by Lynsay Sands
“I’m sorry,” he said glumly. “I know I have to do something about this. I’m becoming obsessed with you to the point that I’m afraid of what I’ll do. Every night when I pick up H.D. I’m fighting the urge to drag you into my arms, strip you naked, and explore every inch of your beautiful body with my tongue.”
Ildaria swallowed, her body responding to the image.
“The only thing stopping me is that you’re my employee, an immortal, obviously not interested, and could easily kick my ass for even trying to kiss you. Never mind the sexual harassment suit,” he added with a wry grimace. “It’s gotten so bad that last night I spent most of my time at work fantasizing about how I could do that for real. Seriously,” he insisted when she blinked in surprise. Then he squeezed her hands almost painfully before dropping them and whirling to stride several steps away. His voice thick with shame, he confessed, “I was actually fantasizing on a way to do it. I thought maybe if I got my hands on blood from someone with Rohypnol in their system, I could knock you out, drag you to my apartment, and chain you to my bed and—” He bowed his head in shame. “I’m losing my mind, Ildaria. I can’t stop thinking about you, and the more I think about you, the more I want to—”
G.G.’s words stopped abruptly as he turned to look at her.
Ildaria stared back, slowly realizing that her view of him had changed. She’d been standing just moments ago, but now was flat on her back. Glancing down, she saw that she was lying on a bed in the middle of the club room, naked and chained. Judging by the slack-jawed expression on G.G.’s face now, he hadn’t put her there. But his admission had. It had turned her on when he’d talked about having her naked and chained to his bed, and her subconscious had changed the dream situation to suit.
“God, I’m turning into a sick bastard,” G.G. breathed, moving toward the bed.
“No. You’re not,” Ildaria whispered. Her heart was thundering in her chest. Her subconscious might have put her there, but that didn’t mean she was comfortable being naked and staked out. In reality, she was equal parts excited, anxious, and embarrassed to be in such a position. But mostly she was uncomfortable. Ildaria wasn’t used to being powerless. Not anymore. She hadn’t felt this helpless since—
The brush of his fingers on her calf sent tingles of sensation up her leg and made her thoughts scatter.
“Goddamn, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his gaze sliding over her with awe.
She found herself holding her breath as he examined her, and then it left in a sigh as he continued along the side of the bed, trailing his fingers up her leg, hip, and stomach. A moan slid from her lips, though, when they crested her breast and brushed over the nipple. It immediately went hard, need pushing her anxiety and discomfort away.
“G.G.,” she breathed, wanting to tell him they were sharing this dream. Wanting to tell him that she wanted him too, but her voice deserted her when he suddenly dropped to sit on the side of the bed and bent to claim her nipple with his mouth.
Pressing her head back into the pillow, Ildaria moaned, her body arching upward invitingly, her wrists pulling at the chains restricting them as she tried to reach for his head. He sucked her nipple into his mouth and lashed it with his tongue before grazing it with his teeth as he let it slip from his mouth.
“Mm,” he murmured, his lips trailing down her breast to the valley between them. “You smell like muffins.”
Ildaria’s eyes popped open, surprise pushing some of her desire aside. Muffins?
“Vanilla and spice. Delicious,” he announced and then his tongue swiped up her second breast and lashed the nipple there. “I love muffins,” he growled before claiming that nipple and suckling it into his mouth now.
Ildaria groaned, promising herself she’d make him muffins as he began to nip and lash at the hard bud, sending bolts of excitement through her body. But then he released that as well and breathed, “You’d hate me if you knew I did this to you in my dreams.”
“No,” she gasped, shaking her head on the pillow as his lips moved over her stomach, sending it rippling.
“Yes, you would,” he said, sounding sad, one hand shifting up to cover her breast and squeeze lightly, the other fanning out over her hip before sliding to her upper leg. “But I swear I wouldn’t drug you or chain you up in real life. I’m losing my mind over you and I know it, but I haven’t completely lost it yet. I’ll do what I have to, to keep you safe. I’ll get away from you, go back to England and—”
“No!” Ildaria protested with horror.
“Shh. You’re just a dream. If you were real you’d be glad,” he muttered and then made sure she didn’t protest further by covering her mouth with his in a hard kiss.
Ildaria resisted for all of a heartbeat, and then gave in and kissed him back. She would tell him after. Immortals did not faint during dream sex. She would tell him afterward that this was a shared dream. She’d tell him that he wasn’t losing his mind, or that if he was she was too, and it was only because they were possible life mates. And then she’d beg him to agree to be hers. She wouldn’t even ask him to turn. She just needed him to be hers. She just—
Her thoughts died as his hand slid between her legs and her body responded, pushing everything but the feel, taste, and need for him from her thoughts. God, she wanted to touch him, Ildaria thought and then the chains melted away, freeing her to touch him.
G.G. moaned into her mouth when her hands slid around him and ran over what she could reach of his back, but he didn’t stop kissing and caressing her until she began to tug at his shirt. Breaking their kiss, he nipped at her lower lip and then retrieved his hand from between her legs and stood to quickly undo the buttons of his dress shirt.
Ildaria watched him, panting, her body aching. A small sigh slid from her lips when the shirt was open and he began to shrug out of it, his tattoos shifting with the movement. He was so beautiful, his chest wide and rippling with muscle. Ildaria had never thought much of tattoos in the past, but had to admit G.G.’s were beautiful, a pattern of black whorls and curved thorns that ran around his upper arms to his shoulder, leaving his chest un-inked. She knew from past dreams that the same pattern ran down his muscled back, following the length of his spine. They looked beautiful on him, and she thought it would be a shame if he were turned and lost them.
Movement distracted her from her thoughts, and she focused in on G.G. as he walked to the foot of the bed. He was watching her as he went, his gaze intense, and she stared back, suddenly holding her breath when he paused between her spread, still chained feet.
“Beautiful,” he murmured and then knelt and placed a kiss on the instep of first one foot and then the other. He began to move up her legs then, licking and nipping at each ankle, and then her calf, crawling onto and up the bed as he went. When he licked and nipped at her inner knees and she gasped, shifted and gave a startled sound almost but not quite a giggle, a smile claimed his lips and he raised his head to look up her body to her raised head.
“Ticklish.” The word was a soft rumble in the silence, but he moved on, kissing and nibbling up her inner thighs, moving so slowly Ildaria thought she’d die from the anticipation of his reaching her core. But he surprised her there, bypassing the aching spot altogether and letting his lips travel to her hips and her stomach instead.
Ildaria moaned in disappointment and then gasped and arched as his lips found her breasts and feasted on first one and then the other. Rasping each nipple, nipping, and then suckling, before lifting to claim her mouth. Groaning, Ildaria kissed him back, her suddenly free feet sliding up the bed so that her knees rose to frame his legs and then she used them to lift her hips against his as he ground into her.
G.G. murmured something she didn’t catch as he broke their kiss, and then raised his upper body as if doing push-ups, and watched her face as he ground his lower body against hers. Ildaria tried to meet his gaze, but her eyes kept closing and her head was starting to twist on the pillow as the pressure inside her built.
&nb
sp; “So goddamn beautiful,” he breathed and then suddenly slithered back down her body, pressed her thighs open and buried his face between them to taste her.
Ildaria cried out at the first rasp of his tongue, her body jerking in response, and then tangled her hands in the sheets on either side of her and held on for dear life as he went to work driving her crazy. He did things with his mouth and tongue that had her eyes rolling back in her head, and brought a long ululating sound of need chorusing from her mouth.
It wasn’t the first time he’d done this in their shared dreams, but every time was both a revelation and a struggle. While her hips were thrusting up into the caress, her legs were trying to press closed but being held open by his big hands, and her head was thrashing, shaking back and forth in what might have been taken for denial even as her whole body fought toward the release she knew was coming.
When it hit, she screamed, her whole body convulsing, and her mind briefly insensate with the power of it so that she wasn’t sure she would have been able to give her name if anyone had asked what it was. When she finally regained some of her senses, G.G. was over her, completely nude though she had no idea if he’d stripped or just wished or imagined the clothes away in this shared dream, and then she didn’t care as he was thrusting into her.
Ildaria cried out, her arms and legs wrapping instinctively around him as he filled her. Her body beginning to quiver again as he withdrew and thrust forward over and over. This time when she found her pleasure, he was right there with her, roaring in triumph as he found his own. He collapsed on top of her, and just as quickly tried to roll away, but she held him in place, enjoying his weight on her, holding him as they regained their breath.
Ildaria hadn’t forgotten that she had to talk to him, explain about the shared dreams and tell him that they were life mates. But she waited a few moments for their breathing to slow, and then just as she opened her mouth to speak, the phone rang.
Ildaria stiffened, her arms instinctively tightening around G.G. as if to protect him from the intrusion, but it rang again and she turned her head to peer at the bedside table in the bright sunlight pouring through her bedroom window. The ringing had woken her and the dream had slipped away with consciousness, breaking her connection to G.G.
Cursing, Ildaria glanced at the digital display of the alarm clock next to the phone to see that it was only noon. She’d slept a little more than three hours and was not in the mood for dealing with telemarketers or wrong numbers. She just wanted to go back to sleep and back to her shared dream with G.G., so ignored her phone and closed her eyes. Much to her relief, after two more rings the sound stopped, the call switching to voice mail, she supposed.
Ildaria turned on her side and snuggled under the blankets, eager to return to sleep, but stiffened when the phone began ringing again. Obviously, whoever it was wasn’t going to be put off.
Muttering under her breath with irritation, Ildaria dragged her arm out from under the blankets and snatched the phone off her bedside table. She didn’t even check to see who was calling; she simply hit the green icon to accept the call and brought the phone to her ear.
“Si?” Her voice was groggy with the sleep she wished she was still enjoying and she let her eyes close yet again, hoping it was a quick call and she could get back to sleep.
“I have tea and a sausage breakfast sandwich with your name on it.”
Ildaria’s eyes blinked open at once. It wasn’t just the fact that it was Sofia’s voice speaking to her, but the mention of a sausage breakfast sandwich. Ildaria loved sausage breakfast sandwiches. She’d tried her first one just a week earlier, compliments of Sofia, but they had become her favorite food. She was addicted to them. They were one of the few foods she was willing to miss out on sleep for. On the other hand, she’d planned to talk to G.G. . . .
“Ildaria?”
Heaving a sigh, she shook her head. “I was about to talk to G.G. about . . . stuff.”
“G.G.’s there?” Sofia asked with surprise.
“No. In our dream. I was going to explain that we’re life mates and—”
“What the hell?” Sofia interrupted. “You were going to tell him in a dream that he’s your life mate? Ildaria,” she said with exasperation. “He’d just think that was wishful thinking, and part of his dream. Or maybe his nightmare,” she muttered with disgust, and then grouched, “Get out of bed and open the door right now or I’m giving this sausage breakfast sandwich to Elijah.”
“Fine,” Ildaria snapped irritably. Sitting up in bed, she asked, “Why am I opening the door?”
“Because I’m standing on the other side of it with your tea and sandwich. Why else?”
“Well, why didn’t you just knock then?” Ildaria asked, some of her irritation giving way to exasperated amusement. Sofia couldn’t do anything the normal way. Rather than call, she’d text you to call her, and rather than knock, she apparently called and told you to open the door. The woman was whacked, she thought as she pushed the sheet and blanket aside and climbed out of bed.
“Because I would have had to pound pretty loud for you to hear all the way from the bedroom and I didn’t want to wake G.G. He needs his sleep.”
“And I don’t?” she asked sounding just a bit pissy. She padded out of the bedroom and down the hall.
“You might,” Sofia allowed. “But you aren’t the one who’s been acting like a grumpy bear for the last week and a half . . . which is what I wanted to talk about.”
Ildaria grunted in response to that as she crossed the living room, knowing she was acting a bit like that grumpy bear right now. But it was nothing compared to how G.G. had been acting the last week. At least, when he was awake. So as she turned into the short hall to the door, she said, “G.G. has been a bit short the last week or so. Is that not normal for him?”
“Definitely not,” Sofia assured her, and then lowered the phone when Ildaria unlocked and pulled the door open. Ending the call and sliding the phone into her pocket, she added, “Which is why I wanted to talk to you when G.G. wouldn’t interrupt, and perhaps give him a chance to get some proper sleep since you won’t be sleeping so . . .” She arched her eyebrows meaningfully. “. . . no shared dreams.”
“Right,” Ildaria breathed wearily as she watched Sofia bend to pick up a takeout cup and two bags from the floor—one a small paper bag with a coffee shop logo, and the other a cloth bag.
Straightening, Sofia held them up with a smile. “But I come bearing gifts to make up for it.”
Toning down her scowl, Ildaria managed not to snatch the paper bag no doubt holding the sausage breakfast sandwich from her, and stepped back, gesturing for the platinum blonde to enter. Once Sofia moved past her, she closed the door and locked it before following her to the kitchen island.
Sofia settled herself on one of the chairs at the island and waited until Ildaria claimed the chair next to her before pushing the takeout cup and the paper bag in front of her. She then pulled blood out of the other sack. Four bags of blood, in fact.
“To make up for waking you,” Sofia explained, sliding the bags in front of her as well. “We can get by without sleep. A little blood and it’s like we slept soundly all night. G.G. doesn’t have that advantage.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Ildaria agreed. She wasn’t at all sure if she’d accept the blood, but wasn’t awake enough to argue yet.
“Speaking of lack of sleep,” Sofia said brightly. “How is it?”
“How is lack of sleep?” Ildaria asked with disbelief as she opened the drinking tab on her cup of tea. But she was thinking here was the proof that she wasn’t awake yet because Sofia’s words made no sense to her at all.
“Not the lack of sleep itself,” Sofia said with a faint smile. “The reason for it.”
When Ildaria stared at her blankly, Sofia shifted impatiently and said, “You’ve lived here for two weeks now, right across the hall from G.G. Close enough for shared sex dreams and I know that’s the dream you were talking about earlier. Yo
u’re having them. So . . . how are they?” Sofia asked, her eyebrows wiggling up and down on her forehead. “Are they super hot? They are, aren’t they? Tell me they are.”
When Ildaria started to shake her head, Sofia gave a “bah” of exasperation, her hand waving away what she obviously thought was a denial. “Don’t even try that. If you’ll remember, I can read G.G.’s mind and what I’m reading there is straight-up Mimi porn.”
“Mimi porn?” Ildaria echoed uncertainly.
“Mortal/Immortal making it,” she said helpfully, and then added, “If you went out with myself and our coworkers once in a while like we’ve asked you the last couple of weeks since you started, you’d already know these things.”
“You’re right, of course,” Ildaria said apologetically. “I’m just still trying to adjust to my working hours and living alone.”
“No, you’re not. You’re exhausted from all the shared sex dreams messing with your sleep,” Sofia countered easily, and then announced, “So is G.G. Half the time he looks like an exhausted zombie, and the other half he’s a grumpy bear. As are you,” she added, mouth pursing with displeasure and eyebrows arching on her forehead. “You really need to jump the poor man’s bones or something. Then he’ll pass out and maybe get some real sleep.”
When Ildaria didn’t respond, Sofia added, “We’d all appreciate it. We are not used to a grumpy G.G. The guy is usually a teddy bear, not a grizzly.”
Ildaria shook her head wearily. “I can’t believe you’re asking me to sleep with G.G. for your sake.”
“And yours,” Sofia assured her quickly. “I mean, you’re suffering the frustrations of hell at the moment, so . . .” Turning in her seat to face her, Sofia leaned her elbow on the island and raised her eyebrows. “Tell Mama all about it. What are shared sex dreams really like?”
Ildaria bit her lip, her thoughts turning to the dream she’d been having before Sofia had woken her. It was one of many she’d enjoyed the last two weeks. She’d had the first one her first night. She’d gone to bed in the lovely, comfortable bed from Marguerite’s home that they’d brought for her, and—exhausted from all the setup she’d done in the apartment that day, and then the hours she’d spent working before continuing with laundry and cleanup after taking H.D. up to her apartment until G.G. came to get him—Well, between all of that, she was nearly asleep before her eyes were fully closed.
