Enchanted Dreams (25 page)

With a low moan, Ray suddenly released himself inside her. Sara almost swore out loud, her disappointment was so profound.

"That was incredible," he said, covering her face with kisses.

But a short while later, when Sara was cradled in the warmth of Ray's arms, just like every other night, she reminded herself how fortunate she was to have a man as kind and sweet as Ray. She thought of the many things he did for her, listing them one by one as she waited for sleep. The surprise dinners, the sight of him outside chopping wood to keep a fire in the grate, the random love notes he left behind when he left for work—all of these were what made a relationship good. Sleep was a long time in coming, but she was content by the time she found it. A little smile played at the edges of her lips as she drifted off.

But after a while, the smile left Sara's lips and her brows furrowed in consternation. She turned her head from side to side and flailed her arms in an effort to push something away from her. She appeared to be having a vivid dream.

Sara's breathing became irregular. She was being kissed passionately—more passionately than she had ever been kissed before. Hands were moving over her body, exploring every inch of her. She responded to the kisses instinctively, sighing and moaning quietly as she became more and more aroused. The hands seemed to be everywhere at once, apparently trying to discover her through touch. Every now and again a finger brushed over her clitoris, and she whimpered when it moved away. She appeared to be agitated, as if her arousal were giving way to frustration.

Very slowly, in parts, she began to rouse from her sleep.

She lifted her arms and wrapped them around him. She had never known Ray to wake up and ravish her like this in the middle of the night before, but she was pleased. His skin felt cool to her touch and she let her hands roam over him. He continued to caress her as if he were touching her for the very first time. She moaned again as he reached between her legs and cupped his hand over her mound, clutching her firmly while one finger slid up in between and stroked her exactly how she liked.

Her hips began to rock lightly back and forth. She was surprised and delighted that he didn't appear to be in a hurry to climb on top of her, seeming content to simply please her. He kept teasing and tantalizing her with his finger while holding her securely in his hand. He stroked her skillfully, knowingly, and she absently wondered why he hadn't done this before. He was giving her more pleasure with his fingers than he had ever given her when they made love. Her arousal was calling her out of her sleep.

But something wasn't quite right. As Sara slowly became more conscious, even in her high state of arousal, she was becoming more and more aware of something being off, or different—something
wrong
. She came to this realization gradually, reluctantly, not really wanting to let go of the tremendous desire that was building up in her and yearning to be fulfilled. Another little whimper escaped her lips, this time of regret and disappointment.

"Shhh," she heard him whisper. "Just enjoy it, baby."

He held her even more firmly and his finger became more forceful and determined. His lips descended on hers once again, even more passionately, almost violently. She was temporarily distracted by the urgency of his response. She moaned, clutching him closer yet. He devoured her lips, sending new thrills through her.

But Ray had never ravished her like this.

And she could hear, in the background, quite clearly, actually, what she recognized suddenly to be Ray's light snoring.

There was another man making love to her in their bed!

With a sudden cry, Sara pressed her hands against the imposter's chest, but he was strong and held his ground.

"Quiet!" he told her. "Just let me satisfy you." But it was not Ray's voice that addressed her. She wasn't even sure that it was a voice. The sound seemed to be coming from inside her head!

"No!" she cried, struggling against him, and in the very next instant he was gone.

Sara sat up and reached for the lamp on her bedside table, frantically switching on the light.

"Wh…What's the matter?" Ray asked, waking suddenly and squinting his eyes against the sudden flood of light.

Sara looked all around them. There was no sign of anyone else in the room. She bent over the edge of the bed and looked underneath. There was no one there. But she had known there wouldn't be. Whatever it was had disappeared in a single instant. It had not moved away from her. It had
dissolved
.

"What is it?" Ray asked again.

"Nothing," Sara managed in a strangled voice. "I had a dream. Go back to sleep."

She switched off the light, trembling, her desire nearly forgotten.

Was it a dream? She couldn't believe that it was. It felt so
real
. But wasn't that what everyone said about their dreams?

Yet it had remained with her, even after she woke. It had continued to touch and even talk to her. Characters in a dream did not follow you out of it when you woke up. They didn't struggle with you and try to quiet you.

But then, what else could it have been?

Her mind flashed back to the clairvoyant and the spirit who had supposedly spoken to her. Jimmy, was it? She could hear her mother's sanctimonious voice, cautioning her on the dangers of demon possession. She instantly rejected the thought. But she was suddenly cold all over, and a harsh shudder cut through her. Were there really such things as spirits and demons? Had she somehow exposed herself to potential evil simply by going to see a clairvoyant? Her mind balked at the possibility, but she remained uncertain.

Ray's breathing indicated that he had fallen back asleep.

Sara turned her thoughts to him and, as always, it had a calming effect on her. Her life with him, in the here and now, was what she believed in. He had resumed his gentle snoring and it eased her rattled nerves to listen to it. She thought about the man that Ray was, so kind and loving and reliable. And real. She tried to conjure up that feeling of happiness she felt in first coming here to live with him. After a while, the shock of whatever it was that had happened—she was beginning to think it really was all just a very realistic dream—faded, and she eventually drifted back to sleep.

Slowly, subtly and ever so gently, the hands began to once again make their way over Sara's body. They came as if out of nowhere, just lightly tracing over her skin at first, soothingly stroking her, subduing her with their tender influence. As she began to respond, the hands grew bolder, caressing her breasts possessively, cupping and fondling them, and even playfully pinching and pulling at the tips. Moving lower, they groped between her legs, assertively exploring the rest of her body. For the third time that night, the desire curled up within Sara, meandering in and around her insides, sharp and insistent.

Her breathing increased as the fingers began to once again work their magic, lightly circling and tweaking her clitoris until her hips trembled and swayed. Meanwhile the other hand kept roaming assertively up and down her body, sliding up over her breasts and creeping slowly down along her backside, brazenly exploring every part of her.

It was back.

Sara stirred restlessly in her sleep, once again disrupted by the persistent desire that kept rousing all of her senses. But she resisted being pulled from her sleep, conjuring images in an effort to enhance her dream instead. She pictured Ray taking control of her body like this, using just his hands—or possibly even his tongue—to tease and tantalize and torment her. With these thoughts of Ray mingling so faultlessly with the steady deftness of the fingers that now worked her clitoris, Sara drew nearer and nearer the brink of her long-awaited pleasure.

But in an unexpected turn, the fingers stopped and she heard the voice again. "No, Sara, it's not Ray!"

And suddenly the dream collided with reality.

Her mind, shocked beyond disbelief, was suddenly acknowledging the impossible. In fact, it suddenly seemed as if the impossible was the only plausible explanation. Some unseen thing, some otherworldly entity, was making love to her.

Was it a spirit or a demon? Why had he chosen her? What did he want? These questions drifted through her consciousness in a kind of blur, obscured by the thick curtain of exquisite arousal that still hovered and simmered in every fiber of her being.

The fingers once again resumed their efforts, moving over her clitoris with a precision and skillfulness that surprised her. The second hand, too, picked up where it had left off, once again cupping and squeezing her breasts, but this time pinching the tips more aggressively, as if to hurt. Sara automatically bit her lip to avoid crying out and possibly waking Ray.

"That's right," she heard the voice say mockingly. "We don't want to wake Ray."

Sara's heart started to pound with terrified excitement. She turned her head in Ray's direction in the dark, but he had not even stirred. She knew then that the voice was speaking to her from inside her head. She kept saying to herself,
This is not really happening
. But his fingers were working on her relentlessly, pulling her down. She felt weak and her desire was strong, but even so, she tried to resist.

"It
is
happening," the voice countered.

Another, third voice in Sara's head admonished her to scream.

"You don't want to do that," said the voice.

Clearly whatever it was could read her mind. "Who are you?" she thought.

"Open your legs nice and wide for me, and you'll find out."

"I don't have to listen to you!" she thought. But she opened her legs and allowed him to move in between.

She heard his low, rumbling laughter and shuddered. Abruptly, he plunged three fingers into her body and in spite of her wetness, she gasped.

"Sorry, Sara," he said. "But you're going to need this to prepare you for the little surprise I've got planned."

"What surprise?" she asked from inside her head. She meant it as an objection but it came out like an entreaty.

"Something that's going to ruin you for our friend Ray," he said, chuckling menacingly.

"What are you going to do?" she asked. "Tell me, damn you, or I'll scream."

"You're not going to scream," he said coolly. "You want this too badly."

"No," she insisted earnestly. "I love Ray. Why are you doing this?" Her hips were rebelliously gyrating over his fingers. She could hear the sloshing sounds of her body and she felt a sudden panic that Ray would hear them, too, and wake up.

"Never mind why," said the voice, while his fingers worked in and out of her aggressively. "I've got my reasons and you'll be no worse for wear. Except that you'll never be satisfied with Ray again." He laughed cruelly as he added this last.

"Please," she thought distractedly. "Please, please, please…this is wrong."

"Please…what, sweet Sara?" he asked. He kept thrusting his fingers into her as far as they would go.

Sara turned her head from one side to the next. "Please!" She spread her legs wider and jerked her hips up to meet his thrusts.

"You are going to tell me what you want," he told her. "All you have to do is think about it and I'll give it to you. You can start by admitting to yourself how much you want me right now. Maybe you want me even more than you ever wanted our buddy Ray over there?"

"No!" she thought so adamantly that she nearly screamed it out loud. "No! I…love Ray."

"Enough to stop?" he taunted her.

"You're evil," she thought, suddenly fearful again. But her hips seemed to possess a mind of their own as they rode back and forth on his fingers, which were steadily thrashing her insides.

"Oh?" he asked. "Evil, am I?" His fingers halted their thrusting movements and retreated almost all the way out of her, lingering just in between her two little lips. "I wouldn't want to corrupt you, Sara," he taunted.

Sara bit her lip. Her heart was going wild with a sudden panic. She could not account for the exorbitant need in her. The walls of her vagina were aching with yearning from the hours of frustrated desire. "Please!" she thought frantically. "God help me, please!"

"Please what, Sara?" the voice asked again.

"Please…just…oh, why are you doing this to me?" she wondered. "Why don't you just take what you want and go?"

She heard him laugh again. "Sara," he said in his most taunting voice, slipping his fingers all the way in and then out again. "Sa…ra," he repeated in a more singsong tone this time, teasing her like a child might tease another. With each syllable he pressed his fingers in and then withdrew again. "Saaaa…ra."

"Oh!" she cried inwardly. "Please don't stop."

"Please don't stop," he said, mimicking her tone as well as her words. "But what is it you want, Sara? Ask nicely for what you want."

"You bastard!" she thought.

"
Nice…ly
," he scolded, taking his fingers all the way out of her and once again leaving them just lingering at her quivering opening.

"Oh no, don't stop," she begged again.

"That's better," he reminded her. "But you have to also tell me what you want me not to stop. Tell me what you want me to do."

Sara hesitated for as long as she could. She hated him, whoever or whatever he was. But the aching desire in her was becoming painful. She had never felt anything like it before in her life. "I need him," she thought, and heard his wicked laughter. He could hear her thoughts, she reminded herself. Fighting him was pointless.

"Please," she thought, trembling with the effect that even her words were having on her throbbing body. "Finger me again."
And please make the aching stop
, she added to herself. And then other thoughts followed, frightening thoughts, thoughts she had never imagined thinking before.

It was an effort not to scream out loud with pleasure when he complied, once again forcing his fingers in her all the way. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes…" she kept repeating in her mind.

"But there was so much more you thought about, too," he reminded her. "Are you ready for the rest of it?"

"Yes, yes, yes, yes…" She was now chanting the word over and over in her mind.