4. Dane
DANE
Through the blur of the dream, I reach for Stephie and bring her mouth to mine in a kiss that’s all demand and no finesse.
She feels so real for a second, whimpering against my chest, and kissing me without reserve.
I’ve been perfectly restrained, but she looks at me like that—sultry and sweet—and I’m beyond.
The room sways when I have my eyes open, but closed, I’m anchored by Stephie. She’s that for me. I’m a hulking grey metal warship, and she’s the small, unassuming part, chained to me. But she keeps me steady.
I’ve held back from admitting how much I want my little assistant for years now, managing by sheer force of will to keep her close to me, but not too close. Even in my fantasies, I don’t confess that I need her.
There’s buzzing in my head. I’m asleep, and this is a very vivid dream.
I’ll enjoy it to the fullest.
Stephie’s mouth gives, soft and warm, though her lips are still cool from the freezing weather.
I nearly lost her. I nearly died myself. I’m certain I’ve been drugged and I’m hallucinating. I have no idea how long I have left.
Kissing her is everything. I hold her to me, and plunder her mouth, taking. This isn’t a gentle kiss, but she feels as starving as I am.
“Princess.” I mutter the sweet word against her lips. She’s my life. “My best girl. Fuck, how I’ve longed for this.”
“I have too,” she whispers, and I groan, because that’s a new development from my usual fantasies, and I love it.
It’s her who brings us back together, her greedy lips on mine.
And she’s exploring me, which is a delicious new part of this illusion.
I imagined me kissing her, me licking between her legs.
I tried to think what her face would look like as I pressed my big cock into her little body.
But in all my fantasies, I didn’t imagine she’d want to touch me.
But in this dream, she does. She creeps her hand over my pectoral muscles, testing their firmness with her fingertips.
She’s not just accepting my kiss, she’s engaged with it, tugging away blankets and sliding her small hand under my suit jacket, questing for more.
As though this is as urgent a need for her as for me.
A nice detail. Good job, brain.
“You’re so beautiful. I need more of you, Stephie.
” My hands are acting on sheer instinct.
I’m dragging the fabric covering her away with all the finesse of a teenage boy.
I’m desperate to touch her skin. After all this time of loving her, wanting her.
And when I finally get past the cotton and wool, the sound that comes from my throat is animalistic.
It’s her hip I get to first, her top having given out, and pulled from her trousers.
And god help me, she’s so soft there. Her skin, of course, but also the way she yields.
Not a bony creature, my Stephie. No, she’s plush.
But still, my hand takes up almost the whole of her waist, from her hipbone over her belly button.
Pregnant. The thought is a possessive flash. A vision of her swollen with the gift I gave her.
Then it’s gone, and I’m back to pure lust, because she’s helping me. Her clever fingers are unbuttoning my shirt, randomly from the middle, trying to get to my chest just as I’m desperate to feel her.
“Stephie,” I say around our kiss, which is lips and teeth and tongue now, a clash of desire and unpractised reality. I haven’t kissed anyone since Stephie and I met, and it feels like it’s the same for her.
This is a dream because I’m her boss, and many years older than her. I might be a mafia boss, but I’m not usually a monster. Or at least, not with Stephie. She makes me want to be better than I am.
Except right now.
The fastenings on her trousers either break or give out, and I shove my hand to her lower abdomen.
“Let me make you come.” I have no brain power available for fancy words.
I don’t dare open my eyes because the room will spin, and this dream will end.
I’m asking, and that’s literally as much as I’m capable of as I push her clothing away.
Her knickers are soft and fine, and I’d love to see what colour they are, and how they look on her body, but right now they’re an inconvenience as I get to what I want. Her.
I cup her pussy possessively, and slick seeps over my fingertips as she arches into my touch, and although I’ve imagined this before, this time is far more vivid.
“You’re wet for me.” It’s a statement and a demand.
She nods, and writhes, and my finger slips between her folds. Into slippery heat and softness that’s beyond anything I’ve felt.
She’s small, and my fingers are big by comparison, and she’s so incredibly tight as I ease along her slit, then into her passage.
I’m so fucking eager. I want to touch her everywhere, all at once, but as her breathing hitches, warm on my lips, I do the thing I’ve wanted more than anything.
I slide up to her clit, and rub over the little button.
“Oh!” Her cry is surprise and pleasure, and my arm locks around her waist, holding her to me as I glide over the place again, and she moans, shuddering.
Every whimper is delicious as I feel my way, rubbing her lightly at first, then harder and faster as she responds beautifully.
It’s all guided by touch rather than sight and is all the better for that.
It doesn’t let me wake from this perfect dream, where I stroke my girl and she’s on the edge of coming just from that. It’s easy between us, as I always knew it would be.
I drive her higher and higher, my cock throbbing more with every twitch she makes.
She chases my fingers if I dare to stop for a second, and moisture runs down my knuckles because she’s absolutely soaked.
She’s dripping, and her reactions make everything better.
I’m so turned on by her in turn. My cock is leaking pre-come, and I can’t help but roll my hips to get some friction on it as it grinds on her thigh.
It’s a type of worship, touching her like this. Listening to every breathy gasp and sigh, shifting my focus accordingly.
I know when she’s close. She begins to shake. Then an instinct has me pinching her clit, and she breaks. She contorts and goes rigid as her orgasm pulses on my fingers. She sobs, and I hold her tighter, keeping her trapped against my body.
“Good girl. That’s it.” I soothe her through it with words and drift my touch to the side, continuing to caress her but not directly so it would be too much. “So pretty and absolutely soaked. And you came beautifully for me, didn’t you?”
I kiss her cheeks softly. No filthy, open-mouthed kisses now. I let her down with infinite care, and it’s minutes before we’re both completely still.
Even as her heart rate slows. Her body is slumped, liquid with satisfaction. And while the feel of her coming was good, the clamour of my own desires is a heavy beat in my head.
I release her reluctantly and bring the hand that stroked her to orgasm up to my mouth, pausing in kissing her to suck the taste of her pussy from my fingers.
The scent of her hits me first. A slight musk.
Then the salt is on my tongue, and the sweetness of her.
I’m ravenous as I lick every drop of stickiness up, wishing the room was warm enough that I could strip her naked, lay her down and have this straight from the source.
But I can’t. I have to take care of her, and that means neither of us dying of frostbite.
Responsible sex only, or at least, non-fatal.
“Oh!” Her exclamation has me aware she’s shocked that I’m feral in my desperation for her.
I open my eyes and find Stephie the only stationary thing in the otherwise blurred and shifting room.
The glowing fire tints her peaches and gold.
Her long lashes cast shadows on her cheeks.
The swoop of her graceful eyebrows. That cute nose, and her pretty eyes.
She’s gorgeous in that understated way that is revealed upon a second glance, and then clutches at your heart on the third, lingering observation.
And she belongs to me now.
My basest parts are in control. I should let her be. Allow her to recover and fall asleep. But my savage needs are overwhelming. I wrap my other arm around her and flip us over, careful to hold her so she doesn’t get hurt by the hard floor.
She gazes up at me, wide eyed, but smiling. I give a thrust of my hips to show her what I need, my intended words coming out as a grunt.
“Say yes, princess. Please. Say yes.” This is a dream.
My own imagination wouldn’t be cruel enough to have her deny me this, surely?
There are no consequences in a dream, but I want the full illusion.
If I’m hallucinating that we’re kissing, then I want the other good stuff too.
Her breathy sighs, her twitches of pleasure.
And I long to hear her say that she wants me.
“Yes. Dane, yes.” She nods eagerly and her fingers curl into me.
And there’s no question. Despite the increasing difficulty seeing straight, I’m taking what’s mine.