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The Dream Crafter(73)

By:Danielle Monsch


“Now, we need to go into the dream and get Hadrien–”

“No.” Her scowl was immediate, and if she thought that would change his mind on this, she underestimated how deeply his need to keep her safe was. “No. You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but don’t lie to me. Don’t tell me nothing happened.”

The way her eyes fell from his told the story, and he put the Spellbook to the side and hugged her close, fingers threading through the coarse blackness of her hair.

He placed small kisses at her temple, breathing her in, letting everything else drain away and leaving only the heaven of her in his arms. “I still have time, and I have friends still on my side. Let’s try to get Hadrien without involving you. If nothing pans out, we’ll talk, but for now let’s wait.”

“Only for now.” Aggression built within her, coming out in the tension of her body and the way she grabbed his hair, a harder reflection of his own gentler caresses. “If we can’t get him any other way, I will go after him. You won’t stop me.” Not letting him answer, she crashed her lips to his.

Their mouths meshed, tongues battling for dominance early as mouths and lips didn’t even wait to meet before the opened to each thrust, each aggression.

Her panting breaths ran through him, good fuck, and sharp white teeth met the plump flesh of his lip. She bruised and used, and pulled him away from her.

“This is where I climb you like a tree,” and the breathless laugh in her voice was punctuated by the move to do just that, the nails clawing into his shoulders and the legs wrapping around his outer thigh and moving up him, until she was above and he was below, until she was the aggressor and his tilted so far back the strain on his neck made swallowing near impossible, but pulling away from her to rectify their positions was even more undesirable, because that meant separating his mouth from hers.

Her fingernails scratched down his scalp, sparking pleasurable bursts through his system, top to bottom, all because of her. Her mouth bruised his, her body writhed atop his, the suggestive movements building him up so his cock now only held achy hardness. She could kick him back and decide to ride him like a horse, and he’d be ready to be mounted…and would love every minute of it, if the natural sensuality of her movements told true.

Amana pulled back but not to stop kissing him – no, now she attacked his neck, pushing his head further back and near tearing into him, aggression in every movement.

He wanted nothing more than to keep like this all night, but the discomfort pinged through his neck and shoulders, and he’d rather not have a sore neck as one of the remembrances of this night. He’d rather it all be pleasure, and the only aches ones that would cause wiggles and half-smiles the next day.

With that in mind, he pulled her back slightly, breaking the suction from his neck with such force he could almost feel the hickey being formed in the movement. “Bed,” and his voice had never been so rough, so turned on.

“Bed,” he repeated, because her eyes were unfocused, and fuck, there was nothing like a woman looking at you, hazy with passion, waiting for you to make it good for her.

Merc picked her up, not letting her go on her own speed, and headed for the bed. Even as he walked her mouth found his again, and the journey was made from memory as he prayed not to run into any walls and break the mood.

They collapsed into a heap where he pulled up and first pulled off his shirt, then hers. This was what he needed, her skin ready and on display for his mouth, and he leaned down to take full advantage, because fuck, she was beautiful, and she was here. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not after this.

His mouth found her nipple, a dark brown little nub which enticed him, invited him close to play, and play he did. To the symphony of her moans, he rolled the perky bundle between his lips, using his tongue to get her nice and wet, flicking it with the tip of his tongue and not letting go for a moment.

Her hands found their way to his hair again, kneading him like a cat, alternating between pulling him close and trying to pull him away.

In this he would not be dissuaded. He took his time, letting her moans go high and keening before he moved to her other breast, giving the same treatment to the other nipple.

Amana was rolling her hips underneath him, pushing her pelvis up into him, sparking through him desire swift as a wildfire.

The pants had to go, and he was the one to get rid of them. He pulled them down those gorgeous legs, spreading her legs in the process, and the dark hair that tufted from beneath her underwear had his cock hard and leaking.

She rushed up, crushing her lips to his again and pulling him down so he lay on top of her, skin to skin every inch crushed together. Her legs were parted and he was settled in the cradle of her thighs, and as she moved against him, he pushed back, only her thin panties and the rough denim of his jeans separating them.