the night,
and not of dreams.
Strong
hands caressed her and she writhed wantonly beneath them. It had
been so long since a man had touched her that way. Helena let her
legs fall open to his urging. His fingers traced tickling patterns
on her belly, over the springy curls, down to her thighs.
She sighed and lifted her hips to the touch. It felt
so good. This was the best sort of dream. She gave herself up to
it. The hands of her dream lover caressed her thighs, then drifted
upward to tangle briefly in her curls again before slipping a
finger delicately along her slick folds. She sighed and parted her
legs. The finger stroked her, dipped inside, then slid upward to
press gently on her clitoris.
Her body jerked at the sudden, delightful pressure.
She heard herself moan. Was that out loud? Helena discovered she
didn't really care.
She slid her palms over her erect nipples and
tweaked them in time to the gentle press and release from below.
Ah, she was going to come. The entire focus of her body became
centered between her legs. Her breathing quickened. Slickness
coated her thighs as she shifted them to urge her dream lover to
give her more of what she craved.
He did. Another low cry burst from her throat when
his tongue swiped along her flesh. His finger slipped deep inside
her now, fucking her in rhythm to the stroking of his tongue on her
clit. Helena lifted her hips. This was perfect. A lover who knew
exactly how to touch her, where to touch her. A faceless, silent
lover who pleasured her without demanding anything in return.
As though from a far off place, she thought she
heard the crashing of the ocean. Her body responded. Cresting and
falling like waves on the sea, her climax built. It centered
between her legs, on her clit and inside her cunt, but the pleasure
radiated throughout her entire body. Her nipples tingled. The first
shudders of orgasm swept over her, and she felt her flesh begin to
pound and spasm.
She came hard, then rose and came again. The second
climax was milder, but lasted longer. For what felt like an hour
she surfed the contractions rippling through her.
She caught the scent of the ocean now, not just the
sound. Salt and water, the tang of seaweed, a hint of fish that
might have been unpleasant if it did not so totally blend with the
other scents. The smell was familiar. More than just a beach smell.
Still coasting on the aftermath of her orgasm, Helena let herself
sink lower into her soft bed. The dream was fading. Her dream
lover...
Her eyes opened, startled, and she sat up in bed
with a scream that shook the room. "What the hell do you think
you're doing?"
The man she'd rescued last night knelt between her
legs. The daylight streaming through the window highlighted hints
of blue and green in his black hair. His eyes met hers without
blinking, and she saw the same colors echoed there.
Helena pulled her oversized T-shirt down over her
thighs and sat up against the headboard. "What..."
She couldn't find any more words for a moment. With
her body still languorous and sated from its recent climax, she was
having a bit of trouble focusing. She bit on her tongue, hard, then
shouted, "Get out of here!"
He cocked his head and studied her. Then he lifted
his hands and made a fluttering motion with the fingers, moved one
hand in a semicircle that ended with the palm facing up and made a
low squeak in his throat.
Fear stabbed her. "You freak! Get out!"
He looked alarmed and shook his head. Then he
reached for her. Instinct took over, and Helena pistoned her foot
out. It caught him directly in the chest and flung him back and off
the bed. He hit the wood floor with a thump that shook the
room.
Helena leaped to her feet and put up her hands,
ready to defend herself if she needed to. She waited for her
attacker to stand up, but her resolve faltered when he did. His
eyes were bright with longing, and they somehow pierced her to