Fantasies R Us, page 8
“What the hell is this?”
Four faces lifted at her from the folds of the bedcovers. One blinked sleepily up at her. Another went into a sneezing fit. The one still on his hands and knees in the center of the bed grinned dopily at her, pussy juice dripping from his chin while a scowling fellow crumpled up against a bedpost grumbled something about always getting stuck with the toes before announcing, “We’re here for your fairytale fantasy, lady.”
She glanced at the goofy one still grinning wetly up at her from the center of the bed, to the sleepy-eyed one nearest her right breast and back to the grumpy one. “Who are you guys?”
“The Five Fucking Dwarfs,” muttered the disgruntled fellow righting himself with the aid of the bedpost. “You should know. You ordered us.”
She gaped at the surly little man. He couldn’t be more than two feet tall. And he didn’t look the sort to suck toes for sexual pleasure. He looked much too dignified.
“I did not order five dwarfs, fucking or otherwise.”
The scowling man planted his hands on his hips. “Well, we don’t do this just for the fun of it.”
She eyed the grinning goofy one. “It seems some of you do.”
The grumbler harrumphed. “Apparently there’s been a mistake here.”
“You bet your little asses there has been,” she said, though her pique was fading. She’d used words like ass and fuck. That wasn’t the kind of language she usually used.
But then, neither was this the kind of fantasy for which she’d paid her hard-earned money. She’d asked for Prince Charming. She’d had Prince Charming…in this bed…doing what the little dopey one had been doing. Tears gathered in her eyes and she sniffed. “I want my prince back.”
The door opened and Prince Charming planted his feet in the room like a conquering hero, his poet’s shirt billowing back like a crusader’s cape and his gaze sweeping each and every one of the Five Fucking Dwarfs.
“Out,” he commanded.
The grumpy one grumbled and herded the other dwarfs off the bed. All except the shy one who still hid behind her hair.
Jayne gently tugged her hair from his tiny fists. He gaped up at her with huge, round eyes.
“You better go, too,” she said softly.
He blushed madly and scooted off her pillow and over the side of the bed, catching up to his four cohorts just as the sniffling one sneezed on Prince Charming’s leg. The prince scowled, though she detected an amused twitch to his scowl.
She knew she had when he lifted his gaze back to her and sunshine rather than storm clouds flickered in the sky-blue eyes. He also winked.
Behind him, the dopey one grinned, winked and closed the door.
“Sorry about that,” the prince said, nodding over his shoulder at the closed door beyond which a chorus of melodic whistles lifted.
“Why? You didn’t bring them in here.”
“But I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
The whistles faded off. He strode around the bed and hitched himself up onto its edge facing her. Hip-to-hip, he angled an arm across her, braced it to the mattress next to her far hip, and reached up and stroked the back of his forefinger across her cheek. When he got to the corner of her mouth, she turned her head and kissed his knuckle.
He smiled. “I hope you weren’t terribly traumatized.”
“More like startled.”
“How about I promise to never leave you alone again?”
Jayne’s heart skipped a beat. If only it could be true.
But it could be…at least for the duration of her fantasy.
Willing reality away, she leaned into his caress. The rope mattress supports creaked as he shifted closer and she lifted her mouth for the kiss she knew he’d give her.
Lip brushed lip. Tongue touched tongue. Sigh mingled with sigh.
He tugged the sheet from her fingers. She protested. “It’s broad daylight.”
“All the better to see you by, my pretty,” he said with a wolfish growl.
“There’s something familiar about those words,” Jayne said dubiously, though she tingled with anticipation. “Tell me we’re not going to play Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf.”
He wagged his eyebrows at her. “The Big Bad Wolf did want to eat Red Riding Hood.”
“That he did,” she returned with mock cynicism.
He gave a little growl, leaned in and nipped her belly. She yelped…but arched for him when he pulled back. He grinned and kicked off his boots, stripped off his pants, shucked his shirt and bounded onto his knees between her legs.
“My, what a big dick you have, Granny,” she said of the magnificent shaft bobbing in the daylight before her, referencing another of the classic Little Red Riding Hood fairytale’s characters.
“All the better to fuck you with, my dear,” he growled, lifting her away from the headboard of the bed and impaling her on his rigid cock.
“Oh…my,” she gasped, her legs curling around his hips and her hands gripping his shoulders. Though she wasn’t sure she clung to him for fear if she let go that huge organ of his would split her in half or because she wanted to stay impaled on him forever.
“You are very juicy, my lady.”
She shuddered against the hot breath blowing on her neck and the hotter cock throbbing in her cunt.
“The dwarves prepared you well.”
She stiffened and peered at him. “I didn’t know it was them.”
“It’s okay,” he said.
“I thought it was you.”
“Shhh,” he urged, cradling her close and gazing into her eyes. “It’s okay that another could make you this hot and wet.”
“I was thinking of you the whole time.”
He cocked his head, a curious pucker bunched between his eyes, and his words came out measured. “I am flattered, my lady. Truly.”
What was it she was seeing in those eyes? Deliberation? Conflict? Confusion? But from a cyborg?
“Is there something wrong?” she asked, loosening her grip on him.
His forehead smoothed. “I am just contemplating how next to satisfy you.”
“But—”
He shifted between her legs, sending a jolt of desire through her. Reflexively, her vaginal walls clenched around his cock and she forgot all about his odd expression.
“Aah, Jayne, you are an eager student.”
“I’m a horny recently deflowered virgin,” she said, grinning.
He sat back on his heels, deepening his penetration. She stretched around him, taking him as deep as she could.
His hands cupped her behind and he rotated his hips, making his cock move against her slick walls. Aaah, blessed friction.
He lifted her so she rose and dropped over his circling cock. Long, slow strokes that stoked the fire already burning inside her. Her fingers stretched across his back and she buried her face in the curve of his neck. The fire built, fanning out through her, devouring her, sending her someplace that existed only of the senses. The friction against her vaginal walls, the musk of their mingling juices, their throaty grunts and titillating moans, the salty taste of his skin.
She lifted her head and saw what she could not in the dark. The sheen of his efforts glistening on his bronze shoulders, the euphoria of arousal etching his face and the determined seduction smoking from the eyes. He bowed his head to her breast, caught her nipple between his teeth and drew on it with such force she felt it clear to her clit. Then he stroked his cock hard across her G-spot.
She came in hard, convulsive spasms that tore through her making her toes curl and her fingers dig into his flesh. Seconds later, he threw his head back leaving her nipple stinging with in the cold air. He bucked one last time inside her and his hot semen pelted her cervix. For as long as she lived, she would not forget how his mouth shaped a silent howl at the moment of release, how the cords in his neck strained with the efforts of his control nor the ruddy stain of post-orgasmic blood rushing to the surface of his skin.
Chapter Seven
“I think we need another bath for two,” she said as she lay in her prince’s arms relishing the afterglow of their lovemaking. Snuggled against his side safe and cozy, she didn’t care that she was naked, uncovered and illuminated by the sunlight seeping in around the window tapestries. Besides, with the covers thrown back, he was exposed too and she liked looking at him.
“Considering what happened the last time we bathed together, I don’t think a bath is what you have in mind, my lady,” he said sleepily, eyes shut.
Her head pillowed against his shoulder, she stroked his chest and circled an erect nipple with a fingertip. “Would that be so bad?”
He peered at her from beneath one eyelid. “I have created a monster. My lady is insatiable.”
Jayne sighed and hooked a leg over his. “It’s just that we have so little time left.”
His muscles tensed beneath her arm and leg and his breathing hitched. She lifted her head from his shoulder and peered past his jutting jaw and his drawn lips to his tightly closed eyes. He looked as though he was regretting the imminent end of her fantasy as much as she. This from a cyborg.
But he was her cyborg until noon tomorrow. Her fantasy man.
“Tell me you’ll miss me,” she whispered, surprised by the emotion in her voice.
The arm cradling her tightened across her back, hugging her close. His free hand gently pulled her head down against his chest and he pressed his lips to her forehead. “I will miss you, Jayne.”
Jayne. Not my lady.
Her heart swelled. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to fall in love with a cyborg. How pitiful would that be?
Still, she pressed herself the naked length of her prince. He was hers to do with as she pleased for the duration of her contracted fantasy. The trouble was she already knew what she wanted to do was take him home.
Which she couldn’t do. That was the reality.
All she’d have twenty-four hours or so from now would be her memories of one weekend with the perfect, fantasy lover…who she knew only as Prince Charming. She could see herself climbing the orgasmic mountain in her dreams with cries of “Oh yes! Do it for me, Prince Charming!” How warm and fuzzy would that be?
She levered herself up on one elbow, intending to ask him if he had a name other than that royal tag. But a soft snore issued from him. She couldn’t blame him for being tired. He’d been up most of the night, up being the operative word.
She bit back a chuckle, not wanting to wake him. But just how up he’d been to the task of deflowering her flashed through her, each nerve he’d awakened in her prickling with memory of his nips, licks and caresses. She’d really done it—rid herself of her virginity. And he’d done it in royal-style.
Gazing at his chiseled chin, slightly parted lips and thick sable lashes all framed by a tousled blond mane, she couldn’t help but be awed. This gorgeous man had made love to her again and again. He really had.
And he really was a magnificent creature. She surveyed him from head to toe. Just look at those thick thighs, the flat abs and the wondrous shaft between them.
Though it didn’t quite look all that impressive at rest. Not at all as majestic as he’d been in full arousal. At least she thought he was majestic compared to the pictures she’d seen. Except for those murals from ancient Pompeii, the prints from the Far East and the frescos from…
Actually, those had been exaggerations of the erect penis. The fact was she’d never seen a man-sized cock up close and in the flesh before last night…erect or flaccid.
She eyed that appendage that had given her so much pleasure. She’d rather like getting more of a look at it than she had in the firelight.
Carefully, she eased from his side. His breathing remained even—undisturbed. He might be used to being ogled, but she was not a woman used to doing the ogling. She’d rather he slept through her exploration.
Her first discovery surprised her. He had a birthmark on his hip in the shape of a heart. How odd. But she supposed if one were going to give a cyborg that specialized in romantic, sexual fantasies a birthmark it should be heart-shaped. Besides, it was cute as a button.
Still, she couldn’t fathom the necessity of giving an artificial human a mark of any sort. Maybe the birthmark was where they opened them up for maintenance. Or maybe it was a port for recharging or reprogramming. Her fingers itched to touch it. But she was afraid she’d wake him…or feel some mechanism beneath. That would be just plain too icky.
She moved on, her breath ruffling the darker hair feathering down the center of his abdomen, her gaze following the trail of wispy hair to the wiry curls nestling his resting jewels. His cock looked more like a turtle’s crinkled neck than the mighty pillar that had driven her to ecstasy. But she knew how to make it swell. She’d learned that much so far…though mainly by touch. She hadn’t actually seen the process.
She grinned and touched the head of his cock with a fingertip. He twitched as he had when she’d first touched him in front of the cheval glass…just before they’d made love for the first time. Though then he’d already been fully aroused. Not like now when he was at rest and she was making him twitch to life. She smiled and moved closer.
She circled him with a finger and the head of his cock stretched out from its fleshy turtleneck. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from giggling and edged even closer.
She traced the firm edge of the mushrooming head, marveling at the firm yet velvety texture of that head stretching up his belly on its swelling shaft. He twitched beneath her nose. He smelled of their recent sex, of his cum and her juices. An intoxicating, arousing scent.
She leaned over him, parted her lips and sampled his salty, musky flavor.
“Sweet Goddess,” he wailed and Jayne jerked upright.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted, scooting back from him. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”
Propped on his elbows, he began to laugh, making his half-inflated cock bounce against his abdomen.
Cheeks burning with embarrassment, Jayne curled away from him. His laughter faded and the mattress dipped with his shifting weight. Then his hands were on her shoulders, those large, warm, beautiful hands that had played her body like a maestro.
“Jayne,” he said, his voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I was touching you while you slept.”
“I didn’t mind.”
“That’s why you shrieked when I—when I—?”
“Touched your tongue to my cock?”
Her shoulders sagged and she hung her head. He moved close behind her, his chest warm against her shoulder blades, his breath soft on her ear.
“Men like a woman’s tongue on their cock. They like it licking and circling. Men like a woman to take him into their mouth.”
“I know. I’ve read about blowjobs.”
“Read about them, huh?” He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. “Then you must know how much members of my sex like blowjobs.”
“But I didn’t ask if it was okay to do. I startled you.”
“Did I ask your permission before I touched your clit with my tongue?”
“No, but I was awake. I knew what was happening.”
“And still it startled you. Remember?”
Oh, she remembered all right. She squirmed with the memory.
He pulled her back against him and nibbled her ear. “As long as your surprises don’t involve knives around my genitals, you can startle me any time.”
“You have to say that. You’re—” She was going to say a cyborg, but couldn’t make the word come out, so she ended with, “my fantasy lover.”
“And you’re mine,” he murmured against her temple.
He felt so right holding her she wished that was true. But it wasn’t.
He nipped her neck and she gasped.
“Did I startle you, my lady?”
A tiny smile tugged at her lips. “You work so hard to make me feel good.”
“I have to.”
“Huh?” She blinked over her shoulder at him.
He kissed her on the slope of her shoulder where he’d nipped her, his eyes capturing her gaze, holding it. “Because you work hard at finding fault with yourself.”
She did waste precious time fretting over what was real and what was not.
“You’re right,” she said, relaxing back into his embrace. She may not be perfect in reality, but she had herself a fantasy lover who looked at her as though she was. “Enough of that negativism.”
“That’s my amazing Jayne.”
He sounded so sincere, so proud, she almost succeeded in keeping herself from lapsing into her plain-Jane attitude. At least she managed to keep it to no more than a fleeting thought, something his tongue tracing circles where her neck curved to her shoulder helped.
“I want you to say my name,” he said.
“And which would that be? Prince or Charming? I have to admit, Prince reminds me of a pet dog and Charming seems arrogant and I don’t like my men arrogant. Or maybe you want me to say whole thing, in which case I must say, Prince Charming is a mouthful.”
“Excuse me?”
She peered over her shoulder at him. “Please tell my you’re not just identified as a model number. I really don’t want to know it if it’s just a number.”
He gave her the oddest look of confusion before answering. “Michael.”
“Huh?”
“My name is Michael.”
Settling crossways on his lap and looping her arms around his neck, she studied his handsome face for just which Michael model he would be. Nobody new, that was for sure. Michael was an old name, one more popular in the twentieth century than the twenty-first.
“Michael, Michael.” She tested his name on her tongue, pondering which identity that name gave him.
His smile was the sort that warmed a soul for bringing him pleasure and, at the same time, glinted with the suggestion of all the pleasures he could give a body. And he surely had given her a thorough fucking. If she died one millisecond before the end of her fantasy, she’d die happy. Maybe he would even be her reward in the afterlife. How heavenly would that be?
