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Bronwyn sighed and closed her eyes. What the hell was happening to her? A cock. She could feel a cock as though she had one herself. It was a wonderful thing to have a cock. A cock was the center of the whole world.
Bron felt her head roll back, her focus scatter. She couldn’t concentrate on the door. How could she think about anything but the warm feeling in the center of her body. Stumbling back, she held her hands out, trying to find that cot. Her feet felt dumb, her whole body being taken over by sensation.
What in all the planes was happening to her?
Calm down, love. Let it happen.
The words flowed over her. She knew that voice. It was the voice of her Dark Ones. They often spoke as one, their tone flowing in and out. She knew it well. Tears pricked her eyes. She was still asleep. She was dreaming. The whole incident with Ove had been naught but a terrible nightmare. It was still the night before the festival, and she had time.
She fell back on the mattress, worrying because this bed wasn’t hers. It was hard and unyielding, made of wool. Her sheets were of a soft cotton. They had brought them when they left the last province, she and Gillian. Those sheets had been easy to slip into their packs. A reminder of the home they had enjoyed for a few years.
So many “homes.”
She gasped. A hand circled her dream cock. Tight, strong fingers tightened around masculine flesh. No wonder men became obsessed with such a thing. She felt lit from the inside out. That hand laid a light touch along her cock. Her cock? What sort of dream was this?
The kind that keeps you out of trouble.
That voice echoed through her head like a shout from the wrong end of a long tunnel. She tried to call back, but was robbed of her breath as that dream hand grasped her cock and began to squeeze with light pressure.
She fell back on the cot, not giving a damn about the scratchy wool on her back. It could be pine needles for all she cared. This feeling was glorious.
Yes, love, give in. Let us help. Let us find you.
Her ears only caught a part of what her dream voice said, but the sensation ruled her core. She felt her cock and balls, both so, so sensitive. Her balls were tight against her body. They always were when she was around. They drew up at the very thought of being close to her. She was beautiful. So fucking gorgeous. They didn’t need to truly see her. They knew what she was because their souls had meshed. They had mingled in dreams since childhood. A lovely tangling of their bodies was a simple next step.
She felt the moon on her face, the light a gentle slash across her eyes. Were they feeling the same moon on their faces?
She groaned, the sound masculine and deep to her ears. She wasn’t hearing her own voice. She was hearing his.
Shim, love. My name is Shim.
She fell back against the cot. Shim. Was that his name? Her Dark One? This connection felt different. There had always been a gauzy, dreamy quality to the connection before, but this felt so real. His voice wavered a bit, but there was a solidness to it that had never been there before.
Bronwyn. My name is Bronwyn.
There was a low chuckle. She could feel its warmth like he was beside her and his breath could heat her skin. Yes, love. You’re…Always known.
She wanted to hear him, everything he said, but there was a maddening disconnect. And then she felt a surge of arousal. It took her breath away. What was he doing?
She needed to get up. She needed to get away, but he called to her. Perhaps she was still dreaming. Yes. She was dreaming, and this was her precious time. She wasn’t about to waste it with plotting and planning that wouldn’t come to fruition. Bron took a long breath and mentally reached for Shim. Shim. She loved his name. For so long she’d dreamed of him and his twin, but they had no names. Shim. It made him seem real.
And Shim was a dirty boy.
I want to touch…breasts. Touch…
How could she even think when his hand kept stroking his cock? A cock was a marvelous thing. Long and thick, it was like a lightning rod that attracted pleasure. Shim’s heartbeat was steady and strong, his hand moving up and down. An image struck her, slamming into her head with gentle force.
He wanted to spread her legs. He wanted to take that cock and enter her body, joining them together.
They would be naked, not a stitch between them, only warm flesh that fit together perfectly. He would cover her, his chest to her breast, bellies rubbing, legs entangled. Even their toes would kiss. His mouth would sink onto hers, his tongue fusing them together as his cock laid claim.
Her whole body relaxed.
Touch…
He wanted her to touch herself. Her breasts. She put her hand to her breast, his satisfaction pulsing across their connection. He wanted to hold her breasts in his hands, cupping them, playing with the nipples.
It wasn’t enough. Without opening her eyes, she undid the buttons on her bodice, the cool air caressing her breasts. Her nipples tightened.
