The Dream Crafter (24 page)

“Yeah,” she said, half-giggling that she brought the most feared mercenary to this.

“Think this is funny, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I am getting even. Just,” and he stopped, taking in a deep breath, “give me a minute.”

She passed up the opportunity to tease any further, a lightness in her body making her simply curl up tighter. “Maybe tomorrow. Right now I want you to hold me.”

Strong, tattooed arms came around her, tightening her to him. “Still getting you back eventually.”

“I look forward to it.”

‡

M
erc was behind
her, his arm slung over her waist and his nose nuzzled into her neck, while Amana looked at the painting in the light of the early morning.

After all the pain he took to keep her awake, now she was doing it herself. Insomnia was an old friend, and she wrapped herself into the familiar weariness.

She couldn’t stay awake forever, but now she had her own reasons to fear sleep. Her doppelganger was waiting for her, waiting for a moment to come out of the shadows and strike. Amana had opened a doorway, and now she was paying the price.

The man behind her stirred, nuzzled into her, and his dick was going from half hard to full attention. “What are you doing?” His voice was raspy, sleep-soaked and rich enough to eat.

“Looking at the painting in the early morning,” she replied, quiet and content here even with the worries on her mind, pretending this was a morning like she had once dreamed of. “You made a nice choice with that one. I like it.”

He shuffled behind her, ducking his head. “I painted that.” His voice was infinitely quieter than it had been a moment ago, though the rasp remained, and the feel of it settled into her bones.

Then her mind caught up to what he said. “You painted it?”

A nod was his response, and awe settled through her at how accomplished he was, that such a rough man could create something so fantastic and delicate. “It’s stunning.”

“It’s not.”

“I’ve seen the ocean at dawn, a blazing sky over endless blue. I’ve seen fields of flowers so vivid they’re still burned into my retinas. I’ve seen the lushest, greenest foliage around falling waterfalls. I know what beauty is, and that picture? Is stunning.”

He snorted, raising his head now, but he said no more about it.

He was fully hard behind her, and she needed more – more than what she had last night, more than what she’d been allowed for such a long time. Turning in his arms, she pushed him to his back and climbed astride. She’d had all night for her fantasies to grow, all night with him pressed against her and the memory of his moans and his taste to keep her on edge, and she needed nothing else to get herself ready for him. Raising up, she reached down and grabbed his cock, rubbing it against her before she lined herself up and sunk down, seating herself fully on him.

His eyes were wide, his breathing hard, and as he filled her balls deep, a groan echoed the room.

She rested her hands on his chest and he wrapped his hands around the outside, keeping her tight to him.

She shifted, getting used to him inside her. He was perfect, filling her full but not uncomfortable. Soon her strokes became longer, pulling up until he was almost free before settling back down on him, long strokes that had him begging, lost little sounds escaping from his lips.

Finally he came, and he was spent. “You didn’t come?” His voice held a vague anger, though nothing showed on his face.

She hadn’t wanted to fake it with him. “I rarely do,” she said, patting his chest.

His eyes were intent, and her heartbeat kicked up, pulsing in her neck. He flipped her on her back, his gaze never breaking from hers.

His thumbs made small circles on her nipples, his eyes never leaving her face. The sparks crashing through her body had her hips jerking to the movements.

And now his mouth came down, circling the nipples, playing with different tempos and pressure until he found one that had her crying out.

He was in front of her pussy and he was spreading her out, looking at her. A fierce heat covered her face, and she reached down, “Don’t.”

He paid her no mind. Instead, he dove in, his tongue swiping over her, fucking inside her and eating out the combined taste of her and him.

A heat grew within her, a tension she never felt, and she flexed her hips away but he held her still, his tongue swirling over her clit as his fingers worked inside her.

She was babbling, strange sounds escaping her mouth as the tension filled her body, ratcheting up and up, and he didn’t leave her, he didn’t let her escape, didn’t let her cries or hands or hips dissuade him from his objective. There was only his mouth and that wonderful tongue, reaching unknown places and causing feelings she’d never experienced with anyone else.

Everything went tight, tight, tight, and then she exploded, her body jerking high and every cell seizing within her, electricity racing through nerves and blood and bone, and pleasure like she’d never known filled every empty spot, overheating her.

Small jerks of her body, and petting her hip, and time meant nothing, and opening heavy lids, Merc became clear, kissing her stomach and moving rough, calloused fingertips over her.

“There you are,” he said, and her gaze met his, the heat of his gaze, the satisfaction, the want all for her.

*

She was stunning
in her pleasure, her body sweet and alive and fucking gorgeous as she came, tightening around him like a vise.

Once again, he banked down the anger that threatened to overwhelm him. She wouldn’t understand why the thought of her being resigned to not feeling any pleasure would piss him off. He didn’t want her to take it like she was somehow in the wrong.

Her breathing was beginning to regulate, and he kissed her stomach again, the sweat on her skin mingling with their combined taste in his mouth.

She was beginning to calm down. Time to wind her up and start all over.

He spread her wide, hooking her legs over his arms, spearing her with his cock.

He pushed into her hard and fast, against that spot that had her arching and gasping against him. Tucking one leg around his hip, he slid his hand between their bodies and rubbed against her clit while inside he rubbed against her.

Her head fell back and she screamed, and her whole body went vise tight around him, the single greatest sensation his dick had ever known. He pushed into her once, twice, three times to come inside her again, where she was shuddering and welcoming beneath him, where her stunned cries were loud in his ear and her shaky body rubbed against him in the right way.

He came in her, and it felt like he came home.

‡

A
mana woke from
a dreamless sleep in the exact same position she had been in before – with a mercenary wrapped around her, his arm over her waist and his half-hard cock pressed against her ass.

This time, though, her body was sore in the best way possible, areas stretched and bruised from Merc’s mouth and body on and in hers.

The sun was high, suggesting it was around noon. She lifted her head to see the clock, but her movement disturbed him, had him snuffling in tighter to her.

She settled back in his arms. She wasn’t going to fall back asleep, but she wasn’t hungry and didn’t need to use the washroom, so there was no reason not to stay here until he woke.

Which was about a minute later, whether it was because she woke him or something had disturbed them both together. He moved behind her, his arm tightening around her waist. “Good morning.”

“More like good afternoon.”

“Either way, it’s very good.”

Smiling, she bumped her hip back into his. Instead of returning the motion, he pulled her back into a full body hug, so that there wasn’t an inch of their bodies that weren’t linked somehow. She laughed. “You seem to be in a happy mood.”

“I can be depressed later. Right now nothing can bring me down.”

Since that was how she felt, she couldn’t blame him. She was wrapped in his arms, surrounded by him like she’d wanted to be from their first moments together.

For not the first time, thoughts raced through her head about how right he had felt from the first moment, how she’d wanted nothing but him with a strength that was frightening, ridiculous. And for not the first time, what exactly she was capable of filtered through her mind. Did she somehow bring him to her, find him, because he was perfect for her? Did her power seek him out because she’d been wishing for him? Was it a complete accident she found him? Or was this a type of Stockholm Syndrome, where everything she was feeling was false?

No, not the last one. Her feelings were quick and impossible to explain, but they were real. That she knew beyond all doubt.

Whether what they had ultimately survived the outside pressures they were under, they were real. He was part of her, as much as her brother, and nothing would change that.

An urge came over her, an urge that she wanted him to know her, know a part of her no one else could claim. She almost wished it were dark still so that she could talk to him under cover of night.

Facing away from him, his arms tight around her and his breath warm on her neck, she said, “My brother is in jail for murder. But the truth is, the murderer is me.”

*

“I started wandering
in dreams when I was about seven years old,” Amana continued as Merc’s breath caught in his chest, afraid to breathe loud in case it led to disturbing her and causing her to quit talking. “It was nice, then. I told Nakoa all about it – the people I met, the places I visited. I visited everywhere, including other Realms. I didn’t know that at the time. I didn’t realize there were not only realms here on this world, but Realms as in different planes of existence. I only visited pleasant places though, none of the horrifying ones talked about where necromancers and demons rule.”

Sweat beaded across his forehead and down the back of his neck, and a part of him wanted to retreat, didn’t want to hear what she would say, didn’t want to face the possibility she could tell him something that would change their world. He wanted everything the same.