first one, then the other, until they both elongated stiffly and throbbed in wanton surrender.
Despite the bloom of pleasure coiling in her belly, it killed her that she couldn't taste his kiss. Three weeks of erotic bliss and she'd never been able to feel anything he did above her breasts. Her erogenous zones practically hummed each time he touched her, but the passion and intimacy that came with sharing an open-mouthed kiss had been denied her.
She pulled away from his mouth. If she couldn't experience the depth of his kiss, why tease herself with something that always remained off-limits?
"We know what you crave.” His deep, husky voice sent a thrill down her spine. He whispered in low tones, each word a caress in itself.
"No, you don't."
He chuckled. “So headstrong, even now. Haven't we proven, time and again, that we understand your sexual needs better than you do?"
To punctuate that insufferable comment, his hand slipped down the gently rounded slope of her belly to delve between her thighs. Silvana arched her back, feeling the soft mattress beneath her shoulder blades and the heel of his hand pressing against her slit.
"You have no idea.” Her voice came out high-pitched, argumentative, and obstinate. She didn't care.
At first, she'd given in to him. To all of them. But as time passed and it became clear to her that nothing about this dream ever changed, she decided she'd had enough. Enough exhausting, endless games. Enough ecstasy without substance. Just ... enough.
A thick finger parted her folds, insinuating itself inside her slit. The tip of a nail raked her tender flesh, tearing a scream from her throat. Instinctively, she thrust her hips forward, seeking firmer contact with the elusive caress.
"Let us pleasure you,” the dream man whispered.
She opened her mouth to protest. Before she could utter a word, the dream world fragmented around her, shattering into a million pieces. A sound like breaking glass pierced her ears. She grimaced, waiting for the backdrop of her fantasy to right itself.
Until now, she hadn't been fully aware of her imagined surroundings. The setting came into focus in an instant, as if a camera lens suddenly adjusted itself so she could see the expanse of the room.
She stood on a wooden stage awash in harsh neon lights. Each spotlight had been pointed toward her, bathing her in an unforgiving white glow. She gasped as she glanced down at herself, noticing each imperfection highlighted in punishing luminous beams.
Tears of dismay and horror welled in her eyes. The folds of her plump, pale belly stood out in sharp contrast to the gleaming black mahogany wall at her back. No, not a wall, she realized belatedly. More like a table perched at a forty-five degree angle. Her wrists and ankles had been anchored to cuffs that looked to be part of the table itself.
The man stood just a few steps away, no longer touching her but close enough that he could if he wanted. The muscles of his abdomen rippled as he sighed, his gaze never leaving her face.
"Let me go.” A desperate, pleading edge entered her voice. She was ready to bargain now. “P-please. We'll do this somewhere else if you really want to. Somewhere dark. Not this—this—"
More spotlights came on, this time spilling their brutal light over the area in front of the stage. Silvana gasped, a strangled sound ripped from the depths of her chest.
There were men in the audience. Hundreds of them. All watching her with wide, unblinking eyes.
Awareness sizzled throughout her body, blossoming across every inch of her skin. She could feel their stares, like a thousand potent strokes, nuzzles, and careful caresses. She felt them in the way she could never feel her dream lover's kiss.
Her mind rebelled against the unexpected flurry of sensation, but her traitorous body gave itself over to it. Heat flooded her pussy and cream drenched her inner walls, seeping from her channel to moisten her swollen folds.
"You want this.” An
Despite the bloom of pleasure coiling in her belly, it killed her that she couldn't taste his kiss. Three weeks of erotic bliss and she'd never been able to feel anything he did above her breasts. Her erogenous zones practically hummed each time he touched her, but the passion and intimacy that came with sharing an open-mouthed kiss had been denied her.
She pulled away from his mouth. If she couldn't experience the depth of his kiss, why tease herself with something that always remained off-limits?
"We know what you crave.” His deep, husky voice sent a thrill down her spine. He whispered in low tones, each word a caress in itself.
"No, you don't."
He chuckled. “So headstrong, even now. Haven't we proven, time and again, that we understand your sexual needs better than you do?"
To punctuate that insufferable comment, his hand slipped down the gently rounded slope of her belly to delve between her thighs. Silvana arched her back, feeling the soft mattress beneath her shoulder blades and the heel of his hand pressing against her slit.
"You have no idea.” Her voice came out high-pitched, argumentative, and obstinate. She didn't care.
At first, she'd given in to him. To all of them. But as time passed and it became clear to her that nothing about this dream ever changed, she decided she'd had enough. Enough exhausting, endless games. Enough ecstasy without substance. Just ... enough.
A thick finger parted her folds, insinuating itself inside her slit. The tip of a nail raked her tender flesh, tearing a scream from her throat. Instinctively, she thrust her hips forward, seeking firmer contact with the elusive caress.
"Let us pleasure you,” the dream man whispered.
She opened her mouth to protest. Before she could utter a word, the dream world fragmented around her, shattering into a million pieces. A sound like breaking glass pierced her ears. She grimaced, waiting for the backdrop of her fantasy to right itself.
Until now, she hadn't been fully aware of her imagined surroundings. The setting came into focus in an instant, as if a camera lens suddenly adjusted itself so she could see the expanse of the room.
She stood on a wooden stage awash in harsh neon lights. Each spotlight had been pointed toward her, bathing her in an unforgiving white glow. She gasped as she glanced down at herself, noticing each imperfection highlighted in punishing luminous beams.
Tears of dismay and horror welled in her eyes. The folds of her plump, pale belly stood out in sharp contrast to the gleaming black mahogany wall at her back. No, not a wall, she realized belatedly. More like a table perched at a forty-five degree angle. Her wrists and ankles had been anchored to cuffs that looked to be part of the table itself.
The man stood just a few steps away, no longer touching her but close enough that he could if he wanted. The muscles of his abdomen rippled as he sighed, his gaze never leaving her face.
"Let me go.” A desperate, pleading edge entered her voice. She was ready to bargain now. “P-please. We'll do this somewhere else if you really want to. Somewhere dark. Not this—this—"
More spotlights came on, this time spilling their brutal light over the area in front of the stage. Silvana gasped, a strangled sound ripped from the depths of her chest.
There were men in the audience. Hundreds of them. All watching her with wide, unblinking eyes.
Awareness sizzled throughout her body, blossoming across every inch of her skin. She could feel their stares, like a thousand potent strokes, nuzzles, and careful caresses. She felt them in the way she could never feel her dream lover's kiss.
Her mind rebelled against the unexpected flurry of sensation, but her traitorous body gave itself over to it. Heat flooded her pussy and cream drenched her inner walls, seeping from her channel to moisten her swollen folds.
"You want this.” An
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