My words die as he grabs me by my nape and invades my mouth. And I don’t mean a simple kiss. This time, he’s really devouring me.
It’s like he’s starving and I’m dinner. He’s on a stranded island and I’m his survival.
A moan rips from me as his body moulds to mine. The friction of his hard chest against my breasts and thighs elicits a violent shiver. My nipples tighten and strain against my camisole. A tremor grips me and my hands shake as I dig my fingers into his back – his strong, sculpted back.
It’s as if my hands don’t believe what’s happening. How do people normally react when their deepest, darkest fantasies come true?
If I had known, I would’ve probably done something about it. But right now, I just let myself fall into it, free fall and all.
Hard and fast.
With no landing in sight.
“Fuck,” he growls near my mouth. “Why do you taste better than in other dreams?”
“W-what?”
“Shh, don’t talk. If you do, I’ll wake up.” His fingers curl at the hem of my T-shirt and bring it over my head.
My chest heaves as his eyes trail down my body, the stretch marks and the not-so-flat stomach. It’s nothing like the model figures he’s used to. I despise comparing myself to them, but I can’t help it.
He’s my best fantasy, and it hurts to be his worst.
“You used to be more beautiful.” He runs his hand down my stomach. “I hate the fake you, she’s not my Green.”
And then he’s kissing down my stomach, over every stretch mark and every blemish, over every curve and part of me I don’t even like to look at myself.
His hot lips leave scorching trails in their wake like a rapid burning fire.
“Don’t change.” Kiss. “Don’t be fake.” Kiss. “Be you.” Kiss. “Be my beautiful Green.”
A sob tears from my throat with every word out of his mouth and breathed against my skin. I cover my eyes, not wanting him to see me this way.
What the hell is he doing to me?
“Look at me.” The order in his voice makes me drop my hands slowly.
He’s hovering over me again, his hands disappearing underneath my back to unclasp my bra.
The deep blue of his eyes holds me hostage as he speaks in a low, gut-wrenching tone. “Always look at me, not away from me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Even if I hate you and you hate me.”
“Okay.”
“Even if we wake up from this.”
“Okay.” My voice breaks at the end.
With a single tug, he removes the bra and lets it fall to the side. My nipples harden, tightening into tiny buds, but it’s not because of the air. It’s due to the hungry look on his lethally attractive face.
He’s not even touching them, but it’s almost as if he is.
“Your tits are so perky and small.” His strong fingers wrap around my breast. “So perfect in my hand. I knew it.”
Still cupping my breast, his thumb and forefinger grasp my nipple and tug. I cry out, my heart squeezing in my throat.
He does it again, this time twirling, then pinching hard afterwards. The friction of his bandage against my skin adds another pleasurable sensation that shoots straight between my legs, soaking my thighs.
“Do you know how much I’ve wanted to do this? How much I’ve wanted you like this and hated myself for it? How much it fucking kills me?” As he continues to torment my nipple, his mouth latches on the other one, biting and nibbling.
My back arches off the bed with the torture. It’s as if I’m being levitated. My body isn’t mine anymore as it floats in the air without any landing in the foreseeable future.
His free hand travels down between us and undoes the buttons of my denim skirt. I don’t think as I push it down.
“Stop,” he growls against my flesh. “This is my show, my rules.”
Damn him. I’m not even allowed to do anything on my first sexual experience. But then again, why am I surprised Xander is the bossy type?
If anything, I might have secretly hoped for it. I might secretly be a bit more wet by his words.
He shoves my skirt and underwear down in one merciless tug as he pushes off me and slides down my body.
The empty air makes my breasts feel abandoned, but the look in his eyes as he watches me splayed in front of him is worth it.
He reaches behind him and pulls his T-shirt over his head, revealing his sculpted abs. It’s not about being fit or muscular, it’s the charisma that he adds to it, the certain carelessness of being so deadly and mouth-watering.
Xander is the epitome of male beauty – tall, blond, hard, slightly tanned.
Kneeling at the foot of the bed, he stares straight at my pussy and I instinctively close my thighs.
“Nuh-uh.” He shakes his head, a disapproving glare on his face. “Open them wide.”
“But I can’t.”
“Yes, you can and you want to.”
“But –”
“You don’t want to?”
I bite my lower lip.
“Answer me, Green.”
I can do more than answer him when he calls me that. I can fly to the moon and carve my name in the stars like he once brought me a star – that I might still be hiding.
That name means he’s still my shield in the world and I’m still his.
I can do everything with that name.
I’m invincible with that name.
Slowly, I open my legs, facing away from him.
“What did I say about looking at me?”
I snap my attention to his and my breathing hitches. The approval in his gaze makes me want to purr like some kitten.
He inhales the air. “You’re soaked for me. I can smell it.”
God, can’t he just not have commentary. It’s turning the heat up a notch, and I don’t think I can handle it.
“Your cunt shouldn’t be soaked for me.”
“What?”
“It shouldn’t be, yet it is. Are you aroused because I ordered you, Green?”
Yes, I think so.
“Don’t answer,” he grunts. “I don’t want it to be real.”
Real?
Before I can formulate a response, he grips me by the ankles and places them over his broad shoulders, then dives in.
“Hello, sin.” The first sweep of his tongue on my folds is like straight-up torture device, the good kind, the mind-boggling kind.
He does it again, as if tasting me, savouring me, committing me to memory.
I writhe on the mattress, my hands gripping the sheet in a deadly clutch.
“You’ll kill me, Green, and I’m ready for death.” The rumble of his voice against my most intimate part makes me delirious.
He thrusts his tongue inside and I’m gone for. A strange sensation whirls through me with an alarming power. My back arches off the bed with the force of stimulation and I just fall.
I do it so easily, so gracefully, and without any restraints. While I’ve brought myself to orgasms before, none of them were this strong or ruining.
I don’t think I’ll ever feel the same after this. It’s like Xander reached inside me and flipped a switch, and now, there’s no going back.
Now, every time I think about sex, I’ll think of how he worshipped my scars, how he kissed my imperfections and called them beautiful, and how he ordered me to open my legs, just so he could worship me in a whole different way.
That brings tears to my eyes. The thought that I’ll be thinking about them while he’s not here turns me into an emotional fool.
I’m such a mess. This isn’t the moment to be crying.
“Hey.” He climbs up to crawl beside me and he does something I never thought Xander would ever do again.
He hugs me, his arm lying on the small of my back while our bodies mould together.
His thumb traces over my skin, wiping the tears. “You’re not supposed to be crying.”
“And you’re not supposed to be better than the fantasy.”
“I am, huh?” He flashes me his dimples.
“Don’t be so arrogant.”
“Arrogant is my middle name, Green. Did you forget?”
“How could I?” I return his smile, still unable to believe the fact he’s calling me Green again. That he’s holding me, wiping my tears.
If this is a dream, please end now. Don’t torture me any longer.
As an answer to my prayer, Xander brushes his nose against mine, just like when we were kids. “Maybe I should burn.”
“Burn?”
“Yeah.” His eyes close. “Because you’re worth being burned for.”
And with that, his breathing evens out. I lay my head on his shoulder and resist sleep with all my might.
I’m just going to watch him all night.
Maybe then, the dream won’t end.
Maybe then, we’ll be trapped in this moment of eternal bliss where there’s no fog and no external world.
Or that’s what I plan.
But the second he absentmindedly strokes my hair, I fall into the deepest sleep I’ve had in years.
Xander
There are moments where you know something is wrong, but you still do it anyway.
Moments where you stop and think, no, I shouldn’t do this, but you forge with it anyway.
It’s like that in my subconscious. My erotic, porn-fest subconscious.
My dreams should level up to this state from now on. Soft hands wrap around the bulge in my jeans and I grunt out a moan.
When my eyes open, there she is. The dream is still there, right in front of me.