Friday, May 18, 2012

The Man of Her Dreams

Isabella knew what her dreams would bring when sleep finally came. She drifted, in an alternate reality that was both comforting and dangerous. At the heart of her fevered dreams was a man—no, a god. She'd been frightened at how real he seemed but her fear soon turned to anticipation and raw lust. 
Each night that he came to her, Isabella struggled to open her eyes, to see him, touch him. He whispered in her ear, his breath fluttering gently against her delicate skin.
"Do you want me Isabella?"
She couldn't speak no matter how she tried. Her body craved his touch. He was no more than shadow but she felt his masculine presence in her bed. With each dream, his actions grew bolder—a lick, a caress. Overwhelming desire washed over her naked body, a hunger so strong Isabella thought she might die if he didn't slake her need.
But this night was different. When Isabella drifted to sleep, her senses were more aware, more alive. He was behind her; she could feel the hardness of him against her. Heat radiated from his body as he embraced her. He cupped her breast and then slid his hand lower demanding access to her most intimate place. Fisting her hair roughly, he pulled her face toward his own. His voice was deep, commanding, and in control.
"Do you want me Isabella?"
"Are you real?" she gasped as he bit her lower lip.
"If you desire it, my love."
Cross-posted at Breathless Press Thursday flash

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