Midnight Dream Lover – by Shana Gray #4
She was kaput. Tired, no, exhausted, or shattered as they called it here.
What the hell had she done to be so wiped?
A sweet hazy memory of a dream niggled in the back of her mind.
A dim awareness that stirred her belly. She tried to hang on to the image, but it fled quickly and left her with a yawning emptiness and overpowering urge to pee.
She tried to recall it again…something, but she couldn’t remember what it was and shook her head.
Footsteps in the hall outside her door thumped away, and the old inn’s floor creaked and groaned with the passage.
Had someone been in her room? She glanced around and nothing seemed amiss.
The bed was chaos, though. The top sheet bundled up at her feet and the thick comforter lumped in a big knot on the footboard.
A shiver rippled through Chyna. Why was the bed so messed up?
Goosebumps rose on her skin. She was naked, and the chill of the room kissed her flesh.
She furrowed her brows and tried to think straight withher sleep-muddled mind.
Had someone been in her room and ravaged her while she slept?
Chyna snorted, “I could only be so lucky.”
She had to pee. Bad. Sliding from the bed, she padded to the small bathroom and rushed back to bed once she was done.
Still unable to shake the feeling that something was missing, she snuggled into the soft mattress with a groan.
She was tired and had had a bit too much Irish whiskey, so once her head hit the pillow she was out like a light again.
Just as sleep claimed her, she remembered.
Him. She’d just had sex with the most amazing lover.
Flinging her arm to the side of the bed, she felt around the cold sheets, hoping he’d be there.
He wasn’t. Chyna pulled the comforter up under her chin and rolled onto her side.
Maybe he was the one she just heard in the hall?
Maybe she had been ravaged and he’d come back to do it again.
A thrill of delight tickled her from her head to her toes.
Was she fucked up to crave being taken by a stranger again?
Nah, just very desperate and wishful.
She drifted off to sleep with the image of a powerful body.
Wide, strong shoulders, narrow hips, skilled hands, and a face like an—like a what?
As hard as she tried, she just couldn’t evoke a face.
Nothing except shadows. Almost like Jessie in Romancing the Stone .
Joan Wilder didn’t even know what Jessie looked like.
And here she was in the same boat with a Jessie of her own. Her faceless lover.
Chyna fell into the layers of sleep, her little snorts and sighs waking her briefly as she slipped into dreamland looking for Jessie.
The next day Chyna had lunch at the pub bar.
She slipped off the bar stool and it was, once again, time to relieve herself.
She had to pee like a racehorse thanks to the Guinness which she had definitely acquired a taste for.
Chyna smiled, realizing how very unladylike it was to say such a thing.
Ah well, she shrugged, it was the truth.
The loo was across the room of the ancient pub.
She’d giggled when the sign hanging by the door caught her attention.
It was also old, and swung with a gentle creak in the summer breeze blowing in the window.
Pub names in the UK were pretty cool and this one was no different.
The Purring Pussy. A smile quirked her lips and she wove her way between the tables full of patrons and tourists.
She’d dreamed it had a different name but it was so much cruder.
A shout and the crashing open of the outside door caught her mid-step. Chyna glanced to the entrance. The bright summer sun blinded her. She held her hand to her forehead, shielding from the glare.
Why did this all seem so familiar?
“Ah, ye crazy lout. O’course it’s five o’clock somewhere.” A deep, wonderfully timbered male voice, heavy with an Irish brogue and tinged with humor, reached her ears. She knew that voice, but from where?
Chyna stood rooted to the spot and stared at the open door. Something told her to stay put and wait. Wait to see who belonged to that sexy voice. It wasn’t long before a body filled the doorway. Had this happened in a previous life? Because it sure as hell seemed familiar.
A very tall and muscular frame blocked the sunlight and seemed framed in a halo.
Was he an angel? Had she died? Chyna blinked and focused her eyes, waiting for a chorus from heaven to break into song.
A vague recollection of a dream flashed in her mind.
It hovered, teasing on the edge of her consciousness.
Chyna fought to recall it and swore under her breath when she couldn’t.
He strode toward her with sure, purposeful steps. A stab of pure lust nearly made her double over right when her cell phone rang. She dug it out of her pocket and looked at the screen.
Déjà vu.
Why did she know it would be her mother? And right now wasn’t the time. No way did she want to hear her mom’s voice with this hunk of hot testosterone coming her way. Silencing the phone, she shoved it back into the pocket.
“Hello, my lovely.”
Chyna nearly swooned right into him. Good thing she put her phone away because she had a feeling he might fling it across the room if she hadn’t.
Chyna looked up, way up to his face, still shadowed by the blinding sun behind him.
All she could see was his glittering blue eyes. No angel was he. But no devil either.
“Holy shit.” Had she dreamed this guy up or what? A rush of desire snatched her breath. She stood with her mouth gaping like a fish out of water, staring at him, gob smacked. Quickly, Chyna swallowed and forced her lips to move. “Are you real?”
He laughed and it clapped around her like thunder. “Unless yer dreaming, lovely, I’m very real.” He leaned closer and his breath fluttered her hair. “Care to find out just how real I am?”
Chyna’s blood boiled with instant desire. She gushed in her panties and groaned when her nipples hardened.
“Pinch me. This has to be a dream.” She closed her eyes and sighed. A sharp pain made her holler, “Ouch! What the fuck?”
“Ye wanted me to pinch ye.”
“Well shit, that hurt.”
“Then you’re not dreaming, are ye?”
She shook her head and smiled. This was no dream and she rubbed the spot on her arm where he’d just tweaked her.
“So now, my lovely, are you up for finding out just how real I am?”
Before she could answer, he hauled her against him and cupped her ass with his hands. He pulled her tight until she felt every corded muscle press into her. The best thing was his cock. Hard, big, and thrusting against her belly. He must be hung like a horse.
“Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”
She glanced up. His face still shadowed, all she could see was his brilliant blue eyes and shiny white teeth.
Fuck me if that gypsy who read my fortune hadn’t been right. She foretold I’d find my perfect dream lover and she’d been right! All that and she only charged twenty pounds.
But Chyna still couldn’t see his face.
“Pinch me again.”
Shana Gray writes steamy contemporary romance that just might make you laugh.
With over 35 books behind her, some in multiple languages, she’s always eyeing her next storyline.
She lives in a small Ontario town, is a proud mom, granny, and human to Hiro, her golden retriever rescue dog.