Jon’s Desert Prince Dream

Prologue

I lay curled up next to Donovan, enjoying a lazy Saturday—a rare thing in my world. We were sated and tuckered out from some fun times, and with my eyes closed like this, I could fully rest. Truly, not a single cell in my body wished to move.

“Jon?”

“Mmm?” He wasn’t over there thinking, was he? How dare.

“That dream you told me about, with me being a desert prince and you being enslaved, how vivid was this dream?”

“Pretty damn vivid, why?”

“Can you tell me the full story?”

He was truly thinking over there, wasn’t he? “I don’t mind, but why the curiosity?”

“Oh, I don’t know, possibly because you’ve ambushed me with crazy sex three times based on that dream?”

You know, put like that… “I mean, the dream spanned multiple nights, so it’s going to take more than ten minutes to tell it to you.”

I could practically hear him preen. “You dream of me that often?”

“I’m not feeding into a dangerously inflated ego.”

He chuckled, still pleased as punch. “So you won’t tell me?”

All things considered, it was really only fair I told him the story. He had asked, and it was kind of infiltrating our sex life, so… Besides, I didn’t mind. Although I might create a monster by telling him the full story because he was already entirely too pleased as it was.

“Well, all right. The dream starts with me in chains, and I have the sense I came from some kind of European styled country. I don’t have a full background for myself before I’m drawn into the palace.

Oh, also keep in mind, the story very much operates on dream logic—parts aren’t going to totally make sense with awake logic.

Like, for some reason you were instantly in love with me. ”

Donovan snorted. “That part makes the most sense, to my mind.”

I kissed him for saying sweet things, but now that I was in the swing of story mode, I wasn’t going to let him distract me. “Let me see if I can paint the full picture…”