Chapter 23 Maisie #2
“Just turn up with a basket of pies and go inside the cabin.”
“And you?”
“I’m a hungry wolf, and you’re Little Red, so I go up to the cabin and peer through the window.”
“And?”
He turns to look at me. “Are you sure you don’t want to—”
“Nope.” Whatever it is, I’m not interested. I have to know how this dream ends.
“Fine. I’m looking in through the window as you take off your hooded cape.
” He exhales unsteadily. From the bulge in his shorts, he must like what he sees.
“You’re hot. Really fucking hot. Hair down, tits incredible in this tiny white tank top.
Red lipstick that makes your lips look even bigger.
And you’re in the shorts. You reach up to put the pies on a tall shelf while I stare at your ass. ”
I frown. “Why would I be putting pies on a tall shelf?”
His cheeks flush red. “I don’t know, okay? It’s just what happens in the dream.”
I almost laugh at his embarrassed frustration. “Then?”
“I realize I’m not a wolf anymore.”
“So… you’re naked?”
He gives me a considering look. “Do you want me to be naked?”
“Of course not,” I blurt out. “I’m just interested in what happens in the dream.”
I’m lying. This dream sounds interesting as hell and kind of sexy, and I like the thought of being in this fairytale-style cabin while Hunter is watching me from the window, staring at my ass and getting increasingly turned on.
“Right,” Hunter says with a knowing smile. “Anyway, I’m mostly human and—"
I lift my hand. “Hold up. Mostly?”
“I still have my tail and fur on my chest.”
I consider whether I find this disturbing or hot. If things are about to get sexy in this dream, I’d better figure it out soon. “How’d you know you have a tail?”
“I look. Even in my dreams, I’m curious.”
That’s kind of cute.
I smile. “Then what happens?”
“I must make a noise because you spin around and look right at me. I hide just in time so you don’t see me, but I’m still watching you.” He glances at me. “Oh, your tank top is wet by the way. Totally transparent. I can see literally everything. It’s hot as hell.”
I don’t ask why. Logic doesn’t belong in dreams. “What are you doing as you watch me?”
His voice turns husky. “Stroking my cock. From the moment you stripped out of your cape, I started fucking my fist and wishing I was inside you.”
Shit.
I shift about a bit. “Then?” I ask breathlessly.
“You have a pie on this round table in the kitchen. Cherry. You stick your finger in it, and you suck it clean real slow.”
I stare at him, incredulous. “I stick my finger in it?”
Does he know how much work goes into making a pie? Especially one with a lattice crust? I know this is a dream and there is no logic in dreams, but the willful destruction of a pie crosses a line I didn’t know I had until now.
He covers his red face, his voice muffled as he continues, “Don’t, Maisie. Just know that I’m so turned on by this point that I’m barely holding myself together. Like… my need for you is intense.”
Suppressing my smile and struggling to hide how turned on I am by all this, I ask, “What happens next?”
“Then…” He moans. “Oh God, I can’t believe I’m about to say this out loud.”
“Go on.” I poke him on the arm.
He takes a breath, clamps his hand over his eyes, and says quietly, as if terrified someone other than me will hear him, “You call out, ‘I know you’re watching me, Mr. Wolf. I feel your big eyes on me. I want your big teeth in the back of my shoulder when you pin me down. And I want your big’—uh, that’s it. ”
He sits up.
I drag him back down. “Uh oh. You are not stopping there. Tell me the rest.”
He turns to look at me. “You say, ‘I want your big teeth in my shoulder when you pin me down. And I want your big cock inside me, filling me with your cum when you fuck me over this table.’” He clears his throat.
“Then I climb through your window, knock the pie on the floor, yank your shorts down, and fuck you on the table. Several times. And, uh, on the floor. And over the windowsill.” He lifts one hand as if to ward off a question he suspects is coming.
“Don’t ask about the windowsill. It made sense at the time.
Also, there’s lots of growling, which you seem to like a lot. ”
I stare at him, breathing hard with my mouth wide open.
I close it.
“Yeah,” he says unnecessarily. “Just so you know, I would never knock one of your pies to the floor like that. I know how hard you work on getting them perfect.”
I forgot to be outraged at the willful destruction of pie.
My mind is on other things. Urgent things. Things that make it difficult not to shift around, uncomfortable.
Turning away from Hunter, I stare up at the ceiling. My nipples are hard, and my panties are drenched.
“Hunter?” I say, my voice faint.
He tenses beside me. “Yeah?”
“I need you to fuck me. I need you to fuck me exactly like in your dream.”
He snaps his head toward me. “What!”
I look at him. “I’m being serious.”
He laughs. “No.” He looks almost hopeful, then shakes his head. “You’re joking.”
As I get up from the bed, he bolts upright, panicked. “Maisie! It was just a—wait. Why are you going into my bathroom?”
“I’ll be back.” I walk into his bathroom, pulling my tank top over my head. Once I’ve gotten it nice and damp in the sink, I squeeze out the water and struggle to get it back over my head. Then I walk back into the bedroom.
Hunter hasn’t moved from the bed. He looks like he’s struggling to believe what he’s seeing when his eyes land on my see-through tank top.
His eyes shoot to my face when I clear my throat.
“I’d get one of my pies from downstairs, but I’m not putting my pie up high on a shelf and getting cobwebs on it.
I know it was in your dream, but this is real life with real pie, and I’m not ruining my hard work like that.
If I have to stick my finger in anything, I could do it in a jar of grape jelly.
And I’ll put something else up on a shelf while you stare at my ass. Just not pie.”
As I finish speaking, he gets up from the bed, smiling as he approaches me.
He pins me against the doorframe with both hands on my hips and lowers his head to mine. “I love you,” he says, a soft smile in his eyes.
I was expecting him to laugh in my face, not say something that makes me want to cry. “Because I want to live out one of your dirty dreams?”
“Because you’re you. No other woman could turn me on, make me laugh, and make me want to hug them all at the same time. Just you.”
He kisses me, then takes his hands off my hips and backs up. “Arms up, baby.”
I raise my eyebrow. “My arms?”
“Yes, your arms,” he says, giving nothing away.
Figuring this must be a part of the dream he didn’t tell me before, I raise my arms over my head.
He stares at my breasts and swallows hard. Then he grips the bottom of my wet tank top and peels it off me, his eyes returning to my bare breasts with a hunger that makes me press my thighs together.
“Hunter?”
He tears his gaze away. “Wait there.”
He disappears into the bathroom with my shirt and returns seconds later with a large, soft-looking blue towel, dropping to his knees in front of me. He’s taller than I am, nearly six-three to my five-three, so being on his knees puts him a little below boob level.
When he starts drying my damp chest, it's efficient rather than sensual. “You in a wet shirt turns me on like nothing else.”
“But?”
He dries my back and sets the towel down to look at me. His expression is surprisingly concerned. “I don’t want you to get a cold wearing a wet t-shirt, baby. This is real life and not a dirty dream, which means you—not sex—will always be my priority.”
That’s sweet.
When I cup his face, his eyes drift closed and he leans into my touch. “Thank you for being patient with me while I got over my insecurities and for not just loving me, but being my friend as well. I love you, too.”
Smiling with his eyes closed, he turns his face toward my hand and kisses the inside of my wrist. “You’re worth waiting for, and I will always be your friend.
” He opens his eyes and his gaze flicks to my chest. “I’m gonna to be real honest with you, Maisie.
Standing topless in front of me like this is killing off brain cells.
I am shocked I got through this conversation without convincing you that I’m an idiot. ”
“Sorry.” I yank my hand from his face and spin around.
His muffled groan suggests turning my back hasn’t improved the situation. It might have even made things worse. I’ve put my ass practically in his face, and I’m wearing the shorts that inspired his dirty dreams. I’m flashing him my boobs if I turn around or my ass if I stay as I am.
“Um, I didn’t think things through before I did that,” I tell him, face hot. “I’d pick up the towel but that would involve bending over. Should I turn to my side or run into the bathroom?”
His bark of laughter draws a smile to my lips.
“There’s no need for that,” he says, chuckling.
My breath hitches as he wraps his arm around my middle, tucking my back against his chest and walking us backward. I gasp when he throws himself back on the bed and kisses the back of my shoulder.
I shiver, my eyes fluttering shut. “Maybe you shouldn’t kiss me there,” I suggest breathlessly, my mind full of images from his dirty dream I’m desperate to live out.
“Why? Having inappropriate thoughts about me with a tail?” he whispers, smiling as he kisses my neck. All the while, his right hand goes on a slow and lazy exploration of my chest.
Torn between giggling and moaning, I make a soft sound of pleasure instead.
“Because—” I let out a moan as he cups my right breast, tweaks the nipple, and repeats the action with my left.
“Because?” he prompts, pressing a lingering kiss on my pulse.
“Because… oh!” His hand slips beneath the waistband of my shorts, and I whimper, widening my thighs for his fingers to reach more of my pussy. “Oh God!”
“Feel good?” he murmurs, his breath warm in the shell of my ear.