In a semisecluded alcove off the main gaming room were some tables. An unoccupied blackjack table was there waiting, as if he’d wished it into existence. Weird. But not as strange as the other gamblers’ being faceless, sort of blurry, like his brain couldn’t conjure individual features, so they were simply avatars. He pulled Rowan up to the table and positioned her, back against the edge.
“Stay just like that. I’m going to enjoy peeling off every inch of that getup.”
“What if I want to undress you?”
“You’ll get your turn.” He winked. “In the next dream.”
“You’re sure there’ll be a next one?”
“A guy can hope.”
Taking the hem of her shirt, he pulled the material over her head and tossed it away. Her full breasts were almost spilling over a lacy black bra, and he resisted the urge to lick his lips. Instead he flicked the front clasp and parted the cups, revealing a gorgeous pair of breasts tipped by dusky nipples that perked under his attention. Especially when he rolled them between his fingers, plucking them to firm peaks.
Bracing her hands on the table’s edge, she arched her back with a moan of pleasure. Moving between her spread thighs, he leaned into her, cupping one pretty globe and flicking the nipple with his tongue. The sweet flavor of her skin burst on his taste buds, pure delight—to him and his wolf. The beast in him growled, wanting more. All she would give.
Kneeling, he grasped the waistband of her leathers and paused, looking up to be sure this was truly all right. If not, he’d stop. He’d be left with a serious case of blue balls, but he would never force a woman. The wicked twinkle in her eyes and a slight nod was all the green light he needed.
Unbuttoning and unzipping the pants, he began to peel them down, half expecting to see a scrap of lacy black undies to match the bra. A neat thatch of dark curls greeted him instead, and lust almost sent him over. His blood ran hot, the fire within stoked to boiling.
“Figured they’d only get in the way,” she said in a husky voice, as though reading his mind.
A witty reply lodged in his throat as he uncovered long, toned thighs and those muscular buttocks. By the time he pulled off her boots and finished with the pants, he was damned near salivating. Rowan was more than perfection.
“You’re a goddess.”
She laid a hand on top of his head as he urged her legs to a wider stance. The scent of her sex combined with her unique ocean fragrance was ambrosia, enough to drive him wild. Gently, he parted her folds and tasted the little clit. She squirmed, tightened her grip on his head, encouraging him to take more.
Glad to oblige, he laved her slit, giving her as much pleasure as he knew how, getting her nice and wet. Then he tongue-fucked the slick channel, playing with the nub of her clit at the same time, until she yanked on his hair.
“Please! I need you in me.”
Pushing to his feet, he wiped his mouth and grinned. “Anything the lady wants.”
“I want to not feel like a lady right now,” she retorted, beckoning him with a finger.
“I think I can deliver.” At last he freed his erection, shoving his jeans down his hips. “Up on the table you go, on your back.”
He helped her up, and after she was lying down, he hooked his arms under her knees and pulled her forward, until her bottom was off the edge and being supported by him. Knees shaking with anticipation, he draped her legs over his shoulders, lifting her rear. The head of his leaking cock was pointed at the dewy mound he couldn’t wait to bury himself inside.
Inching in slowly, his gasp joined hers. If any woman had felt so fine hugging his cock, he couldn’t remember it. Her velvet heat encased him like a glove made for him. He sank into her slowly, watching in fascination as his length disappeared. When he was fully seated he basked in the sensation, until she bucked her hips and arched her back.
“Oh, God. Fuck me, Aric,” she demanded. “Fuck me like you mean it!”
That’s all it took to break his control. Withdrawing slowly, he then slammed home, shaking the table and causing his lover to cry out in bliss. He pulled out faster, slammed in. Out and in, and soon he was plunging into her pussy like a piston, reaching the point of no return faster than he wanted.
But it was good. So fucking good, he couldn’t stop the come that shot from his balls as he shouted, filling her up. Spasming again and again, riding the waves of her climax as well as his own. Her head tossed from side to side, fingernails digging into the green surface of the blackjack table. When the last of the waves subsided and she went limp, he carefully withdrew and offered her a hand to sit up.
“You were amazing,” he praised, kissing her lips.
“Not too shabby yourself.” She flicked his bottom lip with her tongue. “Too bad it wasn’t real.”
Her words sent an unexpected blade into his heart. “What?”
“Dream,” she reminded him. “Not real.”
“Sure felt real to me.” He didn’t miss the bereft note in his voice, but hoped she hadn’t noticed.
Turning away, he saw that the rest of the casino had vanished. Blinking, he spun back to Rowan—but she wasn’t there anymore, either. Shit!
“Rowan? Hey!”
Confused, he started to run… and stepped off into empty air.
Fell.
And jolted awake, safe in his own bed. Pulse thrumming in his throat, he glanced around, seeing that nothing had changed. His bedroom. His things.
“God, it did seem real.”
His body certainly thought it was, too. A glance at his lap and the sheet confirmed they were drenched in come, his erection still at half-mast. Some dream. Only, what if it wasn’t?
Running a hand down his sweaty face, he became aware of how very hot it was in the room. Or maybe the room was fine and he was the one overheated, after the mind-blowing encounter he’d just had. Whichever, the temperature was unbearable, so he got up and ran a cold shower.
He washed, and stood under the spray until he no longer felt like he was about to spontaneously combust, then got out and dried off. Better. But was his face still a little warm? He couldn’t tell, and was too tired to think about the dream or anything else right now. But he had to change the sheets.
Stumbling to the bed, he stripped off the dirty bedding, balled it up, and tossed it into a corner. He stared at the mattress, bare except for the fitted pad, and decided he just couldn’t be bothered to deal with making it up. Later.
He took only a couple of seconds to yank on a clean pair of boxers and flopped across the bed.
This time, when he slept, it was deep and dark.
And dreamless.
Seven
Rowan awoke from her nap gradually, her body still humming from the awesome dream she’d had, with Aric in the starring role.
Tentatively, she touched between her legs and even found herself moist with her own come. When in the hell had she ever had such a vivid dream of sex with a man? Never. Hadn’t known it was possible, not to that degree of detail.
She could still smell him on her skin, musky and male. She envisioned exactly how he’d pierced her with those striking green eyes as he’d eaten her out, and the satisfaction on his face as he’d fucked her into next week, that glorious auburn hair falling over his chest and the swirling tattoo.
As she’d told him, too bad it wasn’t real.
Surely it wasn’t. She was no Dreamwalker, at least not one of much talent if she couldn’t find her brother and reach out to him in his mental prison. If she couldn’t help anyone, what good was a gift? Better to stick with what she knew and could see. Guns and bullets, flesh and blood. And yes, monsters of all kinds. What was tangible could be dealt with.