About a Vampire

“A wet dream,” she muttered, turning on the tap to splash her face. It probably wasn’t her first wet dream, but it was the first she recalled . . . and it had been incredibly . . . well . . . incredible. It had also been about Justin Bricker, she thought grimly. There was something wrong with that. She even felt briefly guilty about it. But it was just a dream, she told herself. Her subconscious was obviously working through something, although she didn’t know what the heck it was working through. Maybe she was a lot more attracted to him than she’d realized. Or maybe rather than having to do with her own feelings, it was about his fixating on her. Whatever the case, it was just a dream. It wasn’t like she’d cheated on her husband.

Sighing, Holly turned off the water and dried her face on a hand towel, meeting her guilty gaze in the mirror as she did.

“Really,” she said suddenly, lowering the towel. “Having sex with another man in a dream is not cheating on your husband. It was a dream. You aren’t in control of your dreams. Besides, James doesn’t know you had it, and Justin doesn’t know. It’s all good. Just relax and go back to sleep.”

Folding the hand towel once, she set it back on its holder, turned out the bathroom light and headed back to bed. She would have liked to claim that she was hoping that was the last of her dreams for the night, but suspected that wouldn’t be true. It had been incredible, the best orgasm she’d ever had. How pathetic was it that the best orgasm of her life was one she’d had in a dream?

“Sex with him probably wouldn’t have been as good in real life,” Holly assured herself as she crossed the dark bedroom back to bed. “It’s just that you’re less inhibited in your dreams. Wilder.”

That was definitely true, she acknowledged. Holly always refused to be on top with James. She was afraid she wouldn’t do it right, wouldn’t be able to keep the rhythm or something. And he never pushed the issue.

“You love James,” Holly reassured herself as she climbed onto the bed and pulled the covers up. “Orgasms aren’t the be-all and end-all of life.”

Turning onto her side, she slid a hand under her pillow and closed her eyes, telling herself, “Everything is fine.”





Twelve


Justin finished cleaning up, started out of the bathroom and then paused to grab a towel to take with him. Better to be safe than sorry, he thought, as he crossed back to the bed. It was only a little after midnight and he doubted that would be the last of the shared sex dreams they’d have that night. Certainly, he was eager for more after that first one. Even waking up to find he’d had an orgasm in his sleep and made a mess of his boxers wasn’t enough to dampen his enthusiasm.

Holly had been a revelation. Honestly, she was so straitlaced in reality that he’d expected her to be the same in bed, at least at first. Instead, she’d taken control, tossed him on his back and ridden him like a pro . . . after scratching the hell out of his back. He actually felt tender there even awake, as if she’d really scratched him, though there had been no welts or redness when he’d checked in the bathroom mirror. But then his whole body had been quivering and shaky as he’d made his way to the bathroom a -couple minutes ago, as if they’d really had sex and it hadn’t just been a shared dream. Justin supposed his muscles must have been clenching in real life in response to the dream.

And what a dream! It had been pretty short and sweet compared to the marathon bang--a--thons he’d been into of late in reality. While he’d been an eager beaver when he was young, getting to the main course of the meal as quickly as he could, he’d found after a while that that was boring and begun trying other things. Just lately his deal had been to prolong it as long as possible, drawing out the foreplay and extending the pleasure for himself and his partner for as long as he could. That hadn’t been possible with Holly. He couldn’t take control of her and keep her from touching him. And she was strong too, much stronger than a mortal. Justin was stronger still, but she’d taken him by surprise with her moves and he hadn’t known what hit him when he suddenly found himself on his back with her on top. After that it was Game. Set. Match. And he was toast. All he’d been able to do was ride the wave with her to Nirvana. And it hadn’t even been true life mate sex, where the pleasure, instead of the dream, was shared, multiplying their mutual pleasure to unbearable levels. That was enough to knock immortals out cold. He couldn’t wait to experience it, but in the meantime, this would do . . . especially since, dream or not, it was his name Holly had screamed as she’d found her pleasure.

That was the last thing Justin had heard before waking up, his name on her lips . . . and it had been sweet. He wanted to hear it again. He wanted to hear her begging for him to enter her, wanted her to sob his name with need, and now that he’d experienced his first shared dream with her, Justin was pretty sure he could have it. He was going right back to sleep to find her again, and this time, he was going to take control. He was going to strip her, lay her out, feast on her and when he had her trembling and weeping with need, he would pound into her, giving them both the release they wanted.

That thought firmly in mind, Justin closed his eyes to go to sleep. It seemed like he’d barely done so when he found himself in a dark crowded room with blinking lights and loud music thundering all around him.

Lynsay Sands's books