CHAPTER 13
Samia
Kian has taken center stage in so many of my dreams.
Since he started shadowing me, they’ve come regularly, most nights.
This one feels unique, and the heat curls deep within my belly as his teeth nibble along my neck. In my dreams, I’m wild and obnoxiously demanding of him, so there’s no problem whimpering his name, telling him I need his hands all over me.
The desperation feels like claws over my skin, making me insane.
I need him more than anything.
His hands are firm and dominant as he grips my hips, stroking them up the length of my back to hold me by the neck when he kisses me.
In the dream state, Kian is mostly always in shadow as though my brain won’t form all of his features, but I know it’s his body on top of mine or pressing into my back because he whispers the filthiest things as his hands take me over.
Even when I was unsure of him, I dreamed of erotic, impossible things.
In my intoxicating nighttime fantasies, Kian is every inch the overbearing man he is in my waking hours, but he’s more. He floods me with pleasure and soaks me with his masculinity, which drives me wild.
In the realm of my dreams, I openly confess that he’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, and his adept hands have the power to release all of my inhibitions. It’s while his mouth attaches to the side of my throat and his fingers delve between my thighs, prying them apart, that I beg him. I plead and promise him anything he wants.
“Anything, dreamgirl? Will you be mine?”
“Yes. Yes! Please, baby, I need you.”
“Fucking hell, you did it now.” He warns, and I laugh freely, hearing his torment, making his voice all rough and hot. Seeing him in agony, consumed by his desire for me, is like a potent elixir that I pursue relentlessly each night. There are days when all I can think about is going back to dream Kian and immersing myself in his obsession with me.
During my waking hours, he’s so restrained.
Watching me, sure.
And he rarely leaves me alone for a second. Constantly dogging my movements with his fiery eyes. Not even married couples spend as much time together as we do. But he never pins me to surfaces like my dream Kian does. He never tells me to get on my fucking knees, to take his cock out of his pants, and fix the erection I caused. Dream Kian is like an enhanced version of himself, and I love pushing his buttons until he explodes.
“Kian,” I moan as his fingers coax over my wetness, tormenting my clit in maddening circles until I’m prepared to attack him if he doesn’t give me what I need. But he never makes me wait for long. Even in my dream state, he’s in control because I want him everywhere, giving me his weight, but Kian has other ideas as he presses his chest to my back and moves his hand between my legs again. There’s no teasing this time, and I moan languidly as pleasure builds like a forest fire.
“Please, please, please.” I whimper as those wicked fingers drive into my soaked sex, sliding two as deep as he can go.
“Anything you fucking want, baby.” He declares in a hot growl next to my ear, fucking me with his fingers, the wet noise of my pussy sounding more real than ever before. And the pleasure. Oh, god, it breaks my back in half as I concave my spine, trying to chase the euphoria, but Kian won’t let me fuck his hand. His leg thrown over mine keeps me stationary.
It’s agony yet blissful, the way he treats my body, as if he owns me and can do anything he likes. The sensation skyrockets me to a climax, but my scream sounds different as it powers from my throat.
And that’s when my eyelids ping open as the orgasm racks me from the inside, sending manic shots of electricity throughout my body, and those dream fingers railing inside my clenching pussy no longer feels dream-like but real-real.
So many things cloud into my awakening brain all at once.
The firm hold Kian has around my body. One arm is buried between my shaking legs, the other held around my chest, his palm is possessively cupping my breast because he’s pushed it down into my shirt, and his mouth is coasting kisses to my neck and shoulder.
Under the sheet, my legs are trembling, and my belly is shuddering as the orgasm subsides, but Kian hasn’t wholly stopped fingering me. My muscles automatically contract, causing my inner walls to clench. When his fingers make contact with my G-spot, it triggers a powerful wave of ecstasy.
As the steam of lust clears, it hits me out of the blue that Kian has made me come while I was sleeping, and he doesn’t appear even a little guilty about it. Not with how he’s nibbling my throat and brushing his thumb against my too-sensitive clit.
“Oh, god.” I moan, biting my lip, enjoying every second of the thrill.
“Mmm, my dreamgirl is back with me.” he doesn’t pose it as a question. Just as well, because as I open my lips to speak, all that comes out of my throat is a guttural groan as I undulate against his fast-moving hand. The friction on my clit sends me wild. In some recess of my mind, the smallest part that Kian hasn’t invaded knows I should ask what he’s doing and why he thinks it’s okay to maul me while I’m asleep, but I can’t even rally a token give-a-shit about consent.
This completely contrasts with what a girl should do in a self-preservation situation. It’s unnatural, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
His presence is heady, almost causing my brain to swim as I try to grab more air into my wheezing lungs.
It’s as though I’ve conjured Kian into existence, and he’s creating pleasure more dangerous than my fruitful dreams could ever manage.
Giving my shoulder a soft bite, he strokes me one last time and removes his fingers before I can come.
“Roll onto your back, baby.” He issues roughly, and my mind empties of questions and springs into action, doing as he asks. As I roll over, Kian climbs on top of me.
Looming like a God.
No, he’s never been God-like; he has too much of a ruthless reputation for that title. But he’s a devil who wants to worship me. It’s clear from how his stare sinks into my skin. And witnessing it in real-time, when neither of us is holding back our feelings, steals the breath out of my lungs. He looks so sexy. So in line with his desire.
On some level, I know we must have done this before if he’s secure in finger-fucking me awake, or maybe he is the devil and doesn’t care about crossing boundaries.
I’ll bet that it’s more the latter.
But at that moment, when my body is highly tuned to a frequency I don’t remember feeling before, my moral compass is forgotten, and I reach for his shoulders. They’re sharp, sculpted, and bronzed from the sun. And very bare.
He’s motionless and letting me look my fill.
Every inch of Kian makes my pussy throb. I need him to fill me in like he had been doing minutes ago. But he has other things in mind as I watch him push up my sleep shirt and then scrape kisses across my belly and lower. His rusty tones settle low in my abdomen, blooming heat where I ache the most, as his hands roam underneath my shirt to palm my breasts like he owns them.
“You are so sinful, dreamgirl.” He husks, “You’ve been dry humping me all night. I can’t take it any longer.” he licks around my belly button. “Moaning my name like a filthy fucking prayer.” He nips with his teeth and applies a swipe from his tongue. And then, without invitation, he whips down my shorts, shocking a gasp out of me like I didn’t think that was his plan all along. “Open your legs for me.”
Nothing has ever sounded sexier, and my body clenches all over.
“Now, Samia.”
Okay, that is sexier.
I move my knees apart on either side of Kian. He rushes into place, and my legs cradle his body. And when he moves up, it pushes my knees higher, opening me wider, my legs dangling from his sharp shoulders. The way his gaze drops to my bare sex, and then he groans, is all I can do not to tear my bed sheets in half. It’s hard enough to keep my horniness contained, but then Kian lowers his head and skims a kiss along the inside of my sensitive thigh, and I lose all decorum, whimpering his name with a hiss of longing.
“So sweet. You’re gonna let me have my fill of this perfect pussy.”
Perfect? Me? I blush to the roots of my hair as his pure masculinity becomes my only source of air while I puff breaths in and out of my slack lips.
His groan is something I’ll remember forever. It reaches inside me and twists me up until I’m a panting wreck, splayed out and badly waiting for Kian to give me that first intimate kiss.
All he’s doing is staring between my legs, and I’m a horny mess.
I want to grind shamelessly against his face, to feel how his stubble reacts against my wet skin.
I don’t have to wait long before he dips forward, and that’s when I feel Kian’s open mouth. He doesn’t start lightly. I should have expected nothing less than full steam ahead from a caveman like him, when he kisses my pussy with the same passion he uses on my mouth.
“All my fantasies are about this incredible pussy. Wrecking it. Sliding deep and feeling how it latches on. Making it mine.” He grunts, tonguing me open, slicing his tongue from side to side against my needy clit. If I weren’t so preoccupied with remembering to breathe, I would tell him what my deviant dreams have been about. But Kian steals my ability to talk when he sucks harder on my pleasure spot.
I swear I see stars bursting behind my eyelids, and his fingers tease around my entrance when the orgasm fires out of me and ricochets around my body like a pinball machine. Even before he can slide those delicious fingers deep inside me, I’ve bowed my spine; the guttural cry pushes out of my throat unbidden.
He keeps sucking long after my climax crashes, slower now, like he’s worshipping the intimate taste of me. And then he stops, but only to press kisses to my inner thigh. It’s then I realize his fingers have stalled inside me, and one slight curl of those fingers, and I moan.
But it’s too much, too soon, and I grab his wrist. Kian’s eyes rise in the dark, and it’s almost like they glow with arousal.
“No more,” I gasp. My whole vagina will break if he tries to demand a third orgasm from me right away. I’ve always been a one orgasm and sated kind of girl, so having two back-to-back is like my vagina won the grand prize on a game show. “I can’t take more.”
“Are you sure, baby?” he licks my thigh, sinking his teeth in gently, and though my brain is willing, my flesh needs a timeout.
“Yes.” I exhale, and I feel the shape of Kian’s smiling lips against my leg as he slips his fingers out of my pussy. As done as I feel, my sex still tries to keep them inside me like the queen of the sluts. Kian laughs lightly and kisses my inner thigh a last time before he climbs up between my legs. His hands brace near my shoulders, and the sight of him is something to behold. The way he carries himself exudes dominance, and a multitude of thoughts rush through my head, but amidst the chaos, one thing remains clear - my feelings for Kian have unlocked in an instant.
I’ve gone from disbelieving we could ever be in a relationship, especially knowing how different we are, to worrying when I don’t see him for a few hours. And now, burning for his touch and attention.
How the Kian tides have changed.
And it has nothing to do with the orgasms. Much.
He’s been crowding into my thoughts for weeks, turning everything I know on its head until all that directs my waking and sleeping hours has been him. This looming man with his hot eyes and sinful mouth. When he brings that mouth down closer to mine, I lean up and meet him halfway. Unbothered that he’ll taste of me, I open my lips and moan when we connect in a carnal way. Like every kiss we’ve shared, Kian is in total control; he knows the depth and firmness I enjoy the most, and his kiss sends me reeling while clinging to his broad shoulders. It’s while we’re kissing that his fingers probe between my legs again, and I jolt at the connection when he pries my sex open to toy around my clit.
“Kian,” I whine into his mouth.
“Are you hurting here?”
“I’m a little sensitive.” I share, and I see the whites of his eyes in the dark, but he doesn’t immediately remove his fingers but moves them deeper, from my clit down to where I’m embarrassingly soaked.
“Take a deep breath, dreamgirl.” He says. I follow his instructions instinctively, and as I pull air into my lungs, Kian pushes his fingers into me deeper than moments ago. The shock has my back arching in the middle as pleasure comes at me from all sides. I wasn’t lying when I said I was too sensitive down there. Maybe from lack of use or the surprise of unexpected orgasms breaking my vagina walls. Kian must feel the shudder that travels through me because he rests his lips against mine, not kissing, but the intimacy is there.
“Shhh, beautiful girl, I know.” He removes his fingers slowly and then rears back on his knees. It becomes clear why he did that when he uses a hand to push down his underwear, freeing the enormous artillery, also known as his cock. While locking gazes with me, Kian wraps his wet fingers around it.
Jesus, Lord, have mercy. He wanted my lubrication to help jerk him off.
I might expire. I feel dizzy, but an alien would have to beam into the bedroom and spoon out my eyeballs to get me to drag my gaze away from what I’m seeing unfold in front of me.
“Scoot back against the pillows,” he rasps, his voice dropping an octave to a rumbly deepness that lashes over all my buzzing nerve endings. With my body pressed against the headboard, my legs remain obscenely spread apart, creating an enticing scene for Kian, who is kneeling between them, his gaze never leaving me as he strokes himself off.
“Beautiful girl.” He grunts, rolling his palm to the thick, leaking crown of his cock and back down again. “What did I do to deserve you, huh?”
“Knowing who you are, probably nothing, you rogue,” I say, biting the corner of my lip. Swirls of desire attack me all over as I watch my private sex show.
Kian only laughs, but the sound is soon replaced with labored breathing.
“What big eyes you have, dreamgirl.”
“Why do you call me that?” I ask, drawing my eyes from his powering fist to look at his face. He’s so into it, clearly loving every moment, and even while he’s looking at me, he nudges my thighs open. His hand firmly clutches my leg, his palm inching closer to the sensitive spot between my thighs, sending waves of anticipation through my body. And when he presses the leaking crown of his cock against my clit, my eyes roll into the back of my head. It’s so hot as he tries to fuck pleasure out of my abused clit. I whimper from the back of my throat as he leans back again and resumes powering his fist.
“Because you’re my dreamgirl, Samia. The woman out of my reach. You know you’re far too good for me, but here you are, watching me about to come all over you.” The husky way he declares it sends flutters of feeling between my legs, coursing over my heated skin. A few more pumps glide along his shaft, and Kian’s breathing increases. “My smart, stunning, cranky dreamgirl. I couldn’t have made you better if I molded you in clay.”
My heart kicks up a notch. Why does that sound romantic?
It’s most probably the shock of being awoken suddenly so my boyfriend can jerk off onto my skin. Yeah, that’s it. It can’t be all these growing feelings I have for Kian tearing their way into my heart, stamping his name all over me.
There are still a lot of gaping holes in my memory, but affection for Kian seems to fill some of them, and while I watch as he drops his head a few inches, bringing his face aligned with mine, he smiles, and I fall into deeper feelings that consume me like a fireball.
“Give me your mouth and tell me what thoughts just crossed your mind to make you look so dreamy.” He demands, making me laugh into his gorgeous, rogue face as I clasp his stubble cheeks, drawing him in.
I say. “Not a chance, MacNamara.” Then I smash his mouth in a heated kiss, the sound of our groans and his jerking hand echoing throughout the spacious bedroom. When Kian wrenches his mouth away, it’s not because he wants to stop kissing me. It’s so we can both watch as his climax comes to its finish, and it splashes over my pussy and abdomen as Kian grunts and doesn’t waste a drop until he’s sated.
If this is the first time it’s happened, it’s the most captivating thing I’ve ever witnessed. The sight of Kian unraveling like that stirs up a chaotic storm within me, prompting me to reclaim his mouth, tracing my tongue along his lower lip.
What happens next puts my world upside down, and I’m unsure I can recover.
As our mouths turn lazy, slowly parting but coming back together again as if we can’t bear to be apart for long, Kian nips my top lip, giving me a zip of pain he soothes with a gentle lick. I feel how he smiles against my mouth, and the move is addictive. How sweet he seems right now.
“I love you, Samia,” he announces.
Just blurts it out like he hasn’t given me ample reason to have a heart attack in his bed. I push against his chest to put inches of space between us, to make sure my ears haven’t been jumbled with orgasms, and I’ve heard wrong.
There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes, daring me to reject his declaration, but his unwavering stare tells me he’s ready for any response.
Does Kian love me?
How is that even possible?
I’m speechless. My throat won’t cooperate with mundane things like words.
I swallow around the rock of emotion threatening to choke me. It’s unsure right then if I want to laugh or cry.
Kian loves me.
I don’t know why I have an unsettling feeling about it.