter. He usually leaves me alone while I dress. This morning, he leans against the counter, crosses his arms over his broad chest, and watches me dry off.
A minute passes in which I’m becoming incredibly self-conscious of him watching me. “What?” I ask.
“Are you familiar with somnophilia?”
My hands pause as I stare at him. “Uh… I don’t think so.”
“Sleep play. It means that one person touches another sexually while that person is asleep.”
“Oh,” I say and think about my dream. The demon touches me when I sleep. The thought nearly makes me smirk. “Okay?”
“How do you feel about it?” Ara asks.
“Oh,” I repeat, sounding stupid. “Uh… like… touch how?” I’m so damn eloquent.
“That’s up for discussion. Whatever you’re comfortable with. I would never cross a hard line.”
“Interesting that you went from generalized terms to talking about me,” I comment and turn around to rest my foot on the bench and dry my leg.
I honestly shouldn’t be surprised to feel Ara move behind me. My naked ass is now pressed to his pelvis. I feel his cock. I close my eyes, trying to get myself under control. I am not sex obsessed. This is ridiculous.
Ara’s hands rest on my hips and then circle around my torso. He pulls me up so I’m standing upright, pressed against him. His hands move over my naked torso and stop with one hand messing with a nipple and the other wrapped around my cock.
“You were clearly having a good dream this morning,” he murmurs, voice low, lips at the shell of my ear. I shudder. “I’d have liked to wake you up with my mouth on your dick. How do you feel about that?”
I gasp as if I can feel it there now. “Okay,” I stammer.
“Does that mean I have permission to suck your cock while you’re asleep?”
I nod.
“Can I finger your tight hole? Can I touch you?”
I swallow, nodding. Fuck, I can imagine waking up like that.
“I want you to tell me yes or no verbally, Ellie. I need to hear your words.”
“Yes,” I murmur. “Yes, you can do that.”
“Is there something you don’t want me to do to you while you sleep?”
He can’t actually expect me to have a conversation while he’s touching me, can he?
“Seems you’re a little distracted,” he muses, and I nearly fall on my face when he takes a step away, releasing me entirely so he’s not touching me at all.
“Ass,” I mutter and return to drying off. It’s not just my face flushed, but my entire body. And my damn dick is excited again.
He chuckles. I drop the towel onto the bench and turn so I can pass him. He stops me with his hand on my chin, forcing me to look at him. The air in my lungs comes whooshing out of me.
“I won’t do anything to you in your sleep that we haven’t done while you’re awake,” he says. “For example, I won’t have your pretty hole around my dick until I take it while you’re wide awake. Understand?”
I can’t inhale. My lungs have forgotten how to work. I stare at him, dick aching again.
“Answer me, Ellie,” he says. “Is that okay? There is no right or wrong answer. I want to know what you’re comfortable with. If you’re not comfortable with me touching you in your sleep, that’s okay. It’s not for everyone.”
“I—yes. You can touch me while I sleep.” Great. Now my cheeks burn like they’re on fire.
“Mm,” he answers. Ara doesn’t release my chin, forcing my eyes to remain locked with his. His other hand rests across my chest. He grips my right pectoral, squeezing it slightly. My eyes narrow. His hand moves down my torso, and I swallow.
I’m practically vibrating with anticipation when his hand wraps around my cock.
“So needy,” he murmurs. “Last orgasm didn’t hold you over long, did it?”
I close my eyes, already losing myself in the way he’s stroking me. Rubbing my head. Squeezing my base.
“Need another orgasm, Ellie?” he murmurs. His breath brushes my lips, and they part on their own.
“Yes, please,” I whisper.
“So polite,” he says. He takes my bottom lip between his teeth. “Can’t deny a request like that when your manners are impeccable.”
That’s where my second orgasm of the day happens.