Dream

Just recounting a dream while the pieces are semi-vivid. I woke up aching, my body clenching at nothing. 

My house is overrun with guests and my family has been sucked into the chaos. I try to remember that I agreed to this invasion of my privacy being labeled as a party, but it’s pretty fucking hard when I still haven’t figured out what to wear. 

They’ve transformed everything until even my bedroom is no longer recognizable to me. What an elaborate scheme, far grander in scale than I’d first thought. 

My good friend eyed me critically for a moment before nodding. 

“Stop worrying. Just wear the white blouse with those gray slacks and you’ll look fine for the event.” 

I’m wondering if perhaps bailing on this would be a better option. 

“Yea, that’s probably your best bet on short notice.” She looks around the dining room before turning back to me. “You know, the house is kinda small.”

I find myself growing defensive at her comments. I straighten my blouse to keep from glaring. “It’s an addition so I have my space. The main side that everyone else stays in is actually quite large.” 

She simply smiles at me before shrugging. “As long as you’re comfortable.”

What the hell does that even mean? I eye her for a moment, hoping to discern if that comment was meant to be backhanded as it sounded. She’s never struck me as a bitch, but the whole night is rubbing me wrong. 

“I’m going to go find a drink, I’ll catch you later.”

I leave before she has the opportunity to say anything else. My irritation carries me outside, to the bar that’s been erected in the back yard. It’s this long white affair that glows blue and pink, with stools along the front. Bottles line the back wall, standing like sentinels to guide me in. I move to a stool near the end, next to a guy with a fair complexion and shoulder length brown hair. 

The moment my ass touches the seat, tapping the bar top in hopes of getting the bartender’s attention, the gentleman rises to leave. I don’t know why, but it sets me off. 

“It’s really rude to just leave like that, you know.” There was no hiding the bite in my voice. 

My words stop him in his tracks. He turns back to me, one eyebrow raised in question. “Excuse me?”

I lose a little of my anger, feeling silly for my outburst. Luckily, the bartender comes to take my order. 

“Nothing,” I say to the man with a shrug before turning away. “A shot of whiskey and a margarita. It’s set to be an incredibly long evening and I need the alcohol.”

I’m handed the shot before I’ve finished my sentence. A body at my side stops me before I can knock it back. 

“Apparently something’s bothering you or you wouldn’t have said that.” 

He’s close, the previously retreating man. So close, I can feel his body heat and smell the light cologne he used. Something… that does a number on my body. 

I down my shot, letting the fire shoot down my throat to burn through my whole body. 

“Look,” I breathe out. “I’m not sure why I said that–” 

He interrupts me before I can say any more. “Oh, you know. Don’t chicken out now.”

He moves in closer, his face inches from mine. I feel the ripple of muscle as he presses into my side. The whiskey is already unwinding the tension in my body and I find myself leaning into him. 

“I don’t know…” I swallow, distracted by his breath on my lips. “Just ignore me.”

“Too late now.” His lips brush mine and I’m done for. 

The clink of a glass being set in front of me breaks some of the tension. “Your drink.”

I grab it, turning away to try and regain some sense. Lost my head a little there. More alcohol is the remedy for my lapse. 

“Come watch the band play with me.” His voice seems to wash over me. Warm, soothing, and altogether too deep to resist. 

I let him pull me away from the bar, across the lawn to where the band is setting up. The crowd is thin, but the way he presses into the back of me I hardly notice. 

He simply holds me. An arm banded beneath my breasts and a hand holding my hip. His cock presses into my lower back and I hold my breath. When his lips fall on my neck, I release the breath as a moan. 

“You wanted my attention and now you have it.” He grazes my neck with his teeth and I am liquid in his arms. 

I turn in his arms, needing his lips on mine again. Nothing matters except feeling him against me, inside me. My hands find their way under his jacket to caress along the silk of his shirt. I wanted to touch skin, but I’m trying to remember where we are standing. 

“Don’t be shy,” he whispered against my lips, “I don’t plan on being.”

Before I can register his intent, I’m on my back in the grass. My gasp is swallowed up by his mouth on mine, the intensity of it stealing what little breath I have. 

His hands rend my slacks at the juncture of my thighs and I feel his fingers press into me. My mouth and my legs open wider for him, inviting tongue and fingers and cock if he’ll give them to me. 

“So wet for me and you don’t even know my name.” His chuckle is lost as he takes my lips again. 

I don’t need to know it. I lift my hips off the ground, pressing into his fingers to remind him what I need to know in this moment. 

His fingers disappear and I groan my irritation. Ah, but he’s as ready for me as I am for him. The blunt head of him presses into the barrier of my panties before he moves them aside to gain entrance. 

My back arches at his invasion, body stretching to accommodate, mouth sucking hard on his tongue. I grip his hips with my knees, lifting to invite him deeper. His lips leave mine to slip to my throat. My eyes stare blindly at the night sky as he moves with measured thrusts. 

What little civility that remains in me evaporates under the weight of his body, and I express my savagery with loud moans that rise like summer heat. 

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I like it when you talk to me

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