by Anthology
The penetration I wanted definitely wasn’t metaphorical.
But I wanted so much more than that. I wanted to taste her on my tongue, listen to her scream her climax under my mouth, feel her legs trembling where they’d rest hooked over my shoulders. I wanted to suck and lick her tits while she rode my thigh.
My nipples were hard, rubbing against my bra -- lace, today, I’d been feeling sexy -- and I could feel the dampness of my satin panties sliding against my labia as I shifted my weight.
I wanted to do it right then and there, press myself against her back and reach around to caress her breasts, offer to climb under her skirt and go down on her where we stood, next to the photocopiers.
“Here’s what you want,” she said, and I almost said, yes, yes, I want it, take off your blouse.
She was gesturing at the computer screen, of course. I could feel my face getting hot, even as my panties got wetter and wetter. There was no way I could go through with asking her out now.
But there was a nice, long list of titles. Maybe I’d be able to say I needed help finding some of them, in a day or two. It would give me an excuse to seek her out again, and a chance to compose myself a little before my next attempt. Right that minute, I needed to rush home and give my best dildo a workout.
* * *
I dreamed again. Of course I did. Carmilla, and the reading on succubi that I’d done, even though I didn’t need to, and Leila, gorgeous Leila, were a heady combination.
This time, it started with a cat, a regal feline almost the size of a panther, but tawny gold and with intelligent, bright green eyes. She walked straight through my closed bedroom door, and I watched her do it from where I lay on the bed, wearing a silk teddy the like of which I’d never seen before, much less owned.
I examined myself curiously. The cream-colored silk was pale enough that the pink areolae of my nipples showed through as dark shadows. I pinched one through the fabric and shivered at the sensation. Lace edged the lingerie and rubbed against the tops of my breasts and my inner thighs in a tantalizing way as I moved on the bed, shifting to give the cat room when she jumped up beside me.
“Leila,” I said. “This is taking the references to Carmilla almost too seriously, don’t you think?”
The cat purred, a deep rumbling that seemed to move through my body, radiating out from my clit like the waves from my favorite bullet vibe. She rubbed her face against my knee, pushed her broad head between my thighs and lapped at my cunt through the silk of the teddy. Her rough tongue over the silk felt amazing, but I put one hand between her velvety ears and pushed her away.
“This is too weird for me if you’re a cat,” I said. “I mean, I know you’re not, but it’s just...”
Leila’s husky laugh filled the room before she’d finished changing shape. “Is this better?” she asked, crouched between my legs and reaching out to pet the wet silk above my clitoris with her fingertips.
“Fuck, yes.” I moaned as she touched me, throwing my head back and reveling in the sensation. Ever since the early days of exploring my own sexuality, I’d always wanted to be the more active, dominant partner. I wore the silicon cock, metaphorical and otherwise, getting half of my pleasure from giving it to the other woman, watching her come apart under me.
But there was something about dream-Leila that made me want to lie back and take it. Be the one seduced. Let her drive.
“Fuck me,” I said. “Take me.”
She laughed again, her mouth pressed to my thigh, and the vibration felt like the big cat’s purring. “Ask me properly, really ask me, and I will.”
I looked down at her and opened my mouth, wanting to beg, wanting to know what “properly” meant.
And woke up.
* * *
I went back to the library the next day, but stopped at the help desk instead of taking the elevator straight up to the fifth floor. The work-study student sitting behind the desk was a cute redhead with dimples that flashed when she smiled, but I couldn’t have cared less.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her voice disappointingly average.
“Is Leila working today?”
She looked at me blankly. “Leila?”
The tiny hairs on the back of my neck prickled. The dreams had felt so real, even -- no, especially -- the parts that couldn’t be. Leila biting my breast, taking the form of a cat... I had teased her about adhering too closely to Carmilla’s formula. But it wasn’t just because it was a story I was thinking about a lot lately, was it?
I remembered something from the reading I’d been doing, about how dreams in vampire narratives were a way of making the sexual aspects of the stories “safe.” If the heroine thought she was dreaming, nothing was her fault. As long as she was passively accepting the vampire’s attention, she was still virginal, still a good, presumably heterosexual girl. She wasn’t in control. It didn’t count. It wasn’t real.
As long as she told herself they were just dreams.
I thought I knew, then, how the conversation with the girl at the help desk was going to end. But I kept going. “Yes, Leila. Tall, blonde... She’s been helping me with a paper.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell,” the girl said. “But let me check the shift list, could just be someone I haven’t met yet.”
She typed some information into her terminal, then frowned and entered it again before looking up at me and shaking her head. “I’m sorry, there’s no Leila here. Could it be Lilly? There’s a Lilly, but she’s not blonde.”
“Sorry.” I made myself smile. “I must have misunderstood something. Thanks for your help.”
I walked away, the fake smile straining my cheeks until they ached. Of course she wasn’t on the shift list. She probably wasn’t on any list. Oh, it was tempting to assume that she just wasn’t a librarian. She could be some kind of book enthusiast who got her kicks by helping students with their research papers, maybe. But I knew that wasn’t it.
And I knew I wanted to see her again anyway.
* * *
In the dream, I was naked, and Leila wore red. The color blazed against her pale skin and hair, made her painted lips seem even fuller and more kissable. So I kissed her. Pulled her down onto the bed beside me and rolled her over, pinned her with my body stretched over hers.
She laughed, delighted, and I kissed her again and again, all over her face, her neck, the tops of her breasts where they were exposed by the gauzy material of her camisole. She bent one knee, slipping her bare thigh between my legs, and I rocked down onto it, ground myself against her even as I slid one hand beneath the waistband of her panties. She was slick under my fingertips, parting easily before me as I dipped inside.
“Leila,” I murmured against her hair. I slid two fingers inside her wet heat and pressed the heel of my palm over her clit. “Leila, Leila. Why me?”
She arched under me, panting, but her voice was steady when she answered. “You were the one who called for me, Megan. Not the other way around.”
Her answer made as much sense as anything else. I crooked my fingers inside her, seeking out her g-spot. “What do you want?”
“You,” she breathed.
I took my hand away from her long enough to strip her panties off and fumble in my bedside drawer for a fingertip vibe, and then I was on her again, in her again, fucking her with my fingers while my thumb buzzed over her clit. I licked and sucked at the skin between her breasts, tugged at the neckline of her camisole with my teeth. Her nipples were tight and hard, and I sucked one into my mouth, teased it with the tip of my tongue. Maybe I had called her. Maybe it was something I’d done without realizing it, some whispered desire. Hell, maybe it was the keyword searches. Whatever. It was her turn to cry out for me.
I sucked harder on her nipple, grazed it with my teeth before letting go and turning my attention to her other breast. I licked and nibbled, pressed open-mouthed kisses to her pale skin, and pushed her higher and higher with the hand between her legs.
Her thighs started to
tremble, and her voice was shaky when she called my name. I left her breasts with a parting swipe of my tongue across both peaks, then kissed her lips. I stretched over her, covering her again, wanting to feel her against the length of my body.
Leila put her mouth to my throat, and I turned my head, bared my neck with a needy moan.
I could still feel her body clenching around my hand when I woke up.
* * *
I found her on the fifth floor, just after midnight. Her back was turned, and she was looking out the window. She left no reflection on the glass.
“Leila.”
She smiled when she turned. “Megan. Looking for vampires again?”
“Just one,” I said.
When she laughed, I saw her fangs.
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Table of Contents
For Better or Worse
Jodi Payne
Switching Sides
Beth Wylde
Love on the Line
Beth Wylde
For Love of Laura
Cassidy Ryan
If Only in Cranbury Park
Charlotte Dare
Part One
Part Two
Black and White
Shanna Germain
Incident at Shady Oaks
Sarah Colter
Hot for Teacher
Jodi Payne
Defining Moments
Giselle Renarde
Propositioning Pollyanna
Penelope Friday
Leila
Elizabeth Reeve
