by Robin Lovett
There’s one thing I want to know first, and I want to savor the rush of demand flooding my veins, the thrill of explosive desire exhilarating me, making everything clearer, making every touch of my hands feel like an exquisite delight. “What does dominaq mean?”
He threads his fingers deeper into my hair, and the tresses begin to fall around my shoulders, tickling my nipples and caressing my back. A shiver shakes up my spine. “It means an animal. I think the closest translation I’ve heard said in your language is a lion or lioness. A dominant creature. It’s a euphemism for insatiable sexual aggression.”
I can’t help a chuckle of pride. He’s right, though he can’t realize by how much. Not until I show him. “You have no idea.”
I wish I was the same height as him, and magically, a stone rises beneath my feet, elevating me, until I am equal with his gaze. I smile a salacious grin, reveling in my dream powers. “Are you ready?”
He steps closer, his chest brushing against my erect nipples. He stutters, “You…have no idea.”
I steal his mouth, forcing his lips against mine, my fingers digging into the back of his head. He answers with the same force, squeezing me against him almost enough to take the air from my lungs.
I dive my tongue between his lips, and the hunger in me—it unleashes with a tidal ferocity. I knew I was holding back, I knew I’d built a dam containing the mounting surges of my passions, but I didn’t know that tearing down that dam in one swipe would cascade beyond what I’m capable of expressing.
My tongue is a wielder of my violent desire against his, and I fear I might hurt him or overwhelm him, but he opens his jaw wide and accepts everything I need to pour into him down from the depths of my soul.
His tongue is a dueling weapon against mine, slashing and thrusting, entwining and twisting. I bite down on his tongue with my teeth, and a thick growl echoes in his throat to match the aggressive purr in my chest.
He sucks on my lips, his mouth not only a haven for my explosive desire but a creator of more. His own need is a solid rock for me to batter with the storm within me.
“More, Jenie. Be my dominaq.”
I jump and squeeze my thighs around his hips, locking my ankles at his back. I trap his cock between the outer lips of my sex, and I am so slick against him, the molten wetness dripping from me onto him. I slide my heat up and down him, rocking my pelvis in brutal attacks designed to drive him to insanity.
“Gods!” He swears and grips my ass with biting fingers. He holds me against him as though needing to still my movements on him. But I don’t stop. I grip his shoulders, then double my arms around his back, pumping my body against him.
He makes unintelligible sounds in my ear then seethes a warning between his teeth. “I’m going to come. Is that what you want?”
“Yessss,” I hiss in his ear. “I want to feel your hot come on my skin.”
“More than inside your cunt?”
“Both.” And because it’s my dream, if I want it, I know I can have it.
The broad head of his steely hard cock juts against my clit, again. Again, again, again…
I cry out against his shoulder, and my first climax roars through me—the first of what will be many. I will it to feed him. “Come,” I demand in his ear.
And with a harsh shout, he does, his come steaming onto my sensitive flesh. He pumps out his orgasm with mindless jerks of his hips against mine, and his hot fluids seep onto my belly, my thighs.
I lean back, hanging from his shoulders just enough to see—to find out what I’ve been dying to know for a week: what his come looks like.
I’m not disappointed. I’m struck speechless.
It glows—a fluorescent bright blue. A thick, opaque consistency that sparkles against my skin. I want to touch it, to taste it, to feel it all over my body. But I can’t do that without letting go of him.
As though he reads my thoughts, he backs me up to a chaise longue that wasn’t there before—a cushioned but firm piece of furniture the exact height of his hips while standing, and with the perfect incline and custom curving back to support me, but still lean me forward to see myself between my freely spread thighs.
I run my fingers through his sparkling blue come on my skin. I circle it into all the folds of my soaked pussy, and there’s so much of it, I massage it into the crevices of my hips and the inner flesh of my thighs. I stroke it through the thatch of curls covering the hood of my sex until the hair looks dyed with neon blue sparkles.
I can’t help laughing, the sight is so utterly erotic and wholly alien. “I never could’ve imagined this. This is truly you, isn’t it?” It’s creamy and thick, like it would be rich and delectable to taste. I look up to watch him watching me.
His lips curve in a licentious smile, and his gaze is full of what can only be possessive lust. “You like my come?”
For answer, I gather a pool of it in two of my fingers and lift them to my mouth. It drips, leaving a trail of azure puddles up my navel between my breasts. I place my fingers on my tongue, and the first hint of his flavor overwhelms my senses. I wrap my lips around my fingers and suck and lick every trace of him from the tips.
“Mmmmm.” I swallow, and the texture coats my throat and soothes my flesh, enlivening all my senses of taste and smell.
He leans over me, and the heat in his eyes is a ferocious declaration of lust—the kind he’s obviously been withholding out of consideration for me—until now. “Tell me how it tastes.”
My voice is rasping full of sex. “Like your Exstare sliding down my throat.”
He slides his tongue up between my breasts, licking the drops of his come from my skin. I want to protest; I want it to stay, and like he knows, when his mouth is level with mine, his arms on either side of my head, he says, “I’ll give you more; don’t worry. Before you wake up, you’ll think your skin has changed to the same color as mine.”
Two things hit me: I’m going to have to wake up; this isn’t real. It pelts me in the heart how much in this moment I wish this were real. I shove the thought away with the second realization. I’m having an experience like Assura, like Nemona. It’s far from a change in my DNA like it is with their aliens—which I couldn’t handle—but this desire to be so at one with him I’m covered in him, inside and out, I get it now.
“Will you let me fill you?” he groans against my mouth and shifts his hips so his cock is jutting against my opening.
I look down at his stony erection, glowing blue and the head dipping in the glistening folds of my cunt. Inside, I’m aching and spasming. I spread my legs wider for him and brace my feet on cushioned footrests that appear on either side of his hips.
Gods, I love sex dreams.
Not wanting to miss an inch of him disappearing inside of me, I reach down and hold open the lips of my slickened flesh. The sounds of our merged breathing loud and harsh in the air, all of our focus, my stare and his, locked on the sight of him penetrating me.
The flared head of his cock glides inside me. I whimper with each breath, the stretch, the slide of his hardness against my sensitive softness mocks me with its intensity. He moves so slowly, enters me so gradually, I would beg him to hurry except even at this pace, it’s searing me with pleasure. If I hurry him, it would overwhelm me too quickly.
“Gods, you’re tight,” he gasps, his arms shaking in effort on either side of me. “Are you sure this is okay?” He backs out a bit. “I could—”
“Don’t stop,” I moan, desperately. “It’s perfect.” He’s right; he is so big, this probably should hurt. But it’s a dream, of my imagination. If I want his enormous cock to fit inside me, then it will.
He keeps going deeper and deeper. He reaches the point where I don’t think I can take any more. And then I do. “Ah-ah-ah,” I echo in the back of my throat and have to close my eyes. He’s reaching so far inside me, farther than I knew someone ever could.
“Open your eyes,” he gasps, his voice crushed with air. “I know you want to watch.”
>
I do and see him all the way inside me, our hips flush together. I glance at his face, looking for his reaction. His eyes are watching me, his lips parted and expression bright with awe.
He strokes my cheek and searches my eyes with his. “Okay?” He shudders, his hips jerking minutely against mine, struggling not to move.
I arch my pelvis against him and grab his ass in my hands, pulling him impossibly deeper.
It’s his turn to close his eyes, and his whole body tightens on a groan.
“Open your eyes,” I echo him. “I know you want to watch.”
His eyelids flash open on mine, and he growls, “Is that a challenge?” He pulls out and thrusts back into me so hard, our skin slaps louder than our breaths.
I wince with the shocking pleasure of it. “Yes.”
He bows his head to my ear. “Can I use—the Exstare on you?” His words are tight, like he’s trying to hide from me how much he wants to.
I’m breathless with wanting him to move again, but my curiosity is stronger. “Can—you do that—inside me?”
For answer, he inhales hard and…
Lightning bolts within me, up my spine, and steals my breath with the bliss of it. It crests almost to the point of climax then withdraws. I stare at him, in disbelief. He did that to me with his cock, without even moving.
Sweat dots his brow, and his gaze is a question, an observation. “Too intense?”
“No.” I shake my head, barely. Every muscle in my body is loose and lacking control. Except for my hips, instinctively, unstoppably rocking against him. “More,” I whisper. “Please. More.”
“Oh, thank gods,” he swears and lets go.
He powers into me—internally with his electric heat, bodily with his driving cock, and I transform. I become something other than myself, someone other than the person I’ve known myself to be.
I don’t just feel the pleasure. I become the pleasure. I am the ecstasy, and it is me.
Or maybe it’s more.
Maybe he is my ecstasy, and I am his.
Chapter Fourteen
Koviye
I am too much. I know this.
I filter my desire, my Exstare on most sexual encounters. Some form of restraint is my standard mode of operation.
But I sense in her, my dominaq, that she doesn’t want that. She wants everything I have to give her. I let my Exstare enter her in small increments, thrusting it inside her, the pleasure wrapping around my body as though she were swallowing me whole.
I can’t help testing her, checking in with her, seeing if she can take more. I want to give her more. I want to give her everything—I don’t understand why. Maybe it’s because it’s a dream. Maybe it’s because I’ve been holding back from her for days.
Maybe it’s because I want to give her everything she desires.
And she desires it all, everything. She begs me for more and more, wringing my Exstare from me until she’s not just accepting it, but taking it. Or maybe she’s creating it, somehow entering me and pulling more Exstare from me than I knew I could release.
To call the sensations orgasmic would be to diminish them. It’s like entering another plane of existence. We are in her dreamland, after all, and if this is what she’s capable of imagining for herself, for us, I don’t ever want to leave.
I watch my cock thrust in and out of her, watch her skin start to glow from the inside out with my Exstare, watch my blue come filling her, slickening her and overflowing her. And I go harder. Pounding her with my hips, pistoning in and out of her like a machine set to overdrive.
And still she begs for more.
And still I’m unable to stop.
It’s her dream, I remind myself every time the caution signal I’ve installed in my head goes off. If she doesn’t want this to stop, it will never end, until we wake. And I’m ensnared by her, like she’s trapped me with the demands of her body, rendering me incapable of thinking or wanting to leave her.
At least, for now.
I shake the thought off. There is only this moment.
She reaches for me, pulls my cock from inside her, and pumps me in her hands. “Come on me,” she demands.
And I do, my cock an endless fountain the way I’ve never seen it before. I may have the Exstare, but even this copiousness is beyond my usual capability.
But fuck, it’s good. Coming over and over and never stopping.
Jets of my cerulean come spout from my cock onto her breasts and land sparkling on her nipples. She runs her fingers through it, coating herself, her expression unlike any I’ve seen on her.
She’s so unlike herself, so shameless and uninhibited, gloriously sexed, and giving off her own kind of power that has nothing to do with mine.
I worry I’ve done something to her. But then I look in her eyes, her hazelnut eyes so filled with her essence, I realize she is more herself in this moment than she has ever been with me. I haven’t changed her. I’ve freed her.
She’s freed herself with me.
The chaise longue propping her up to perfect height so she could watch my cock sliding in and out of her—it changes shape and seems to reverse itself. I don’t understand why, until Jenie rolls over. She exposes her back to me, her body arched over the cushions of the chaise. Knee rests support her legs, and by the time she settles, her ass is presented to me on the perfect height for me to make love to her this way.
I step back, overwhelmed, not sure I can do this. Not sure I can take anymore.
Then she reaches back with both her hands and parts her ass cheeks. “Fuck me here,” she orders.
I can’t help it; my jaw falls open. I have no words. I didn’t think—is this really the same person who—
“Koviye?” She leans up on her arm and stares back at me over her shoulder. Her hair falls over her skin in delicate long tresses, and I have a fantasy about what it would feel like wrapped around my hand as I power into her.
“Don’t you want to?” she asks.
“Huh?” My brain isn’t functioning on all levels of comprehension. I’m not sure what she’s asking.
Her mouth curves in an expression of wicked delight. “Do you want to fuck me in the ass, or not?”
“I—I—” Don’t know how to answer this question. It has so many layers, and I’m starting to wonder if I’m both mistranslating her words and misunderstanding her body language.
She laughs and rests her cheek on her hand, turning her hips so the steep curve from her waist to her thigh is facing me. “Would you. Fuck me. In the ass. Please?”
“Jenie…this…I don’t…” I swallow. Thinking all sorts of thoughts about what a terrible idea this is. I glance down at my cock, with a girth to match my full grip and a length standing straight from my hips long enough to match her forearm.
And envision the tiny size of her ass pucker she just showed me.
The math does not work.
“Stop stuttering and answer me,” she laughs. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine but—”
“I doooo.” The words are out before I have the caution to withhold them. I rush on. “But it’ll hurt, Jenie. It’s not a good idea.”
“Shh!” She puts a finger to her lips. “This is my dream, remember? It won’t hurt unless I want it to.” Then she winks at me.
Oh, every god in the paradise beyond, what am I going to do with this woman?
Fuck her in the ass, apparently.
My palms start to sweat.
She glares at me. “And if you ask me if ‘I’m sure’ or try to back down because you’re worried about me, I will kick you in the balls as soon as we wake up.”
I take a deep breath and come back to her. I graze my hand over her hip, then fill my palm with the smooth globe of her rear cheek. “If you want it, I can’t say no.”
“I want it, because I know you’ll make it otherworldly good for me.” The trust in her eyes is stunning, beautifully exquisite, and it goes inside my chest and makes me feel…
I have to r
ub my chest. It’s a strange, almost painful sensation.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“Just…excited.” I glance down at my cock, which is twitching with my pulse to the tip. My usually unwavering confidence needs a boost under this pressure. I’m ready for this. I can do this. “Lie down.”
A contented, blissful expression descends over her face, and she turns back around, her ass presented to me again. I stroke a finger through the delicate seam between her cheeks, and she shudders.
I wish I could see her face, anything so I could read her reactions better. Then abruptly, a gilded mirror appears in front of her. Our eyes meet in the glass: I can see her; she can see me. She waves at me and smiles, “Keep going.”
I smile, too. I’ve dream walked with other lovers before, but never anything like this. Nothing with this much freedom and lack of inhibition from someone who has so many limits in the real world. It’s breathtaking, and I’m filled with a sense of awe that I’m here to witness and be a part of this experience with her.
And an overwhelming desire to make it good for her.
I spread her cheeks in my hands, and, wanting to prime her—to get her tender tissues sensitized—I bend down to lick her, rimming her opening with my tongue. She moans and puckers open, letting me probe my strong tongue inside.
“Yes, like that!” she moans.
While I keep my tongue moving, my fingers pull moisture, intermingled puddles of her arousal and my come, from her luscious cunt and stroke it upward. I coat my fingers in it and replace my tongue with one, and ease it inside her. She makes pleasurable sounds and lifts her ass for more. I glance at her face in the mirror, and she mouths begging words at me not to stop.
I take exceptional care; slow isn’t a strong enough word for the leisurely tempo I take. One finger, dipping in and out to only the first knuckle for excruciatingly gradual minutes. I wait until she is open enough to have two of my fingers tenderly easing inside her all the way up to my last knuckle. I wait until she is screaming for my cock. Her face is wrenched in the mirror, ecstasy twisting her expression tight.
