10. Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
Maeve
“Are you going to be my good girl, Detective?” Aidan stands at the foot of my bed, a storm in his silver-grey eyes shining down at me. He’s fully clothed, but something is different about him. Perhaps it’s the prim blue shirt and tie. I’ve never seen him wear them before.
Somehow, I know it’s a dream, but it’s a dream I don’t want to wake up from.
“Do you want me to?”
I don’t recognise my own voice. It’s mine, and yet, the breathy need that echoes around us is foreign to my ears.
Aidan’s lips curve up in a wolfish grin, and I shudder. “Yeah, I do. Spread your legs for me.”
I blink and look down the length of my body, surprised to find I’m naked apart from a pair of lacy pink panties covering the most intimate part of my body. I resist the urge to cover my breasts with my arms and grip the duvet instead.
“Now, Maeve.”
I wet my lips. My heart pounds in my chest, but it’s not fear or adrenaline coursing through me right now.
What is it?
I part my legs as he tells me to.
“Good.”
His praise sends a seductive thrill through me.
With slow, deliberate movements, Aidan removes his tie and tosses it on the bed. “We’ll need that later.”
“Why?”
He chuckles but doesn’t answer, his gaze leaving a scorching trail all over me. I shiver, almost able to feel how much he burns. The longer he looks at me, the more impatient I get.
Impatient and needy.
My breaths become louder, and goosebumps cover my body. The anticipation is almost too much to handle. Again, I feel something so deliciously sinful that it becomes harder to lie still, waiting for him to make his next move.
My eyes widen in shock.
Oh, my gosh: I’m wet.
Wet, horny…throbbing.
“Now.” Aidan puts a knee up on the bed and leans down. His nostrils flare, his eyes meeting mine, and I gasp at the pure hunger reflected in them. “Should I tell you what I want to do to you? Or just show you?”
“Both.”
Where is this bravery coming from?
“Fuck, I love your choice.” He moves closer, kneeling in front of me.
He places his hands on my ankles, and shivers rack my body.
It shouldn’t be possible to be so ready for him from such a simple touch, but I am.
My gaze roams his body without shame. He moves to unbutton his shirt, and I can’t do anything but follow his nimble fingers.
He opens the shirt, revealing a torso dusted with the same dark sandy-coloured hair as the scruff on his face.
My mouth waters from the sheer male perfection in front of me.
“I’m going to enjoy making you beg for me.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “I don’t beg.”
“But you will, Maeve. You most certainly will.”
He runs his hands up my legs, his thumbs coming closer and closer to where I need them the most, but the moment he reaches my panties, he moves away again.
I raise my hips, unable to hide the way his touch affects me.
His lips stretch wider in a triumphant smirk. “Are you already wet for me?”
I tilt my head back and peek up at him through my lashes. He’s hypnotising me with his words. My breasts feel heavy, my nipples hard and aching.
“No,” I lie.
“Liar.”
“Fine, you win,” I murmur. Then I look pointedly at the bulge straining against his jeans. “Yes, I’m wet. Are you going to do something about it?”
He doesn’t grace me with an answer. Instead, he leans closer, covering my body with his. He places his arms next to my head, caging me in. He settles between my aching core, and I can’t hide a gasp of surprise when his length rubs on my pussy.
“I always win, Detective.”
His face is so close. I’d only have to raise my head a fraction to feel his lips on mine.
Will they be soft? Hard? Slow? Urgent?
How I wish I knew what he tastes like.
I keep our eyes locked, not giving in so easily. “I never lose.”
He lifts a hand, removes his glasses, and sets them on my nightstand.
“Good girl.” The soft praise sends another wave of yearning through me.
Feeling bold, I raise my arms and knees, binding him to me in a tight embrace.
I wrap my legs around his back, trapping him against me, needing to get as close to him as I can.
His eyes turn molten, and wetness gathers in my pussy.
I can’t resist rubbing myself against his cock.
I don’t even mind that he can see that he’s turned me into such a wanton creature.
I’m so close to begging for him to fuck me.
“Are you going to make a mess of my clothes?” he asks.
I smirk. “I hope so.”
He groans, long and hard, and I bite my lip as the vibration hits my chest. The sound is primal, vivid in its need, and my clit pulses.
“Fuck…”
Then, as if he can’t contain himself, he slants his head, his lips hovering over mine.
He closes a hand around my right breast, and the tight pinch on the hardened nub sends a shiver through me.
His breathing turns ragged, the puffs of air filling the silence.
The throbbing between my legs is almost painful.
Finally, he lowers his head.
His lips find mine.
…
My alarm wakes me up.
I shoot up in bed, legs tangled in my duvet, arms flailing wildly. I search for my mobile and swipe the screen to silence it. My cheeks burn, and there’s an incessant throbbing between my legs.
“A dream.” I laugh, disbelief clear as glass. “Only a dream.”
I try to ignore my neediness and frame my burning cheeks between my cold hands. I need to settle down. It must be all the spicy romance novels I’ve been reading lately that set my body on fire like this. It most certainly can’t be the real Aidan worming his way into my dreams.
Where did that come from? I don’t know, but it felt so real. I can’t recall ever having such vivid wet dreams before, if ever. But my body doesn’t lie. My hard nipples rub against my soft nightgown, and I moan softly as the touch sends friction straight between my legs that’s impossible to ignore.
But what’s more important: I don’t want to ignore it.
I glance at the time and make quick work of tossing my nightgown off over my head.
Then I reach for my nightstand, my hands fumbling blindly for my bullet.
Once I find it, I scramble for the bathroom.
Even though I’m alone, I don’t feel comfortable seeing to my needs anywhere else but behind a closed bathroom door.
I flip the lock and step towards the mirror, my whole body on display.
I raise my leg and rest it on the low stool underneath the sink, baring myself before me.
I’m flushed, the freckles on my body almost hidden from sight, and my moss-green eyes are glazed with want.
I push my panties to the side and then turn on the bullet.
When the soft vibration hits my clit, I gasp loudly.
Here, behind the locked door, I have no shame. I don’t hide. I fantasise about my unbelievably gorgeous farmer as I work myself closer to relief. But it’s the farmer from my dream. The commanding and bossy one. The one I secretly long to know but will never admit out loud.
Somehow, I already know I don’t want the friendly, sweet farmer to make love to me.
I need the rough and sinful one, the one who teased me in my dream. The man who wants to take control of my pleasure. The one who will make sure I come first before he sees to his own needs.
I pinch my clit and whimper loudly. A surge of wetness gathers between my legs, and I jerk my hips in a steady rhythm as I work my bullet over my heated flesh.
My breaths quicken, turning shallow and louder.
The orgasm tears through me, powerful, despite how short-lived it is, and I remove the vibrating bullet from my sensitive skin when I can’t take it anymore.
I rest my arms on the vanity in front of me.
As I steady my breathing, I can’t help but wonder if the friendly farmer could ever be the commanding one.
Flashes of the dream simmer on the edge of my brain, and I shake my head at how bold I was in it.
I was vocal. I sparred with Dream Aidan in a way I’ve never sparred with a man.
And I was brave. I wasn’t worried about my top belly or the softness of my flesh.
Of telling him what I wanted.
I wish I could be that way in the real world, but not once in the three years we were a couple did Colin make me feel bold enough to say what I wanted and needed from him.
He never asked, though. He didn’t take his time. He wasn’t patient. Not in the way I needed him to be.
I wonder if Aidan is different.
I slam the door shut on the thought before it gets the chance to take root. That is a road I can’t follow. If I do, I’ll never be able to meet his eyes directly without blushing. Dreaming about him this one time is bad enough even if it did give me the sexual release I’d been aching for.
No, it’s better if I forget that his number is saved in my phone and instead treat him like I would the other villagers.
Like an acquaintance instead of a friend.
Nothing more, and nothing less.
Unfortunately, what I want and what I get are two very different things.
When I step outside and turn my back to lock the door, the handle on my bag snaps, and it falls to the pebbled walkway with a loud thump. The clasp flips open, and the contents spill out.
“Feck it,” I mutter and bend down to pick them up. My newest late-night read is dangerously close to a puddle left from the rainfall last night, and I reach to save it.
A very large, veined hand with freckles scattered on it snatches it up before I do. My eyes snap up, then widen in horror at the sight of my fantasy come to life right in front of me.
“Aidan?” I squeak.
He tips his lips up. “Morning, Detective.”
He glances at the book in his hand and turns it around to face the front. It’s written by one of my favourite authors whose books I always turn to when I need cheering up.
“My Favorite Holidate? It looks…very Christmassy?”
I gulp. “It is. Um, I mean, it’s a Christmas romance.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners. “But it’s spring.”
“Your point being?”
He reads the back of the book, and his eyebrows knit. “Aren’t you supposed to only read these books around the holidays?”