by james
Kira stared at him. “Isn’t it your turn?”
“My turn?”
“To…uh…come.”
“You wish me to come?”
“Yes. I wish you as much pleasure as you’ve given to me.”
His eyes darkened. “Will you allow me to choose my pleasure?”
What an odd fantasy lover she’d chosen.
Kira nodded. “Of course.”
Her lover’s expression turned hungry, feral. “Hold your breasts together,
mistress.”
She did so without question. He removed his cock from her pussy then scooted forward until his knees were even with her arms. He inserted his cock into the tight space created by her breasts squeezed together.
Kira gasped. The intimacy of having his cock so close to her face was unnerving. His penis was so wet from her it was slick against her skin. He increased his pace, groaning. Kira closed her eyes, feeling her body rev up again. She liked this man thrusting between her breasts; her fingers curled around her nipples and tugged. She moaned, her eyes opening and finding the man’s gaze
on her.
“Mistress, I’m going to come. Drink from me.”
She’d never done such a thing in her life, but she was more than willing. He stopped his thrusts and pushed the tip of his round, thick head against her lips. A drop of pre-come lingered there and she licked it. It tasted salty and not unpleasant.
“Open your mouth. Take me.”
She opened her mouth and allowed him to slide between her lips. She cupped his balls with one hand and curled the other around his cock. Her tongue lapped and suckled his head while her hands stroked the hard flesh of his penis
and the round softness of his balls.
“Mistress!” he cried out.
He pushed his cock into her mouth and she clamped her lips around it. He jerked once, twice…and warm salty come filled her mouth. She swallowed it with surprising ease, drinking from him until he was dry. She slid her tongue along the slit then swirled around the head. After a moment, her lover eased away from her mouth and settled beside her on the couch.
“You have given me more pleasure than any woman I’ve known. What do you wish of me now?”
She warmed at his compliment, though it probably wasn’t true. But dream lovers were supposed to say such wonderful things, weren’t they? Exhaustion poured through her as she snuggled next to him. “I wish to be held, and to sleep.” Before she closed her eyes, she added, “And I wish you’d really be here tomorrow when I wake up from this dream.”
* * * * *
Kira woke on Sunday morning, but she didn’t open her eyes. Not yet. The fantasy she’d created last night still held her enthralled. In fact, she swore she felt a male body pressed against her back, his arm draped against her stomach, his steady breath fanning her neck. She even felt his cock nestled against her buttocks.
She had one hell of an imagination.
Exhaling a contented sigh, she opened her eyes. She was in her bedroom, tucked into the ugly flower comforter like a burrito. Her orgasm last night must have made her black out because she sure didn’t remember moving from the couch to her bed. She grinned. “Use The Great Smenkare with caution. May
cause amnesia.”
“You flatter me, mistress,” said a sleepy male voice.
Kira screamed and tried to wrestle herself out of the tight covers. The male
arm she’d imagined draped across her stomach tightened to keep her still then pressed her against the imaginary male body.
She screamed louder.
“Ssshhh, mistress,” commanded the same voice. “It is too early for womanly hysterics.”
That shut her up.
Her imaginary man was chastising her.
Goddamn it. She couldn’t even create the perfect fantasy man. She had to create one that accused her of being hysterical.
Taking a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe she was still dreaming. Yeah. One of those dreams within a dream people talked about. She steadied her breath, trying to ignore the feel of the man behind her.
He didn’t exist. He was the imaginary manifestation of a vibrator. He was just—
Wait a minute.
Did his penis just twitch against her ass?
Her eyes flew open and she struggled against the covers. She couldn’t extract
herself so she wiggled off the bed until she landed in a floral-blanket lump on the floor. The covers clung to her legs like a begging boyfriend, but she managed to kick off the damn thing with lots of flailing and cursing. Blanket-free, she scooted against the nearest wall, and covered her eyes. After a moment of deep breathing, she spread her fingers and peered through the gaps.
Her handsome fantasy man’s face appeared at the edge of the bed. He stared at her quizzically. “Is this your normal way of waking up, mistress?”
Kira screamed and scrambled to her feet. She backed against the wall and glanced at the bedroom door. It looked like it was a zillion miles away. Her bathroom was located on the other side of the bed so she couldn’t lock herself in it and yell until neighbors heard her pleas for help.
Her heart pounded furiously. She’d never been so scared in her life. How the hell had this guy gotten into her apartment? And what kind of sicko pervert crawled into a woman’s bed naked just to hold her like she was some kind of precious treasure?
She inched toward the bedroom door and smacked her hip into the dresser. “Ow!” She glanced at the man and found him stretching leisurely across the bed, his gaze assessing her in a way that made her whole body blush.
“You have firm breasts. And round hips. Your legs are long, like a colt’s. But I especially like your mouth.” His grin was sexy, knowing.
“Th—that wasn’t real,” she said, moving along the dresser. The drawer knobs poked her in the rear end. “You’re not here. I created a fantasy and I’m trapped in it. I went crazy and I’m really in a padded room living out a sexual lie.”
“You are here,” he pointed out. “This room is not padded. But it’s possible you are crazy.”
“Gee thanks,” she managed.
“Where are you going, mistress?”
Mistress. She remembered her fantasy man had called her that, too. Was it possible this was real? That she had somehow conjured this guy from her fantasy life?
He sighed. “She did it again, didn’t she? When she doesn’t explain, it sometimes takes a day or two to convince my new mistress that I am real.”
She’d reached the end of the dresser. Just a few steps and she’d be at the door, but she hesitated. “When who doesn’t explain?”
“Bast.”
“The woman who owns the adult bookstore sent you to my house?”
“No,” said the man. “You did.”
“I did not.”
“You bought the vibrator.” He sat up. “How much did you pay?”
“You’re saying you’re the vibrator?”
“It is my prison.”
She wasn’t crazy. He was. She lunged for the door, scooted through it, and shut it. Heart pounding, she grabbed a chair from the dining table and shoved it under the knob. The man’s size and strength would surely smash the thin door to pieces. But for an intruder, he sure was lazy. He’d watched her leave, apparently unconcerned about what she planned to do.
She reached for the phone and hesitated. Call the police? How would she explain his presence? He looked like her lover, lying around in her bed as if he belonged there. Bast. She should call Bast and ask her what the hell was going on.
The air conditioning kicked on and a cool blast hit her from the vent above her head. Her nipples hardened and goose bumps pimpled her skin.
Shit. She was naked. And all her clothes were in the bedroom with Mr. Macho.
* * * * *
Smenkare stretched on the bed, enjoying the soft feel of the mattress. Bast had not given him a rest period. Though she had yet to forgive him in three thousand years for his terrible dee
d, she had softened toward him. Sometimes she waited centuries before giving him to another woman, but other times she moved him from woman to woman for years with no time for recovery.
His last mistress had been the worst of his captors. It was possible Bast did not know how mentally sick the woman had been, but then again, she might have known and wished his suffering for the thirty days he’d been bound to the bitch.
His first vessel had been a marble dildo given to one of Amun’s godswives. He was sure the irony pleased Bast to no end. As the centuries passed and technology changed, he found himself trapped in a vibrator—and this one was truly a part of him. Bast used his own cock and balls to create his latest prison. Turn on the button and he formed around it.
As he thought of last night, a smile creased his lips. Using what little powers he was allowed, he’d encouraged his mistress to believe she was creating the fantasy, not enjoying a real encounter. He found it was less of a shock for his mistresses if he began this way. Most women, no matter how badly they sought companionship, did not appreciate a man with a hard-on suddenly appearing between their legs with an offer to satisfy their every whim.
Grabbing a pillow and tucking it under his head, Smenkare studied the bedroom. The white bed with its matching dresser and nightstands overwhelmed the tiny space. The bedcovers, covered in little purple flowers were scratchy—and ugly.
His gaze took in the knickknacks on the dresser, the clothing draped over a purple chair in the corner, and the few framed pictures adorning the walls. He saw two doors on either side of the room. His mistress had gone out the one on the right. He suspected the rest of her home was through it. That meant the other door probably led to the bathroom.
It appeared that his mistress lived in an apartment, the smallest of all domiciles. Each time he manifested for a woman, Bast infused the knowledge of the era into his mind so he knew the words, the customs, and the culture. He knew the modern era well, too well. Its noise, its pollution, its lack of soul were terrible for him to endure.
Despite the passage of time, he never lost the ache in his heart for his homeland. In the palaces he’d known, rooms were spacious and beautiful, painted in fine colors, kept in prime condition by servants. He remembered the cool breezes of early spring days filtering through open windows, the succulent fruit and soft bread served at breakfast. How he missed his Egypt! Would he never forget the chariot races with Tutenkhaten? The shy smiles of his sister as she asked for stories about Thebes? The daily walks in the garden sanctuary of the Aten?
Kiya, his mother, had been a lesser wife, but had given the King a son. For ten years, he knew he was destined to rule Egypt. Then Nefertiti, the Great Wife, offered his father the son he’d always wanted from her. Despite Tutenkhaten’s frailties and the fact he was the youngest boy, he was the favored son. Akhenaten had loved Nefertiti more than his own life. To gain a son from her was a prayer answered, he said, from the great Aten. And deep in his heart, Smenkare had known Nefertiti would not tolerate anyone but Tutenkhaten ascending the throne. But he never imagined the lengths to which she would go to attain her goal.
Tired of reliving memories and attacked by hunger, Smenkare rose from the bed and walked to the door his mistress had exited. He twisted the knob and pushed, but the door would not open, obviously blocked on the other side. He knocked.
“Mistress? Do you wish me to stay in the bedroom? Or may I join you for breakfast?”
He swallowed his pride for the thousandth time as he asked a woman for permission to do things that should be done freely.
She did not answer and he wondered if she’d left and if she expected him to stay in the room until she returned. He knocked on the door again. “Mistress?”
“Stop calling me that!”
“What should I call you then?”
“A cab.”
He paused. “Acab, may I have breakfast with you?”
He heard a short bark of laughter. “As a fantasy guy, your sense of humor of sucks. Look, I really want you to stay in there until I figure out what to do about you.”
“As you wish, mist—Acab.”
“Oh for the love of Pete! My name is Kira, okay?” He heard a rattling sound and looked down. Near his feet, a foiled wrapper appeared under the inch gap at the bottom of the door, followed by a second, then a third. He picked up the first one. Nutri-Grain Bar. He tore it open and took a bite. Not a bad taste. He scooped up the other two then took them to bed where he settled in to wait until his mistress—his Kira—wanted him.
* * * * *
Kira plucked the green curtain from the front window in the living room and tucked it around herself toga-style. Then she picked up the phone to call Selena. Her best friend answered on the first ring.
“I have a very handsome, very crazy, very naked man trapped in my bedroom. He claims he’s been imprisoned in a vibrator that I bought at The Lust Bastion yesterday and I released him from it when I used it.”
“Sweetie, did you forget to take your meds?”
“I’m not on meds unless you count my multi-vitamin.”
“Did you inhale Liquid Paper again? Remember the last time? You hallucinated Keanu Reeves in your cubicle.”
“Selena! Focus! Handsome, crazy, naked man in my bedroom.”
“And you bought a magical vibrator. I heard you.” She paused. “You really
bought a vibrator?”
“Yes.”
“Congratulations, honey, it’s about time.”
Kira rolled her eyes. Selena didn’t believe her and why should she? Kira
wouldn’t believe it if Selena had called her with the same outrageous tale.
“I’ll prove it. Can you come over?”
“I have to paint my kitchen cabinets today. Can you bring him over here?”
“No, I cannot. I’m dressed in a curtain that used to hang in my living room. I have a naked man who calls me mistress in my bedroom eating Nutri-Grain bars. Do you think you could spare a moment of your time to drop by and help your insane friend?”
“Will you help me paint my kitchen cabinets?”
“Yes, because when I kill you, the blood spatter will ruin the woodwork.”
“Don’t get dramatic,” said Selena. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”
It was the longest thirty minutes of Kira’s life. The scratchy curtain rubbed her skin raw, but damned if she was going to take it off. She sat on the couch and tried to watch TV, but she was too restless.
Was he still in there?
Had she imagined the whole incident?
Was she a loon?
Maybe she should call her therapist and make an appointment. Admitting that she had somehow manifested a man from a vibrator would make a shrink ecstatic just thinking of the billable hours.
Her intercom buzzed. She ran to the door and pushed the “In” button that opened the building’s security door. Selena must have taken her time walking up the one flight of stairs, but after an eternity, she knocked on the apartment’s front
door.
Kira opened it and dragged her friend inside. “What took you so long?”
“I decided to drop by Keanu’s house and see if he’d join us.” Selena
appraised her with raised brows. “Nice toga. Where’s your imaginary friend?”
“In the bedroom.”
Selena dropped her purse on the coffee table and walked toward the
bedroom. “Let’s go have a look.”
Kira trailed her friend across the living room. “Are you nuts?”
“No, you are.” Selena removed the dining room chair from doorway and put her hand on the knob. “C’mon Kira. We’ll open the door and you’ll see that your bed is as empty as your wallet after a three-day sale at Macy’s.”
“Fine. But you go first.” Kira’s heart pounded and her palms felt slick with sweat, but she reluctantly followed Selena into her bedroom. Her gaze zeroed in on the bed.
It was empty.
“B—but…he was t
here! Right there! He was holding me in his arms. Hey! His penis twitched against my ass. Who in their right mind imagines a penis twitching?”
“Apparently, you do.” Selena approached the bed and whistled at the mangled covers on the floor. “Looks like you had a helluva night with your vibrator.”
“The woman who sold it to me didn’t say anything about it causing hallucinations. I’m returning it and getting my two hundred and fifty dollars
back.”
“Two hundred and fifty dollars for a vibrator? You are nuts.”
“I feel so stupid.” Kira sat on the bed and sniffled. “I can’t even pick out a
decent vibrator. I not only wear some kind of weird relationship repellent, I am a sex moron.”
“I think there’s a twelve-step program for that.”
“Ha. Ha.”
Selena plopped down next to Kira and put an arm around her shoulders. “There’s nothing wrong with you, sweetie. You’re going through a rough spell,
that’s all. What do you say we go shopping today? We could stop at Cold Stone Creamery for ice cream on the way to the Fashion Show Mall.”
Slightly cheered, Kira smiled. “All right. I’ll take a quick shower and get dressed.”
She stood and headed toward the bathroom, but before she reached the door she heard the toilet flush. She turned and looked at Selena, who scrambled from the bed and hurried to stand next to Kira. Together, they stared at the door.
It opened.
The gorgeous, naked, and aroused man who was supposed to be a fantasy lover leaned against the doorjamb. His gaze traveled from one woman to another, a smile curving his sensuous lips. “Do you wish a threesome, mistress?”
Kira glanced at Selena. Her mouth had dropped open. For a moment, Kira enjoyed the fact that her normally unshakeable, down-to-earth friend was
speechless. She tapped Selena under the chin. “You’re drooling.”
Selena’s mouth snapped shut. “Oh. My. God.”
The man walked to Kira and cupped her cheek. “What does my mistress wish?”
Stunned at his familiarity, at the teeny tiny flame that leapt in anticipation of his touch, Kira stood rooted to the floor. Her fantasy lover bent and kissed her, his mouth moving across her lips in such a gentle way she almost swooned. “I want you again,” he said. “I ache for my mistress.” He pushed closer, his rockhard penis pressing against the vee of her thighs. He glanced at Selena, who looked like a Technicolor statue as she stood and stared at them.
