"I am into you, Emma."
My ears popped; my heart thumped.
Next I knew, I was dancing—with Leo, I thought. Too inebriated to tell for sure. But who else would it be? I was his, tonight.
He danced behind me, super close, pressing his junk into me. (I wasn't mad about it). He rubbed his hands up my waist, stopping below my armpits. Then his hands slithered forward, grabbing my breasts, squeezing, massaging. I let out a moan, but the music played too loud for anyone to hear. The friction turned him on, too, and my excitement grew.
It was Leo. I smelled his spicy breath, recognized his warmth, the sensation of his guitar-playing hands on me.
But was I hallucinating? Or were we dancing like that, drunkenly groping each other on the dancefloor in front of everyone?
"The moment I met you that night, at dinner."
I was at the bar, sipping through a neon straw, something bubbly and minty and delicious. Someone spoke to me, and I was speaking back, but I had no idea what I was saying.
"Deeply so."
I was on the couch, legs crossed, staring at Leo as he chatted with friends near the window. I stuck a finger in my mouth and wound it around my tongue, lusting after him, growing wetter and wetter by the minute.
Whoa—what was going on? Leo couldn't see me or wasn't paying attention to me; no one was. They were dancing, sniffing lines off the coffee table, drinking from martini glasses piled high with whipped cream over chocolaty liquid.
I was seductive, sexy; or so, I thought. Was I coming off that way? Or was I an intoxicated mess slobbering all over her own finger and wriggling about in distorted ways?
"I have been..."
I stood at a window, peering out at the sights. A different window, smaller than in the living room, and not attached to a terrace. Below was a blur of flashing lights and twinkling buildings. I rubbed my eyes, forgetting I was wearing make-up—and gasped as I sensed a presence behind me.
I dizzily spun to find Leo, sitting on the corner of a gold-covered bedspread, smirking at me. "Hi, sweetheart." His voice morphed in my ears, and I could see two of him. "You all right?"
"Oh, God," I said, traipsing over to sit beside him. We were in a dark, spacious room; I was able to visualize him because of the lights coming from the window. Was this Leo's bedroom? "What the fuck did I do?"
"Nothing to embarrass yourself, I promise." He patted my knee, still smiling. The glow from the scenery below illuminated his face, and though he appeared to have four eyes, he was gorgeous. "Everyone is gone, so I figured it was time to put you to bed."
"Put me to bed?" My palms sank into the plush bedding. "This is my bed? Our bed?"
"Your bed," he said softly, standing up. "One of the guest rooms. I assumed you'd want your privacy." He stood before me and placed a wet kiss on my forehead. How was he not stumbling, like I'd been? He drank as much, if not more, than me. Did drugs, too. All my flashy memories showed him holding a drink. Or sniffing something. Or smoking something.
Yet there he was, stable on his feet, dripping in perfection. Iridescent like some angel, his beautiful body ever more appealing.
"...into you, Emma."
I was in the fancy gold-covered bed. The pillows were propped up, and the blankets pulled up to my chest.
In a panic, I patted myself down, checking if I was naked. Phew, I was in my lingerie. I hadn't brought a change of clothes, so of course, I would have stripped to my bra and underwear to sleep more comfortably. That dress was not meant to get wrinkled under the sheets, and it would have sprinkled sparkles all over the place.
Strange that I was suddenly more lucid. Had I fallen asleep? My phone was in my hand, halfway through a text to Cameron, "sorry for not responding sooner, I was—"
I'd gotten side-tracked, or I had passed out.
No clue where Leo had gone, or if he'd been there at all. The curtains were drawn, setting me in absolute obscurity. I yawned and exited from the message to see that Cameron had answered my earlier texts, while Leo held my phone hostage.
Cameron: Yes, they can afford better smelling shit, but they'd rather stink of circus cotton candy.
Cameron: I hope you're doing okay. I know this is around the time they break out the drugs. Steer clear of those if you can.
I blinked at the screen. None of my memories had showed me partaking in the drugs, and I didn't feel any different from the usual wooziness after drinking too much. I made a mental note to check with Leo tomorrow; he knew I wasn't one to do that stuff, and he'd have stopped me if he saw it happening.
The next text was underlined with worry.
Cameron: I got a text from Leo. He said you were pretty wasted, and that as part of your game, you'd be spending the night there. I'm glad he let me know. Sleep well, babe.
Guilt and anger washed over me. I hadn't told Cameron all this myself, and Leo had taken my phone to prevent me from doing so. Yet, I was thankful—he was looking out for me. He'd guided me to this room, tucked me in, let me doze off my booze.
Me: I'm so sorry. I put my phone in my purse and then got swept up in everything. The guest bedroom is beautiful. I'm safe, snug, and will call you tomorrow.
I didn't expect him to respond; it was two a.m. and he'd be sleeping. Which meant I should have been sleeping, too. I smiled, thinking of him, of the next time I'd get to be in his arms. Tonight was a whirlwind, a confusing mess of emotions and sexual tension, and too much alcohol to think clearly. Had I come on to Leo? Had he come on to me? Were those visions of us getting dirty on the dancefloor real, or exaggerated because of the liquor?
The phone slipped from my grip, and my eyes fluttered, closing, my mind drifting off...
A buzz startled me out of my trek towards slumber. I pulled the screen up to my face, noticing a new message. Cameron?
I gasped. No, not Cameron.
Leo: Come to my room.
The harder I squinted at the screen, the blurrier the words became. They might have said, "how is your room?" or "it's a nice room," but I couldn't be sure. Even the name, Leo, was smudged and confusing and unclear.
As if I'd summoned him—or blacked out for five minutes—he was beside me. Laying sideways, holding himself up with an elbow propped on the mattress. Smirking, sexy as ever.
"Hey," he said, his voice raspy, his hair ruffled over his face, curling around his ears. His chest was bare. I'd never seen him topless up close, and the urge to touch him grew. I was fuzzy, unclear of my surroundings; but my lust for him was there, hard to resist.
Was he real? Was I dreaming?
The only way to be sure would be to pinch myself, so I sat up, squeezed my skin between my index and thumb—
"No, you're not imagining this," he said, licking his lips as he scooched closer. That spicy breath of his swarmed me, heating me up as if I'd taken a bite of a hot pepper. "I'm here, I'm real, and I want you, Emma."
"I want you too," I said, not in control of my own words. My voice came out sultry, as if I hadn't been wasted mere moments ago and knew how to speak seductively.
My heart wasn't beating. Or it was, but it thudded so hard that it turned me numb.
Only him. Only his fingers as they trailed along my arm, up to my shoulder, along my collarbone, gently taking hold of my chin. His fingertips creeping up to my lower lip, puffing it out, then slithering into my mouth.
"I saw you twirling your finger around this tongue of yours, earlier," he said, inching closer, closer. "It made my mouth water."
He mimicked the movement I'd done with my finger and tongue, only his finger was more sensual, rubbing up on my tongue with delight. He moaned as he whirled, whirled. My body was stiff and saturated with desire.
"I'm going to replace my finger with my tongue, now." He didn't wait for a reply, and slithered up as close as possible, pushing into my breasts. As he approached his lips to mine, I felt his erection up against me, and I almost exploded. His tongue slinked into my mouth, immediately locating mine and taking it on a tumultuous journey.
I couldn't breathe, and I loved it. How he captured my breath, our tongues twisting and turning to the point of insanity. His hands were on my neck, my back. We lay sideways, pressed up on one another.
Then his hands slid down to my ass, squeezing it. Taking that as my cue, I let my hand wander, too. The softness of his bare chest, his back, then the incredible firmness of his butt. I was tempted to move my hands to the front and grasp his penis to get a good idea of how large it was. And it felt large, swelling against my underwear, eager to sneak under and establish a deeper connection.
We were breathless when he finally removed his tongue from my mouth. "This is it," he said, biting his lower lip, circling my nipple with the tip of his finger. "If we want to sell this romance, we have to go all the way."
I tensed with trepidation, my lower half so on fire, so hungry for him I squirmed to contain myself.
"Do you want to do this? Do you want me to fuck you, Emma?"
My eyes rolled to the back of my head. "I thought you'd never ask," I said, yearning to grab him and force him into me before we were completely ready. Though judging by the pool gathering underneath me, I was absolutely ready for him. I needed him inside me, filling me up, and thrusting into me until I lost consciousness.
"Mmm, but I want to taste you first," he said, appearing between my thighs. I was on my back and didn't even remember how I got there. He pushed my legs down and started brushing the tip of his nose over the wet spots on my underwear. "God, I've wanted this for so long, Emma. The moment I met you at that dinner."
He started passing his tongue up and down my slit, over my panties. I writhed in eagerness, wanting, no, needing him to pull them off and get in there. But he wouldn't—he'd take his time, building me up, making me crave him so badly I'd come apart.
He slipped a finger under my underwear, gliding it along one lip, then the other. I gripped the bedsheets, begging him, "more, more!" He obliged, by sliding that finger between my lips, slowly massaging my wetness.
I peered down to find him watching me, grinning at my pleasure. "Yeah, baby. You want more, you said?" He removed his finger, and began to pull my underwear down, tickling me as the fabric grazed my thighs, my calves. He tossed the panties to the floor and kissed down my leg until he was millimeters away from my hot spot. "You want my tongue in there? Say it. Tell me what you want."
He waited, his gaze dripping with desire, thirst for me. I struggled to speak, so high on his touch, so lost in his deft movements.
"You," I whispered, then cleared my throat. "You, your tongue. In me. Now."
"Oh," he smirked, "bossy, aren't we? Well, then, let's see here." He got comfortable, laying down with his mouth hovering over my moisture. His breath billowing over me sent me even closer to the edge. After a quick glance at me, and a wink, he whipped his tongue out and flicked it between my lips.
"Fuck," I said, losing all sense of time and space, my thighs shaking from every touch of his tongue. He moved slowly at first, lapping up every inch of me; then he picked up the pace, finding my G-spot, concentrating on it. He knew he'd found it when I nearly crumbled, my legs collapsing on either side of me. "Fuck, Leo. Fuck."
He mumbled something against my lips, not stopping the magic he was working down there. His tongue was skilled, putting me under a spell with every electric shock it shot through me.
I moaned, I writhed, I screamed, burning for him. I was so close to coming that I clamped my mouth shut, holding in my emotions.
"No, baby," he said, looking up. "Don't hold back. Let me hear you. Let me feel you coming for me."
My mouth opened and I unleashed some of the loudest, sexiest screams ever. My nails dug into the sheets, into the mattress, and my toes curled as he pushed me to the brink, carrying me to another world.
I exploded, and he tongued it all up, wiping his mouth with his arm as he crawled up to put his body on top of mine.
"More?" He reached down and grabbed his penis and started rubbing its tip against my fountain of wetness. "You want something else in there, now?"
"All of you," I breathed, closing my eyes, still savoring how hard I'd come for him. "All of you, in me."
He started to push himself into me, and I gasped at the immediate fullness of him, and then—
My eyes opened.
I was in the dark, on my back. No one on top of me, no one next to me or between my legs.
I breathed in heavily, as if I'd just ran around the block; but I was in my lingerie, my phone resting beside me, locked. My finger was...in my underwear.
Underwear that Leo hadn't taken off, because Leo wasn't there. No one was there.
Was that one of the most intense wet dreams in my entire life?
"Fuck," I said, extracting myself from my soaked, aroused vagina. It had felt so real, and my sleeping self had reacted to it. It wasn't the first time I'd woken up mid-masturbation, but this was much bigger. From what I could tell, I'd been seconds away from coming from that dream. "Did that happen?"
Something shifted at the end of the bed, moving the covers.
I wasn't alone? Was there a cat or a dog in here? Or had someone snuck in while I thrashed about in my dream?
My eyes popped open, and I saw a vague outline sitting at the edge of the mattress.
The silhouette of a person turned towards me. "Did what happen?" It said—he said.
Leo. He was there, and my eyes grew used to the obscurity as I peered at him. I could make out his face, now. And his body—wearing a tight t-shirt, and not topless, like in my dream.
So it was a dream. A dream where he'd texted me, crept into my room, and indulged in our fantasies. Well, my fantasies, at least.
And now he was here, on my bed. Watching me. Talking to me. Had he come to check on me, or...was he here for something else?
Is my dream coming true?
♪♪♪