Dream Bound (20 page)

Another thing he wanted to check in real life.

She didn’t seem to mind being naked in front of him, which was a good thing. He liked to be dressed with his women naked, at least for a while. He figured it had to be some sort of dominance thing, like a control issue, but he liked the sense of being in charge, whether he was with a man or a woman.

He’d been with more men than women, maybe because guys were just easier. Girls wanted the romance and the promises. Guys just wanted to fuck. No complications there, as long as you were careful, and in a way, he thought it was a cool thing that Mac had tested all of them to make sure they were clean.

Made it easier to fantasize. He didn’t have to add a rubber to the storyline, if you could call this a story. He raised his head and looked into Rodie’s eyes. He knew they were brown like his, except he’d never really looked this closely before. There was nothing
brown
about them. No, they seemed to be filled with flecks of gold and green, with darkest chocolate and swirls of amber. Not like his eyes at all.

“Well,” she said, leaning close. “You’ve got me naked. Now what are you going to do with me.”

Oh, shit. He never should have considered her talking to him, but she sounded just like Rodie and he knew exactly what he wanted. He reached for her and pulled her into his lap. She snuggled close for a moment, and then she wiggled free and slid down between his legs.

The next thing he knew, she was unsnapping and unzipping his pants, lowering the damned zipper one set of teeth at a time. He swallowed and it felt like he had a frickin’ tennis ball lodged in his throat by the time she slipped her fingers in through his open fly and lifted his dick out of his pants.

It didn’t come easy, and he was glad he’d dressed with the thing pointed up and to the side, because if it’d been down the leg of his pants she might have snapped the sucker in two. He couldn’t remember ever being this hard, this big, this turned on.

Rodie glanced up at him with her eyes twinkling. Then she lowered her head and wrapped her lips around the sensitive crown.

“Oh, shit.” His breath came in deep pants, and he clutched the arms of the chair so he wouldn’t grab her head and hold her in place. He didn’t want to force her, to hurt her in any way.

She kept taking him deeper and deeper and he felt the muscles of her throat rippling around his length, felt a little hitch in her tongue and mouth when he must have passed by her gag reflex. He held perfectly still, aware she was working at relaxing her throat, and he realized she intended to take him all the way, to swallow him down.

Shit. Oh, shit, but she was doing it, and he had to close his eyes because he’d come if he watched anymore. It was so damned hot, watching her throat ripple around his shaft, but he couldn’t look. His muscles quivered and trembled with the effort to hold still, to let her take control, but it wasn’t easy.

She was killing him.

Dear god, but she was going to kill him with just her mouth.

He opened his eyes and damned if she didn’t grin at him, her lips managing to tilt up around the thick base of his cock. Her eyes were twinkling and her lips were stretched wide, but he could tell she was loving the power, loving the fact she had him, that she’d taken all control away from him.

Everything went still. Rodie took a couple of deep breaths through her nose, and then she pulled back, slipping him from her throat and almost entirely free of her mouth. Then down again, and it was smooth this time. Her throat was relaxed and open for him, though still tight.

He felt the smooth glide as his cock moved over the sides of her teeth, their silky slide along his shaft. Her front teeth had sharp edges scraping him top and bottom as he slid past and everything else was warm and wet. The back of her throat was all soft silk and ridges as she swallowed him down, and he almost wept with the overwhelming pleasure, the pure eroticism of the act.

He’d seen this on porn flicks, heard about it from guys who’d been lucky, but he’d never felt it himself. Never expected to experience anything remotely this unreal.

She slipped her right hand up beneath his sac, cupping his balls beneath her chin, and it was like a bunch of little electric shocks wherever she touched him. Sensation inside and out, until his entire being existed in his cock and balls, all of him controlled by Rodie’s mouth and hands.

Down again, and back, and then again, and he knew he couldn’t last. Knew he was going to come but he didn’t know how she felt about that, about swallowing his stuff. He could barely catch his breath, much less talk. Then he remembered—she could read his mind if he projected what he was thinking.

Rodie. Sweetie, it’s too good. I’m going to come.

Good.

Shit, Rodie. Unless you want a mouthful of spunk, you might want to stop.

Do you want me to stop?

Hell, no. C’mon. I’m trying to be a gentleman here.

You’ll get your chance.

She squeezed his balls and sucked hard. Then she let him slide almost entirely free and her tongue found the little eye at the tip. She swirled around it, stretching the skin, and he lost it. Lost it entirely.

His hips arched up, and as much as he fought it, he knew he’d shoved his dick all the way down her throat. She took him deep and sucked even harder, until he felt the hard ridges on the roof of her mouth and the rough curl of her tongue pressing the thick vein on the underside of his cock. The muscles in her throat rippled as she swallowed, and her fingers were all over the place, squeezing his sac, pressing against his ass. He was coming like he’d never come before, shooting so much that she couldn’t take it all and his seed was spilling from the corners of her mouth.

Everything went dark except for the sparkling lights behind his eyes. He felt her tongue on him, licking his shaft and his balls, almost as if she wanted to get every last drop, but he couldn’t open his eyes. Could barely catch his breath.

It was too real. Too intense. Just too
everything.

Long minutes later, Morgan blinked. The sky overhead was no longer blue, though not entirely dark, either, and he knew the sun had probably just set.

“How the hell ... ?” He’d still been getting settled in when he’d started fantasizing a little after four. He glanced at the clock. Eight minutes after seven. Impossible.

There was no sign of Rodie. For a moment he would have sworn she was really here, really sucking him deep. She’d been so real—the heat in her mouth, her tongue stroking over his skin, her hands on his balls.

A cool breeze brushed over his junk. He glanced down and actually blushed so hard he felt the flush spreading over his face and neck. His damned prick was soft but lying outside his pants. So were his balls, just resting on the open fly like he was on display like some perv.

Had he been in here, jacking off while he fantasized? Crap. What if someone had come in to check on him? How embarrassing would that be? He tucked himself inside his jeans, stuffing his junk through the fly of his boxers. His balls ached like he’d had one hell of an orgasm. He remembered the fantasy, the visual of Rodie’s mouth on him, of her hands on his balls and then her lips and tongue.

He reached inside his pants and touched the smooth skin over his shaft. The skin was still damp. Not sweat. Not sticky from spunk. Almost as if he’d been licked clean, but that was impossible, right? Rodie’d been nothing more than a fantasy, hadn’t she?

Shit. Talk about one very weird experience.

He took off his sensor cap and got out of the recliner, walked to the back, and found a cold beer in the refrigerator. IPA, from a little boutique brewery Morgan liked. Leave it to Mac to think of everything. He used the opener lying on top of the fridge and popped the cap, took a long swallow, and then carried the bottle back to the recliner. He set it on the console and got himself hooked up again.

The fantasy really had him rattled. He needed to talk to Rodie, see if she’d been aware of what he’d been thinking, though that might get a little awkward, too. What if she wasn’t the type of chick to go down on a guy? Would she think he was pressuring her? He took another swallow of beer and settled back in the chair. Let his mind roam as twilight turned to night and stars slowly filled the skylight above his head. He didn’t doubt the Nyrians were out there, didn’t doubt they were somehow making contact, but there’d been no one but Rodie in his fantasy.

At least, as far as he knew. He finished the beer in a couple more swallows and set the empty bottle in the little recycling basket beside the chair. He had less than an hour left, so he closed his eyes and let his mind wander.

It seemed like mere seconds passed before Rodie was back, only this time she wasn’t alone. She had that guy with her—the same guy from last night. Tall, lean but muscular, his skin smooth and bronzed. He didn’t have any body hair on his chest, belly, or groin, though the hair on his head was thick and long, brushing the firm line of his chin, curling against his neck.

His cock was engorged, thick and so heavy it hung down between his legs. His foreskin stretched back beyond the smooth, dark surface of his broad crown. His balls hung heavy in their sac and the skin over his testicles was as hairless as the rest of him. He gazed steadily at Morgan. Then he turned to Rodie and smiled. “I want him. He’s mine. Will you share?”

She grinned at the guy, totally ignoring Morgan. “Only if I can watch,” she said.

Morgan choked back his surprise, but even though he wasn’t sure anymore if this was his fantasy—because it certainly wasn’t something he’d normally come up with—he didn’t refuse. As soon as he’d mentally acquiesced, he realized he was no longer in his chair. There’d been no sense of movement, but he was back in his cabin, leaning over the bed with his ass bare and his fingers clutching the spread.

A shiver ran along his spine. He could have blamed the cool night air and the fact that he was buck naked, but he knew it was more than that. He didn’t bottom. Never had, but it seemed right to lie here passively and wait, shivers of apprehension and all.

Even with Rodie watching. He raised his head and she was there, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, naked but for those sexy black bikini panties, watching him with bright eyes and flushed cheeks. She had her fingers between her legs, stroking herself through the black nylon. Morgan thought of trying to go down on her while he got fucked, but he wasn’t sure his imagination and/or coordination were that good.

Then all thoughts of pleasing Rodie fled. Warm fingers parted his cheeks and spread something slick and creamy inside the crease. It was cool against his hot skin; once again shivers raced along his spine. Then there was a sense of pressure as the guy behind him pressed forward without any warning or prep at all beyond the lube he’d slopped on Morgan’s ass.

No, he just slapped one hand down on Morgan’s butt, pushed forward with that damned monster cock of his, and slipped neatly through Morgan’s virgin hole as if he’d been fucking him in the ass for years.

It was all a fantasy, right? But how does a guy imagine something he’s never done? Where’d he get the details? Morgan felt his anal ring stretch and give, and the thick slide as that big cock went through, went deep, but other than the sharp burn of stretching skin, it didn’t hurt. He’d heard how painful this could be, had expected the worst.

Instead, he groaned with unexpected pleasure.

The guy behind him didn’t miss a beat—right away he was pumping in and out, thrusting hard enough to slide Morgan forward on the thick bedspread. He kept one hand on Morgan’s butt, the other on his back, holding him in place though not entirely still. The gentle abrasion against his cock, trapped as it was between his belly and the blankets, was enough to get him hard again, but it wasn’t what took him close to climax.

No, what really took him over the edge was the steady, deep penetration of his ass by a guy who didn’t exist. This was one for the books, this amazing sense of arousal, the sparks of pleasure from a pressure he’d never experienced in his life. The deep thrust and retreat was more arousing than he’d imagined. He tried to concentrate on the mechanics, the pure physicality of the act, but there wasn’t enough time.

The guy was coming and so was Morgan. Even Rodie writhed with her own climax. Her fingers were jammed down inside the waistband of her panties, deep between her legs. Her eyes closed and her lips twisted in a rictus of pleasure.

Her moans and the soft hitch in her breath as she went right along with Morgan took him again. He felt another small spasm as he came a second time—no, a third if he counted the first fantasy, when Rodie’d sucked him off.

His body shuddered. He closed his eyes, lost in sensation.

When he opened his eyes again, Morgan was alone in the dream shack. He glanced at the clock. Almost eight. Once again he’d lost track of time, though this fantasy had taken barely an hour. At least he was dressed, his pants were zipped and his junk under cover, not hanging out for all the world to see.

And no wet spot. But how? He knew he’d come. Somewhere.

Rodie was due any minute. He’d been here for four hours—four hours that seemed to have disappeared in minutes.

And somehow, he was fully aware his entire life had changed in that short span of time. “Holy shit.” He flopped back against the padded chair. “And this is just the first fucking day.”

10

S
ucking air, Mac climbed out of the lap pool, wrapped a towel around his waist, and finger-combed his wet hair back from his face. His eyes burned from the chlorine; his shoulders ached. He shook out his arms, but the burn from pushing the last ten laps with the butterfly stroke radiated to the tips of his fingers.

Damn, but getting old sucked. Twenty years ago he could’ve done two hundred laps and still felt great. Still gasping air from the effort of a mere hundred, he headed upstairs, hoping he could get through the main floor of the lodge without running into anyone—or passing out. He sucked in another deep breath.