Chapter 11
Alice
My feet sought purchase against the silk sheets as I bit my finger to stifle the moan trickling up my throat. My other hand was buried in dark, silky hair. The kind of soft, luxurious hair that no six-foot-five with rippling abs and an arrogant attitude had any business having.
But then, I thought, as my breath hitched when his tongue laved that tiny bundle of nerves, he had every right to be arrogant. With a smirk of his full lips and a stroke of a long finger, he could have me on my back begging for his big cock.
Or on all fours.
Or across our heavy, wooden dining room table.
Aside from our bed, it was probably my favorite place for him to feast on me. Literally. Staring up at our grandiose Flemish chandelier as it winked down at me in approval while my King ravished me, never failed to make me come.
His men often had to leave the room once my King lifted me off my chair and placed me astride him.
Our kind were used to exhibitionist sex, but my mate refused to share my orgasm under someone else's lascivious watch.
The last man who had accidentally strolled into the room just as my legs locked around his head in ecstasy had his organs almost ripped from his bowels. He had survived. Just.
I was equally possessive of my love, snarling at any woman or man who dared to glance at him with a lustful glint in their eye.
I understood. My King was handsome, glorious, and powerful. We were dealing with a completely separate caliber of man here, so to compare him to any other creature was unfair. It was part and parcel of being with such a fine specimen.
But I didn't care. He was mine.
My thighs were suddenly gripped by strong hands and shoved wider apart. My back arched, and I cried out as my pussy was lifted so his mouth and tongue could lick and suck at the dripping hole with ease.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I chanted as his tongue traveled farther down to circle my ass. His hot mouth sucked, and the tip of his tongue dipped inside my rosebud, teasing the entrance for tortured moments before he moved again to cover my gushing pussy with his mouth.
I had no inhibitions. He had shed them all with his constant and ferocious lovemaking. Every part of me belonged to him.
My fingers speared into our satin sheets as I offered my body entirely to him.
"Come for me, my love."
His growl of demand shot through me, triggering that spot deep inside that willingly complied with his every sexual command. My nerves reached that sweet pinnacle, and I eagerly dove over the edge, freefalling into an earthshattering explosion of prolonged euphoria.
My juices shot into his greedy mouth before I felt that sweet pain/pleasure pricking my inner thigh, close to my dripping pussy.
I screamed again as the high continued to speed through my veins, warming each corner with its delicious lick of ecstasy before spreading back down to my core just in time for him to plug my newest release with his hungry mouth.
It was the kind of orgasm that had me seeing stars and blacking out before coming around to his soft tongue as he soothed my wound.
I was safe in the knowledge that while I was unconscious, he was busy raining gentle kisses on my blissed-out face and down my sweat-coated neck.
His hands would caress my stomach before they stroked my heavy breasts, thumbing at my hardened nipples.
Even now, as my body was pulling out of its post-orgasmic haze, I could feel his lips planting themselves in soft pecks over my forehead.
My brow pulled down as his scent hit my nose. Instead of the warm, spicy embrace that welcomed me like a glutton at a feast, the aroma was sickly sweet.
Cheap.
Even his roaming hands felt smaller. Softer. Yet not as tender in their care.
Something was wrong.
Panic started to rise as I fought to open my eyes.
"Alice!"
"Alice! Honey. Alice."
I jerked awake with a sharp gasp, my eyes flying open in shock. I struggled to focus on the form looming over me. Instead of the black hair and blue eyes I expected, blond and brown greeted my vision.
No. This was wrong.
"Alice, honey. Are you with me?" David's concerned timbre finally registered, and my mind quickly cleared as if dunked in ice.
David. My husband.
Yes. This was right.
This was real. I was safe.
So why did my chest feel like it could cave in? The warmth and joy that I was sure I'd been experiencing had abruptly vanished. Pulled away under my feet until I was left disoriented and…disappointed.
Guilt assuaged me at the look of worry on David's face. "I'm sorry," I croaked out. I sat up and reached for the glass of water I kept by our bed. With a shaky hand, I parched the hoarseness in my throat.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
I sputtered on my water, my teeth clashing against the glass. David immediately plucked it out of my hand before rubbing my back as I fought to bring my coughing under control.
The loud, feminine cry of pleasure still vibrated through my head.
A feminine cry that sounded suspiciously like my voice.
Remnants of my lust-induced dream came flooding back like a kaleidoscope of rotating snapshots—the next more explicit than the one before.
Despite how graphic the imagery was and how visceral the sensation of each touch and smell had been, only one thing still eluded me—one image.
"You okay?" David asked, his brow knitted together as he watched me cautiously.
"Sorry. It went down the wrong way." I rubbed his bare thigh under our sheet. "Did I wake you? Was I thrashing around again?"
He pulled me closer and placed a soft kiss against my head.
I closed my eyes tightly, wishing I could feel comforted by his touch.
It never used to be this hard. The effort it took to relax around him no longer felt like a well-oiled flow.
Even now, I had to force my arms to unclench in his embrace.
I blamed the dreams.
They were throwing me for a loop. I was only feeling out of sorts right now because I had another sex dream about a man who wasn't David—compounded by being woken up by my husband while I was still coming down from the throes of my erotic illusion. With another man.
"You were doing more than that." David's voice was low and smooth, yet the shiver it produced felt like a protective warning. I recognized that tone. Unease churned low in my belly.
"Oh?"
"Hmm." His hand slid over my tight stomach, stroking my hip bone. "You were grinding against me and moaning. Good dream, was it?" His breath slid over my skin as his lips stroked down my neck.
I froze. What was wrong with me? David and I had an active sex life, but lately, we hadn't engaged in much intimacy. The stress of taking on the Empire Gates project early, the lack of sleep, and increased vivid dreams made it hard to get in the mood.
A morphed image of a dark-haired, blue-eyed billionaire and a faceless blue-eyed lover pushed its way through, demanding recognition. I forced it aside, tightly screwing my eyes shut as my husband—the man I should be excited for, continued to trail kisses across my collarbone.
His hand slid down my belly, delving into my damp heat. Blunt fingers circled my clit, and I immediately recoiled, my legs snapping shut.
David pulled his hand away; his brown eyes clouded in surprise. I'd never given him that reaction before. "What's the matter? Did I hurt you?"
No longer able to meet his probing stare, I dropped my gaze and shifted slightly away. His scent was overpowering. And not in a good way.
"Sorry, I thought you wanted it." He couldn't hide the hurt in his voice as he pulled his body away from me. Instead of feeling cold, a swift relief enveloped me.
He raked a hand through his hair as I folded my arms, hiding my pebbled nipples.
"You're closed off with me one minute and then grinding your pussy against me the next.
" He slashed a hand through the air as he rolled away from me.
"What the fuck do you want?" His voice was laced with anger and frustration.
I stared at his tense back and watched the muscles move beneath his skin as he ran another annoyed hand through his blond locks.
Fear gutted me at the thought of David losing his patience with me completely.
Giving up and placing me in the too-hard basket before walking away.
What happened to my resolve to get my marriage back on track?
Every day, I felt like I was falling further and further away from him.
Tears pricked my eyes as a cold sheet of bleakness covered me.
I had a vision of myself alone. Adrift. Back to jumping from one job to another, one town to the next, searching for that elusive feeling of home.
I thought I'd found that with David. I had found it with David.
These fucking dreams and this penthouse project had me all messed up.
That was all. I could get us back on track.
I would get us back on track. Every marriage had its blips. This was ours.
I shuffled across the bed and stroked my hand down my husband's smooth back.
His breathing picked up, but he otherwise kept his body turned away.
Rigid. I slid my hand under his arm and cuddled up against his back.
My nipples were still erect, and they grazed against his flesh.
I felt his breath catch beneath my hands.
My conscience pinged as I realized that the evidence of my literal wet dream was now being used with David. My hard nipples. My wet panties. They were proof of a prolonged, unconscious affair. It felt wrong. Like I was somehow cheating.
But who do you feel conflicted over? Your husband or your phantom lover?