Chapter Four #2
“I want you,” she heard herself saying instead, “to tie me up.”
Helen gasped as she found herself suddenly bound spread eagle. Just like that. She shook her head. But she would never say those words!
Dream.
“Oh yes, Hades, take me,” she heard herself purring, arching up for his touch.
He climbed on top of her and she caught glints of his blond hair in the semi-darkness. It was Hades, and all coherent thought disappeared as he kissed her, his big body covering her feverish one.
It was a long and erotic kiss, his tongue tangling with hers slowly, possessively, and she responded with mindless longing. His hands caressed everywhere, moving intimately over her body. The edginess inside her grew unbearable. She arched up against his heat.
“Like the other night,” she whispered. “Kiss me there, Hades.”
“Beg me,” he commanded, in that soft Southern drawl. “Beg me and I will.”
Her lips opened and the words came out of their own accord. “Please, Hades,” she heard herself saying, the tone of her voice shockingly beseeching.
Dream.
If she were dreaming, she would have Hades tied up, with her torturing him. This wasn’t a dream. This was VR...
“Lower,” she heard herself instructing. She struggled to stop herself but it was as if she were speaking someone else’s words. Her whole body throbbed with the need to have his mouth there. “Please. Lower. Yes.”
She cried out. It was exactly like their night together, with that incredible mouth teasing her as she lay there, not moving, letting him build her fire higher and higher.
His hands gripped under her wide open thighs as his tongue wickedly tortured her clitoris rhythmically, over and over, until she thought she’d go crazy with need.
She writhed against him desperately when she felt him withdrawing.
She didn’t even need any prompting. This time, on her own, she cried out, “Please, Hades, pleaassse, I want—”
A buzzing noise came through, forcing her reluctantly back to semi-consciousness. She was barely aware of her surroundings, her body silently screaming for release, her heart beating erratically. She was panting as her mind tried to will herself back to that pleasurable place.
“...want it,” she groaned out softly. She was so close, so close...
She heard the sound waves and remembered the first dream, the one with her underwater. She remembered she had set the BE machine for three cycles. The sound waves were so loud...call my name if you want me...her eyes closed obediently as she surrendered.
“Hades...” she whispered.
HE WAS A BASTARD FOR setting the buzzer off. He hadn’t wanted to. It took every bit of control in him to press the button. Fortunately, he hadn’t been fantasizing about fucking her. He didn’t think he would have been quite so willing to stop.
He was hot in his sensor suit, which was telling, as it was auto-temperature adjustable. He wanted out of it. He wanted a real live Elena in his arms, instead of a fantasy.
But he wasn’t in this business to be a nice guy. Even to himself.
Elena was moving restlessly, definitely reacting to his fantasy.
He wished he could see what was going on in her mind.
The BE machine showed her to be between REM and theta and he kept it at that level as he became more engrossed in his make-believe Elena, imagining her supine and willing, saying things he knew she wouldn’t have in real life.
When he’d imagined her asking him to tie her up, stretching her arms over her head and opening her legs, he’d gone rock hard. His sensor suit with the “enhanced” feature tested every ounce of willpower he had not to go ahead and satisfy his desires.
He ruthlessly crushed his own male needs—very urgent male needs—and concentrated on the sound waves. A drop of sweat trickled down the bridge of his nose as he forced himself to relax.
“Hades...”
Her voice, a soft throaty sound laced with sexy longing coming over the intercom, tormented him to continue on, to finish this particularly erotic story in his head. He swallowed. No. Not yet.
When this was done and she’d accepted the trigger, he would act on all his fantasies. In real life, with no barriers or thought of missions and responsibility. He’d enjoy her like a man would enjoy a beautiful, sensual woman—slowly and joyfully. That was, if she didn’t kill him for what he’d done.
His lips quirked into a rueful smile. He understood perfectly well that the real Elena wouldn’t be as compliant and eager as his fantasy Elena, the one with whom he was having so much fun with in his mind.
No, she would be an angry avenging wildcat after his blood.
He settled back, still smiling. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
He wondered whether he could make her jealous.
Jealousy was the ultimate blinding emotion.
She’d now been able to react in an intimate way to his dreams and fantasies.
He’d test that bond and see how her “connected” brainwaves would react to his projecting someone else into “their” fantasy.
That could be the final straw to get her to take the trigger.
“Round three, Elena,” he murmured. “What sexual deviant thing can I come up with that would distract you?”
HIS LIPS LEFT A TRAIL of fire down the side of her neck. She leaned back, silently giving him more access. His hands circled her waist firmly as he pushed her against a cool surface. He was all male heat on her; the cool against her flesh made her shiver with need for him.
Not a dream.
The warning flashed like a blinking neon sign in her head.
She turned her head and saw herself in a mirror.
She was wearing a black lacy bustier with a plunging neck line.
Red bowties seemed to be the only things holding the front together.
That, with the extremely low neckline, pushed her cleavage together until it was almost spilling out of the top of the see-through bustier.
What the hell...I don’t own such a tacky...
Understanding dawned. It was a dream, just not hers. Just like the other night. She should get used to it. She was in Hades’ head again and he was somewhere sleeping and having one of his erotic dreams. About her.
Her whole body clenched as she watched his head dipping lower, kissing the gentle slope of her breast. Her breath came out in a hiss when she felt his tongue, wet and wicked, teasing the flesh just above her left nipple.
He wrapped her right leg around his waist and she felt his hand caressing the back of her leg and bottom.
She followed the hand in the mirror as it disappeared between their two bodies, and suddenly, she didn’t care whether it was her dreaming or him dreaming.
She just wanted to get back to that part in the other dream—she swallowed, trying to slow down her thoughts, mixed with that aching need that was pushing her over the edge.
Not a dream.
She frowned. Why was she hearing a different warning now? It was hard to concentrate. Her thoughts were a confused jumble of unfinished sentences, with odd images and thoughts interrupting.
“I know it isn’t my dream,” she affirmed. “I don’t freaking own a bustier.”
Not that the affirmation mattered. Her body was wantonly pushing against the hand exploring her intimately, her leg curling, on its own accord tightening and loosening its hold of his body.
He knew exactly where to touch, inciting her into a frenzy even as he skillfully kept her right at the edge without pushing her over.
She was helpless against the rising tide of heated pleasure pushing against all her nerve endings.
She didn’t think she could survive another interruption.
Fantasy or not, her need for him was very real. She wanted this man desperately. Now. And if she didn’t make it happen soon, she knew the buzzer would wake her up again and she’d once again be left bereft, unable to get the magic release he kept promising her.
She caught an image of herself with her arms wrapped around his neck as he tilted her further back. His heat—she wanted his hot length inside her, not his fingers.
Dammit—dream or not, she was going to have him this time.
That image—of her so passively supine, so willing to be led—was Hades’, not hers.
She fought with herself to ignore the urge to follow the fantasy going on in her head.
She was not going to stay passive, dammit.
She was not going to let him take charge.
She made herself look at the mirror. A part of her understood it somehow represented her own mind, that she was seeing the fantasy through a mirror.
Her hand felt like lead as she forced it to obey her.
She reached between them, wrapping her hand around his thick length and guiding it toward her slippery heat.
She stood on tiptoe, using the leg around his waist as leverage.
The head of his penis nudged hard against her.
She felt giddy with desire and as she slid her hand down its length, she thought she heard Hades’ groan over the roar of anticipation reverberating in her ears.
She smiled in triumph. At last...she swiveled her hip, undulating toward...
Nothing.
She was suddenly standing alone. She swayed on her feet. Frustration like she’d never known before spewed out violently, like water from a busted fire hydrant, and she fell on her knees. She slapped the floor in anger but barely felt any pain.
She was hot all over, flushed with some kind of sexual inflammation for which she couldn’t find a cure.
The sensitiveness had turned into a raging fever.
Part of her was telling her to calm down, to think.
The other part was keening for release, that if she didn’t do something soon, she would go mad. The other part was winning.
She looked into the mirror in front of her, trying to control her breathing. The damn bustier was too tight. She grabbed at the ribbons, pulling at them till they were knotted up.