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Lizzie
Mmm…
Kissing Caleb Walker is exactly as I’d imagined it. But then… why wouldn’t it be? Dreams are where fantasy happens after all. Whatever I’ve been secretly wondering, will have been taken by my subconscious mind and magnified a thousand times over.
I don’t recall when I fell asleep. But I’m glad I did.
First contact is almost still. Despite being such a hard man, Caleb’s lips are soft. They yield beneath mine in shock, then seem to pause in warm surprise.
Curious…
On the cool nights when I’ve daydreamed of what it might be like to throw caution to the wind and have my way with the wild man of East River Forge, Caleb is always a confident lover. Someone who takes charge, who claims control. Who dominates.
This time, he seems almost uncertain. And it makes him taste all the sweeter.
In my dreams though, I’m allowed to take liberties. I can be wanton. Wild. I can demand what I wish from my perfect lover and risk no shame or embarrassment. And right now—after an emotional day and shared revelations with the real, waking Caleb—I hunger not for the sweetness of a gentle partner but for the lover I’ve known in my imaginings.
I kiss him again. Harder. I move my lips against his like I’m appraising his taste. I tilt my head and find an angle that turns the connection deeper. I nip just a little at the corner of his mouth. Teasing. Challenging…
His lips part and a hot exhale pours into my mouth and over my tongue. It warms me through, curling my toes and setting my heart racing. Caleb’s breath. Caleb’s closeness. His body will be just as warm, I know, his skin hot. Will I even survive an entangling of our bodies? Or will I burn up beneath the flame?
“Mmm… Caleb…”
This time, the warm air stops altogether, like my lover can’t catch his breath. Like it’s trapped in his chest.
Caleb lunges for me. My eyes are closed so I don’t see it. But I feel it.
Damn, this dream is something else.
Suddenly, rough palms hold my head fast. His presence is bigger—huge—before me and his mouth is on mine. Truly on mine. And holy hell does the man know how to kiss.
Not confident as I had imagined, but powerful in its rawness. Caleb doesn’t care for technique. He doesn’t kiss me as if he has a routine or a checklist of moves to complete. He kisses with a natural, all-consuming impulse.
He wants my lips soft beneath him, so he kisses me hard. He wants to coax a sigh, a mew, a shivering exhale of approval, so he brushes my mouth so gently that I hunger for more. Where passion overtakes, he pulls my lower lip between his teeth and nibbles.
Claiming, exploring, dominating… Caleb kisses me as if he’s starving. As if his only key to survival is to pleasure my mouth, to pleasure me.
Instantly, I’m flushing hot from head to toe. My lungs spasm around that final breath I took forever and ago. My skin feels too tight. And there’s no helping what’s happening between my thighs; the ache, the need to push toward him… to have our lower bodies come flush together.
My palms itch to be filled with… with something. His hair, his shoulders, his muscles, his manhood. Anything that I might lay claim to so that I can return this sensation.
He’s kissed me for barely a second and I’m ready to leap from my chair, hit the porch floorboards, and demand he makes love to me right here and now. My body craves it.
I need Caleb Walker inside me.
The kiss is turning wet now, his tongue probing for entry to my—
Oh, holy crap, I’m awake.
The realization hits me like a clanging gong, and I freeze.
Despite the boiling beneath my skin, the aching coil in my core, I cannot help the instinctive hesitation. I’m suddenly paralyzed by the combination of lust and surprise.
Caleb senses it immediately and turns to granite right there with me. His hands are still in my hair and the kiss is broken. The chill air of the night whispers over my abandoned mouth. I almost cry with the loss of his warmth.
Swallowing, I open my eyes.
I’m still sitting in Caleb’s rocking chair, bundled beneath a blanket. Caleb is on his knees on the other side of its arm. His thighs are so long, so strong, that he’s upright beside me, still taller than my seated form. With the light from the house behind him, I can barely see his face. Just the molten heat that’s setting his eyes aflame and the glistening of a dampened lip.
