She knelt in front of him. His heart double-kicked in his chest. His throat pinched off his air supply. Instead of choking, she became his oxygen, his breath, his absolute.
Fuck, no. Fuck. She couldn’t be going to… Her breath fanned across his skin. Warm, then cool, warm, cool. Her gaze flicked up to him, and she lowered her mouth to him.
He watched her devour his dick. Lost the ability to think. Could only feel. Hot. Wet. Pressure. Sensory overload. Raw sensation licked him from the inside out. He felt flayed open, flaming, and she was the soothing breeze blowing across his burn.
She cupped his balls. The pleasure, yet the pain of trying to control himself—a masochistic mixture. The beginning of his finale surged. Too soon.
“Stop. You’ve got to stop or…” The words died when she slid her tongue down the base of his dick, then back up in one long, sleek stroke. Ecstasy and torture. She took the head into her mouth and sucked gently. Every ounce of energy in his body—the spark that kept his heart beating, that kept his breath pumping in and out—converged in his dick, then expanded and multiplied until he was energy. He was life. He was the orgasm that began to crash over him.
He pushed away from her. Couldn’t come in her mouth without her permission—couldn’t do that to her. He came in great, heavy spurts, cupping the mess in his hand.
When he finished, he hung his head and stared down at himself. At his fist still wrapped around his dick, at his hand covered in come.
Holy fucking Christ. He’d basically cranked one off in front of her. This was supposed to be about her. About giving to her, instead of taking. About being a better man than any of the assholes she’d ever been with.
She ran her hand over his arm, trying to get his attention, but he couldn’t look at her with shame in his eyes.
“I didn’t want it to be that way for you.” He went into the bathroom, shut the door. He washed the come from his hands and dick. After he dried himself, he stared in the mirror at a face he didn’t recognize—his own. It was his face of course, but something had changed, shifted, transformed inside him and he no longer felt like the man in the mirror.
Underneath his feet, he felt the slight pressure of her walking across the hall, stopping. He opened the door to her.
“I wanted it that way. I thought it was hot watching you…”
Her words were a forgiveness and a permission he couldn’t resist.
He was on her. His mouth on her neck, kissing, licking, tasting. His arms banded around her back, his hands gripped her buttocks, pulling her up into him, grinding his erection into her stomach. Flesh to flesh. Everywhere.
Somehow, he got them to the bed.
His mouth found hers. Their tongues dancing together the way their bodies would. Male instinct took hold, overwhelming him with a need. One he couldn’t control.
He moved over her, covering her body with his. It was so right, the way they fit. He stared into her eyes—saw his own desire mirrored there, but still asked the question, “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” She reached between them, her cool hand wrapping around him and guiding him to her.
Timeless pressure built inside him. He pushed into her.
So hot. She was fire. And tight. Deeper he pressed, until she’d taken all of him.
Flesh recognized flesh, reacquainted, melded, and moved to the cadence of their combination as if they’d been together throughout a millennium. Every molecule of him became strangely alive. His skin tingled as if a brisk wind rushed over him. He could feel his hair, each strand magnetized, strangely alive. His fingernails, his toenails… Holy Jesus, it was like he could actually feel them growing. Inside his body, his bones grew harder, stronger. He felt powerful. Invincible. Truly alive.
“Do you feel that?” He heard his own voice. No static. No distortion. He could fucking hear. How? Why? Didn’t matter. He could and there was only one thing he wanted to hear—her voice.
“My God. Yes.” Her words were a throaty sigh that sang along his nerve endings.
“Say my name. Quick.”
“Lathan.” His name dawned on her lips, a glorious sunrise to his ears.
He closed his eyes. “Again.”
“Lathan. Lathan. Lathan.”
“I can hear you.” His voice caught. Almost sounded like a sob, but it wasn’t. No way was he going to cry like a fucking baby.
“Lathan.” She gasped his name. It was the sexiest sound he’d ever heard, the sound of her on the edge of pleasure. She grabbed his face between her hands and stared into his eyes as he continued to move inside her. “You hear me? Really hear me.”
“Yes.” He rocked against her, deepening, lengthening his stroke, giving her all of him. Every piece of him.
They came together with her wrapping her legs around his waist, her body contracting and clenching around his dick. The orgasm slammed into him like a boulder in a still pool of water, radiating out through him in ripples of intense pleasure. He felt reshaped, remolded into something different and new and untested. Something greater.
Chapter 11
Eternal whiteness expanded outward in every direction. Silence was sovereign, supreme, and sharp as a scalpel. She remembered what had happened last time when she made a sound. This time she’d keep her lips clamped shut. No one could say she wasn’t a fast learner.
Knowing she should remain quiet made her want to call out to Lathan. Could she yell loud enough for him to hear her, to wake her up? Surely not. Dr. Stone said she was in a different dimension when she had one of these dreams—a dimension reality couldn’t find. Even if she could yell across dimensions, Lathan wouldn’t be able to hear—unless they were having sex. That was something neither of them knew how to categorize.
Evil was behind her. She felt its malicious energy changing the air, charging it with apprehension, making it heavy and thick and resistant when she tried to suck it into her lungs. Her arms and hands quivered. Her insides fluttered. Muscles twitched in her eyes. Fear settled on her back, riding her like an invisible demon.