‘Delicious,’ he whispered, just touching his tongue against the soft flossiness and teasing it. Then his juicy mouth curved into a devilish grin and, supporting her bottom on one hand, he positioned her leg over his shoulder. Deftly swapping hands, he repeated the process with the other, and then took hold of her bottom again to bring her crotch right to his face.
With his lips just inches from her, he paused again, as if surveying the landscape of her sex in intimate detail. With her thighs stretched around his head, she was open to him, moist and revealed in a way that even surpassed her dream. The sensation of being studied was like a caress in itself. Stirring and moaning, she reached back and grasped the chair back behind her to create a base from which to push herself against him.
She wanted to writhe. She wanted to buck about. She didn’t dare look down at him, crouched and naked, his face between her thighs.
But she did.
Robin was staring at her sex. His eyes were intent with knowing expectancy, and he was smiling like a demon. The fine gold tipping of his dark hair was almost shooting sparks and, as she watched, he ran his tongue lightly over his lips as if preparing them to savour her flesh.
And then he looked up. Right into her eyes. His own were flashing with a brilliant eldritch light that owed nothing to reflections from the fire or the lamps. Something moved and danced in those duo-coloured depths, something not of this world. Lois gasped, riding high on a silvery strand of terror that only increased her arousal.
But, before she could process it, he plunged in – and she forgot it.
5
The touch of his tongue brought a sharp cry to her lips. She was so ready for it, yet still he surprised her. With cool, delicate precision, he explored her, he caressed her. Flicking his tongue-tip lightly over her slippery folds, tasting and teasing and pleasuring as he went.
The first contact with her clitoris made her drum her heels on his bare back, and her torso arch, pressing her opened sex closer to his face. The second contact made her howl like a woodland animal as he furled his tongue to a silky point and batted it to and fro over the sensitive little button.
The third contact, a firm assertive press with no hesitation or mercy, made her come, shouting and kicking at once.
She couldn’t keep still. She twisted like an electrified eel, her muscles taut and her nails gouging the upholstery of the chair back. But still he held her, feasting and lapping at her sex while she struggled, her bottom a foot off the chair and cradled in his hands.
When he sucked her clit, she came again, and his name, wrought by her lips, filled the cabin in a ringing shout of triumph.
And then, it was like being in the dream again. Well, almost … Her consciousness wavered, her mind knocked sideways by the intense pleasure, and she blinked and blinked again, as she peered down the length of her own trembling body.
Robin seemed to be clothed in gold, his skin dazzling, and his outline mutable, misty and shifting. She opened her mouth to exclaim in fear and wonder, but then her perceptions shifted again, dropping back into place, and all she saw was the most handsome piece of flesh-and-blood male gorgeousness she’d ever seen, looking up at her, grinning at her across the humid planes of her abdomen, his red mouth shimmering with the moisture from her sex.
Gently, he let her down into the seat again, and slid her thighs from off his shoulders, setting her feet on the floor again. Lois released her death-grip on the back of the armchair and slumped against the upholstery as if she’d had every molecule of air in her lungs knocked out of her.
Kneeling up, Robin loomed over her. He touched her face, stroking it with utmost tenderness, smoothing her sweaty hair away from her brow. He seemed to be soothing her as if she’d endured some stringent ordeal, or suffered something terrible and gruelling on his behalf, and his beautiful eyes were solicitous.
‘All right now?’ he whispered, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips.
Lois had to laugh, and Robin beamed at her, laughter in his face too.
‘Bloody fantastic, thanks to you!’ she exclaimed, sitting up, flinging her arm around his shoulder and pulling him close to her for a proper kiss.
He accepted it, still smiling and looking disgustingly pleased with himself.
‘I don’t know where you learnt to do that, but, man, you are a genius!’
‘Sheer instinct, my dearest,’ he murmured, dropping an outrageous wink, then stealing another kiss as he drew her by the arms on to the rug in front of the stove.
The wooden floorboards were hard beneath them, and the old-fashioned rag-rug was bumpy beneath her bottom, but what were minor discomforts like that when you were in the arms of a beautiful magical man who’d just given you the best head you’d had in your entire life? It seemed perfectly natural to coil her arms around Robin and continue the kiss where they’d left off.
Only this time he was lying half over her, his body imposing itself on hers, but not weighing her down. As their tongues duelled, she savoured the sweet taste of his mouth, blended with the salty contrast of her own lingering flavour. His skin was silky smooth as it moved against hers, and the sliding contact set strange thoughts circling and flitting around her mind.
He’s not normal. He’s so not normal …
The fact that he was able to drape himself across her and she barely felt his weight just didn’t make sense. His body had great size and substance, but seemed to lack the commensurate pounds and ounces. As he scooped his hands beneath her and held her to him, pressing her hard against a truly mighty erection, she seemed to see and hear him leap down from the woodshed roof again. He’d almost floated to earth. How could that happen? It defied all logic.
And then there was the undoubted mind-reading.
Maybe he’s just very empathetic, she thought, sliding her hands over his back and his tight male bottom, loving the feel of his skin and its peculiar lack of heat.
And that’s another thing!
How could he feel cool, yet warm her up. It wasn’t only the stove that was heating her. Her skin seemed to glow wherever Robin touched her – which was just about everywhere – and yet the temperature of his own skin seemed far lower than that of a normal person.
I should be afraid. I should be very afraid … And yet I’m not.
No, the only feelings she experienced as Robin worked his hips, and rubbed his glorious cock against her were wonder, delight and pure desire.
Oh, how I want you!
The thought echoed in her mind. Really echoed. She’d actually heard it twice, the two versions very closely overlaid, Robin’s voice on hers.
Without too much effort, she placed her hand on his chest and compelled him to break the kiss and back up a little, so she could look up at him.
His unusual eyes were dark, yet brilliant with desire, and with unfathomable complexity. She sensed great emotion in him, a turbulent well of confused feelings. His eyes were full of a perplexed affection, and warmth, and a poignant yearning.
Oh baby!
Enormous tenderness roiled inside her. She didn’t know how, but she knew he was seeking something. Searching … reaching out for more than just sex. He was magnificent. Competent. He knew just how to stir her and to pleasure her, but beneath that skill lay innocence and longing.
Whatever it is … take it! Take it from me!
Her thought seemed to galvanise him, and his body surged against her, pushing at her with more force. And this time the hardness of the floor did make an impact.
She placed her hand on his chest, halting him. ‘Shall we get into bed for this? It’ll be much more comfy. The floor’s a bit hard.’
Robin stared down at her, and in his face she saw gratitude and a glow of something ineffably sweet. For a moment, she thought he might speak but, instead, he just kissed her forehead, then slid off her, came up on his knees and scooped her effortlessly up into his arms. She coiled her own arms around his neck as he strode lightly to the bed and set her down on it. A moment later, he�
�d whisked up the quilt from under her, slid his body next to hers, and then settled the quilt back down over them like a soft cocoon of intimacy.
This wasn’t at all like her fantasy. It wasn’t exotic or kinky, but in many ways it was much, much better. She felt closer to Robin than to any man, ever, in her life. For a moment he just stared at her again, his head next to hers on the pillow, and she read questions in his eyes. She didn’t know what they were, but she sensed she held the answers.
Then they were kissing again, their mouths fused as he passively allowed her hands to travel and fondle.
His body was beautiful to her touch, and that much was still part of her fantasy. No common man could be this perfect, this muscled and smooth. She ran her fingertips over his back, his waist, his bottom – all as splendid and cool as living alabaster. When he adjusted the tilt of his hips, she slid her hand naturally to his cock.
Dear God Almighty, he was big! And he felt bigger now than ever. It was as if his very flesh had read her desires and re-formed to comply with them. She’d always longed to be with a really big man.
He let out a soft huff of encouragement as she handled and explored him, tracing the veins of his shaft and the flared shape of his tip. From what she could tell, he was circumcised, and a thin slippery fluid was seeping silkily from his love-eye.
Why did it not surprise her that the feel of it was cool?
There was a lot of it too and, even if she’d not been running wet between her own legs, Robin’s slipperiness would have been more than adequate lubrication for his entry …
As if that notion somehow shattered his passivity, Robin rolled towards her, then over her, pinning her effortlessly on her back. Between her thighs, his great penis nestled and then pushed.
Condom!
The word rang in her mind like a bell, and, still poised, Robin came up on his elbows and looked down at her. His gold-frosted hair glinted like a halo in the soft light from the lamps, and his eyes were steady, and almost curious.
‘You have nothing to fear from me, dearest Lois,’ he said, his voice ringing oddly, almost like a hypnotist’s.
The cynical man-suspicious Lois of old would have replied, ‘Is that a fact?’ but the Lois of now, cuddled in the magic womb of the duvet and the heat that wasn’t of Robin, and yet came from him, believed him utterly.
Some ancient, primal, unexplainable knowledge in the pit of her brain told her unequivocally that Robin hailed from somewhere that was outside the fear of disease. He had no connection with the world of pain and infection and, if he could make her pregnant, so be it. She suddenly even wanted that despite the fact she’d never ever wanted it before.
She stared back up at him, and thought, with all her power. This is a dream again, isn’t it?
Robin’s beautiful mouth curved in a teasing smile. ‘Does this feel like a dream to you?’
He pressed harder, and she could feel the broad silky tip of his penis nudging its way imperiously between her sex-lips, then sliding with unerring accuracy right to her very entrance.
Lois shook violently, her body almost vibrating with a befuddling concoction of pure fear and a lust and desire to be filled so intense it made her push back against him and tilt her hips to aid his entrance.
He can read my mind! He really can!
But then fear, uncertainty and the ability to question were all subsumed in the wild overload of sensation. Robin slid into her, slowly, slowly, stretching her as he went, and the feeling of being full, right to the brim with solid male flesh, drove out all extraneous thoughts from her mind as if by main force.
Sublime penetration eradicated all doubt, and Robin settled in as if her body was his home.
As he rocked his hips, and sealed the fit, his voice was a soft zephyr in her ear. ‘Are you all right, my love? Are you comfortable? I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘Don’t worry,’ she murmured back at him, hitching her own pelvis, trying to get closer and tighter with him, even though it probably wasn’t possible. She smiled too, suddenly touched by his question. He was just trying to ease her mind, she knew that. Given what he could do, and what he could sense, there was no way he didn’t know already that his cock felt incredible inside her.
And then he began to kiss her, his mouth like lavender honey as he thrust and thrust smoothly inside her. It was like being part of some divine, reciprocal engine, and each movement, each long, delicious plunge, seemed to make contact with a new pleasure receptor in her depths.
She moaned into his mouth with each smooth, deep shove, sipping at his sweetness as the interior stretching did insane things to her clit. His every movement created a divine tugging sensation in the tiny sensitive organ, and on the profound in-stroke his pubic bone seemed to knock against it. She wriggled to adjust the angle of their bodies for even greater perfection, but still Robin kept up his rhythm and momentum.
How can he do this? she questioned dimly, her entire body throbbing, pulsating, teetering on the brink of some great star-burst of pleasure. He barely weighs anything, yet he has this power, this force?
A heartbeat later, there were no more questions, no more thoughts, no more conscious analysis of any kind.
Just pure sensation as her body sparked and heart and soul flew upwards, borne aloft on a giant wave of loving pleasure.
I love you … I love you … I love you …
She heard the words like bells as she soared among the stars, but for the life of her she couldn’t have specified who’d said them.
6
Sitting up, letting the quilt slide from his shoulders, Robin gazed down at the sleeping woman at his side.
His human fingers tingled with the intense need to touch her again, and in his heart, also temporarily human, emotion surged.
How beautiful she was with her sex-tousled hair and her flushed cheeks. Her body was warm against his, radiating heat and life. He ached to be able to stay and sleep with her in his arms but, even during this special and almost finished month, he could only be the Robin she knew for a limited period. He could only touch, and feel, and experience this depth of passion for a couple of hours, or a little more, after which he was compelled to disassociate.
And he didn’t want to do that in front of Lois.
But just how much would it faze her though?
She was brave, bold and curious. From her thoughts, he knew she was aware that he wasn’t quite what he seemed. Yet still she embraced him and gave herself to him.
And, for that, I love you.
And he loved her even, he sensed, in his discarnate form, where emotions were fainter, rarefied and far less intense. When May was over, he might still feel the ache of loss.
She was compassionate too. His fingertips hovered a centimetre above her lips, her cheek and then her brow. He sensed the sympathy she felt for her surly neighbour, who had not been polite to her. She’d seen through the man’s bluffness to the sad state of his heart.
Would you feel sorry for me?
His ersatz heart twisted with anguish, as he glanced towards her watch on the bedside cabinet, and heard its tick, tick, tick like a giant tolling bell. His sharp vision noted again the date function.
Tomorrow was the last day of May. The last day of his approximate humanity. How he wished that she’d arrived here on the first of the month.
As if affected by the proximity of the month’s end, his form began to waver, so he rose from the bed and gathered his clothes. Not that they would remain if he disassociated. They were part of his illusion. But it seemed important to be as human as he could for as long as he could.
Dressed, he circled the room, wishing there was more he could do for her. When he touched the dark screen of her small computer, he sensed a fault in it and remembered her frustration with it. With a flick of his wrist, he scattered dust across the keyboard and watched as it glittered and sank into the guts of the device, healing the patterns of force as it went.
Well, at least that would bring her some satisfac
tion in the days to come, and distract her from the loss of her temporary playmate. He knew he could wipe her entire memory of him, just as he could have wiped the laptop’s electronic memory if he’d so wished. But the humanity that gripped him made him selfish.
He didn’t want to be forgotten. He wanted her to think of him. And at least remember a little of what they’d shared.
Lifting the curtain at the window, he looked outside. The moon and stars were beginning to fade in the sky across the bay, and already the pink intimations of dawn were slowly gathering. His hand, where it held the cloth, was fading too, and a stir from the bed said that Lois was waking.
With an ache of regret, Robin abandoned his form and drifted upwards and away through the cabin’s ceiling.
Lois woke early, and for a moment, before her faculties fully reconstituted themselves, she lay warm and huddled in the quilt, bathing in contentment. Never ever had her body felt so relaxed, so sated, so complete.
But as cold – really cold – reality set in, so did a profound and jumbled whirl of feelings.
You were real this time! You were fucking real!
Gathering the covers around her shoulders against the chill of the cabin, she ran her fingers over the sheet at her side.
No residual heat. No indentation of a large male body. But he had been here in the bed, she knew it. He really had.
There was other evidence.
Lowering her face to the sheet, she drew in a great breath of lavender and, as she sat up again, she studied her hand and saw on it that faint veil of glimmering dust she’d seen in the cabin the previous morning.
It was insubstantial. Not in the least bit gritty, it was smooth as silk and seemed to dissolve against her skin. But it was real, and it wasn’t just confined to the bed.
Padding around the cabin, she found it dusted across the rag-rug, on the floor, and even scattered thinly across her laptop.
The Red Collection Page 29
