by Teddy Hester
“Let go, angel, let yourself feel it.”
Of their own accord, my legs wrap themselves around him. He slides a hand under my backside. It tilts me up, and I take him even deeper.
“You’re getting bigger inside me.”
“That’s what you do to me, Angel. I want you so much. I’m close to the edge. Come with me.”
My inner muscles grip him hard and then spasm. The feeling I had before was nothing compared to this. In the midst of everything, I feel my insides splashed with warmth from Mick. His spurts and my spasms sync. We’re orgasming together.
As one.
Man and wife.
*****
“Beautiful angel. How do you feel?”
“Mmm…” I’m too drunk on what just happened to talk. Just let me lie here, basking in this feeling, for the rest of my life. Our life.
“I’ll take that as an ‘all right’.” He withdraws, and it almost hurts.
“We need a shower. Need me to carry you?”
I shake my head and roll out of bed behind him. We hold hands to the marble and mirrored bathroom. He reaches into the glass-enclosed shower and turns on the water. “You sore?”
“An awareness, but not sore.”
He smiles and steps under the spray, pulling me with him, and closing the door.
“You just stand there, looking all sleepy and satisfied. Let me take care of you.”
“I like that plan.”
“You’re so cute.”
He washes all of me and shampoos my hair. He slides a washcloth between my legs to gently cleanses and soothe. When his hand rests on my abdomen, I open my eyes to find him staring at his fingers splayed over my belly, water cascading over us both. “My baby might already be growing in there.”
This man. “I love you, Michelangelo DePaul.”
His gaze pops up to mine. “How’d you find out my name?”
I give him a lazy grin. “Your mother.”
He groans. “Don’t believe everything she’ll tell you about me.”
“I won’t. I’ll find it out for myself. Over the next sixty or seventy years.”
“God, I love you.” He glances down. “And I need you again. Can you handle it?”
I take him, jutting hard and proud, into my hand. My body instantly readies itself. “May I kiss it?”
His eyes go huge. “Lord, yes.”
I lean down, water massaging my back, and kiss the tip. It bobs in response. “Look at that. Do it again.”
He does, and I giggle.
“No, angel. Never giggle at a man’s cock. Cardinal rule number one.” He picks me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. Bracing my back against the shower wall, he positions himself and slams into me. No gentle, slow testing this time. I get it all in one thrust. “Not giggling now, huh?”
I almost do, he’s so darling, but decide to let him think he’s über-manly. It’s not long before I agree.
“You’re like Gunnar.”
He halts and then grins. “Not exactly. Mounting my mare would be more like this.” He pulls out of me, whirls me to face the wall, bends me at the waist, and with his hands on my hips, plunges back inside. He rocks me on and off his cock, ramming me hard. It’s not an easy ride.
And it’s heavenly.
“More.”
“Such a good angel,” he croons again. “Hold onto the wall.”
*****
After that workout, we sleep.
My fingers exploring his body awakens him. “Hello, wife.”
He snuggles me under his arm, my thigh draped across his. “I feel married, and this is our honeymoon.”
He yawns and stretches his free arm over his head. “Don’t doubt it. Except for the legal steps, you’re my wife and I’m your husband. We’ll be together for the rest of our lives.”
“Does that frighten you?”
He stares up at the ceiling. “It always did before. My life didn’t lend itself to settling down in one place, with one woman.”
That gives me a pang of jealousy. “And now?”
He turns his head and studies me. “Now I can’t imagine life without falling into those big, green eyes every morning, seeing that cloud of strawberry blonde around your head like a halo, feeling your love. I found a life with you. I’m going to cherish it and you forever. How about you? Any worries or regrets?”
I cup the side of his face, loving the rasp of his scruff tickling my palm. “You asked once about my nightmares. They were about a creature in a helmet, walking out of fire toward me. His message haunted me every time I dreamed it. ‘Prepare yourself. I’m coming for you.’”
Mick pulls back far enough that he can look straight at me. “The crash. You dreamed the crash.”
I nod. “For years. Birgitte had to hold and rock me when I was younger. She even took me to a child psychologist. Nothing helped much.”
“And then I arrived.”
“I’d had a particularly vivid nightmare that day. It stuck with me even when I went shopping in Trier. In fact, I had to leave the store and start home, because I was sure something had happened to Birgitte or Alfred.”
“Instead it was the crash.”
“Yes. You came. You stumbled out of the fire, like the creature in my nightmare. I had to find out more about you.”
“So you took me to the hospital, and the rest is history.”
“And I’ve never had The Dream again.”
He scowls. “Wait. You knew it was me. You knew I’d come for you. And yet you rejected me and kept me at arm’s length all that time?”
I sigh. “I’d decided to follow our parents’ dream and make a life with Dieter. You confused me. Plus, I was afraid. Afraid to get close to somebody and then lose them like I lost my parents. Like Nina lost Moon. Love and loss went together in my head.”
“I get it. Is that still an issue?”
“Sure. I think it will always be with me. But maybe it is for everybody. That doesn’t stop people from looking for love and building a life with someone else. Birgitte told me to face my fear and go live a life that would make me happy.”
“And I do?”
“You do.”
“I’ve always been afraid to let people down. I couldn’t measure up to my brothers, so what did I have to offer? Nothing.”
“And I reinforced that belief, accusing you of being an empty charmer.”
“It was what I’d always thought, so I agreed.”
“I was so wrong. And I’ll writhe for a long time about the hurt I dealt you. I’m so sorry.”
He kisses me. “We’re past that now. Let it go. I’d already found solid footing on the estate, helping Alfred—and you, when you’d let me. Then, when you recounted some of that for my family, things changed inside me. I saw that they’d never thought of me that way—I’d put that on myself. I know we’ll have a happy and productive life, Menuett. And, if we have children, we’ll be good parents, with lots of love to share with them and lots of things to teach.”
“I have a family again. A big one.”
“And I have my angel, right here on Earth.”
My heart swells with contentment and promises of the future.
“Thank you, my love, for being the man of my dreams.”
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This wasn’t the easiest book to write, being set in a country I haven’t visited in decades, using snippets of a language I haven’t spoken since I was last there, researching aerobatics, partial splenectomies, femur fractures, and the intricacies of German nobility that, although officially banned since 1919, are still acknowledged and have social impact.
A long list of people helped me pull things together for Dreams: David Neilson for his near-encyclopedic knowledge and appreciation for all things German (any mistakes in the language are mine, not his); Paul Murphy for his experience with the military and danger; my ex and my brother, who were Air Force and Navy aviators, respectively; Roseanne Beck for her medical backgrou
nd; and for my editors Dana and Christa, who read Dreams multiple times in a pressured timeframe, pushing for the tweaks and reworks necessary to make this book good.
My most humble thanks to you all.
CONTACT ME
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THE MANLY SERIES
The Best Man
Leo & Juliette
(New Year’s Day)
Man in Charge
Tony & Cleo
(Ides of March)
Man of My Dreams
Mick & Menuett
(Mother’s Day)
The Boss Man
Jack & Jillian
(Bastille Day)
Man of the House
Adam & Evie
(My Birthday)
Man for the Ages
Lancilotto & Ginevra
(Thanksgiving)
COPYRIGHT
Man of My Dreams
The Manly Series, Book 3
© 2018 by Teddy Hester
All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Names, characters, organizations, locations, and incidents portrayed in this ebook are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. This ebook may not be re-sold, copied, or given away to other people without the written consent of the author.
Paper Airplane Heart--DepositPhotos
