There was nothing gentle about it. Just rough, wild passion. Pleasure so all-consuming, I came before I knew and then came again, orgasming over and over. I felt like I was falling as I came. I gripped the sheets harder, scared to lose myself as he pumped hard into me.
So rough, it was like he couldn’t help but take what he wanted. Like he was drunk off ecstasy. Intoxicated. The weight of him on me, his stomach against my pussy and his mouth on my breast, was overwhelming. He sucked my nipple into his mouth, and my back nearly slipped off the bed following the sensation. I’d never felt anything like this before, and my body arched to get closer to the hot passion.
He released my nipple with a pop, and I cried out at the loss.
He roared. “Mine!”
“Yours.” I grabbed his hair, gripping those silky dark locks between my fingers. I tightened them as he returned to my nipple, sucking it into his mouth again. He licked me, then bit a little. The sensation forced me to take in a sharp breath, and I moaned his name. His mouth tortured me, going back and forth between breasts, making sure each had equal attention.
“Mine,” he whispered, and I didn’t know if he was talking to me, to himself, or to the time running out of the broken clock. “Simone...”
“Yes, baby.”
“Simone?”
“Yes, baby, just don’t stop fucking me. I’m yours, baby. I’m yours.”
“Simone, wake up.”
I froze and opened my eyes, waking out of the hot dream.
Holy shit. That wasn’t real!!
I was in Gio’s bedroom, but it wasn’t nighttime. It was light with more shadows, suggesting the sun would be close to setting. The windows were shut tight as it snowed outside, and there was no clock on his nightstand, not like the one in the dream. No clock with broken numbers. No blue silk sheets rippling like a pond.
Are you fucking kidding me!
Gio was not naked and moving on top of me. Instead, he sat in the chair across from me with a wicked expression on his face. He gripped his cock from outside his jeans and licked his lips.
My breathing shifted to panic as I looked down at myself in the bed. Sometime during my dream, I’d kicked off the fur blankets. They lay on the edge of the bed.
My clothes were still on, but I’d dove my hand down my pants. My wet fingers lay against my moist pussy and soaked panties. Embarrassed, I pulled them away.
He ran his fingers through his hair and rose. His jeans tented, showing off a serious erection. “We...fell asleep. You first and when I dressed, I figured it wouldn’t hurt for me to catch some rest too.”
“Yeah.” I sat up, grabbed the blankets, and covered myself as if I were naked instead of extremely embarrassed out of my mind.
“So...” He walked toward the door, adjusted his cock over his pants, and rubbed his face with both hands. “So...we should get ready for dinner. I mean...dinner is in twenty minutes. If you want to freshen up or take care of anything.”
Translation: maybe you want to change those wet panties before coming to the table. Jesus. Did I really have to have a wet dream in front of him?
All I could manage was, “Yes, I’ll do that.”
He opened the door and tossed me a wicked grin. “And then maybe...one day.”
He stared at me for several seconds, dragging his gaze along the fur blankets that covered me. “And then maybe one day, we can talk about that dream.”
I blushed as he left.
It took me several minutes to get it together. I struggled with not masturbating really quickly. That dream had triggered a deep hunger in my body. When I was dreaming, I’d been overwhelmed by it. Even as I woke up, that craving should’ve rushed away, but it hadn’t. Instead, it swarmed flames of hot desire all over me, burning my skin, swelling my heart, and aching deep within my sex.
Even though I’d bathed earlier, I took a cold shower to calm myself. I couldn’t get the image of Gio fucking me out of my mind and even worse, I couldn’t stop thinking of how hard Gio was when I woke up. His erection raised the tension in the room. I had nothing to say. He had nothing to offer. It almost felt like he’d rushed out of there because he was so hard, not ready to deal with the desire as much as me.
Shit. I can’t believe he saw me playing with myself while I was asleep. But how much did he hear? Did he hear me begging him to fuck me? Shit.
As the cold water poured down my skin, I thought back to one of our past phone conversations and blushed.
“When you write a song about sex,” he’d said over the line, “the woman is always begging.”