Page 29 of An Accident Waiting to Dragon

If she did, maybe it would dissolve the fantasy.

“I need to be inside you, love,” Asher whispered in a need-laden groan.

“Gods, yes.”

She fumbled, inching down her leggings and panties together, baring herself to him as he freed himself from his jeans. Faster was better. If they were fast enough, maybe they could get this done before her mind cottoned on and yanked her out of it.

The dream kept going.

He lifted her leg, nudging at her entrance, and then nuzzled her neck. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Thank gods.” Then he murmured something she didn’t quite catch. Something like, “Please don’t disappear on me this time. Not yet.”

Or maybe her own wishing was filtering to him. To dream Asher.

Then he pressed forward, the thick, pulsing length of him sliding deep with ease—gods she was so turned on for him, slick with desire. When he was fully seated inside her, Asher paused, and his entire body shuddered around her, his cock swelling, stretching her. “Yes,” he whispered into her neck. “Like that.”

She breathed through the pulsing now taking up a beat inside her, in time with his body.

“Stay with me,” he whispered.

“I’m with you.”

Finally. Tears seeped out at the ache of every unfulfilled dream she’d been yanked out of over the years. Those dreams had carried not only the frustration of not reaching completion, but the slap in the face of what she’d lost all over again. Along with a wallop of guilt for missing him at all when she should have been angry with him.

Not this time though. This time, they’d get there.

Her sighs turned into a hitch as he found her clit with his fingers, then in a slow, decadent dance he moved and he touched, timing each brush of those tantalizing fingers with each surge inside her.

Her dream couldn’t be so cruel as to rip this away from her now. Could it?

It didn’t take long before the layers of sensation created a growing bubble of tension inside her, expanding out and heating up with every slow, deep, deliberate stroke of his cock and every press and slide of his fingers.

Gwen whimpered at the need to come. The need to not have this end before she did. Please, please, please. The words chanted in her head with every move.

“Stay with me,” Asher murmured again. Almost pleaded.

“I’m here.” She moaned at the press of his touch. “I’m close.”

So close. She could feel the orgasm starting to gather, to pull in tighter.

“Me too. Hold on, love.” She found herself lifted off her side, and he stayed deep inside her as he positioned her on her knees, her upper half still lying in the…

Sand?

Asher, now on his knees behind her, gripped her by the hips and slammed into her, and sand rubbed raw against the side of her face. The realization that she was definitely lying on sand almost slipped right out of her head at the sensation of having her body fully possessed like this.

But…sand? In a dream?

“Asher?”

Maybe something in her voice caught his attention, because he slid out to slam back into her—gods that felt so damn good—but then he went dead still.

“Fuck me,” he muttered, and not in the voice he was using a second ago. “This is…”

She fisted her hands, digging into the sand, and it felt real. Entirely real. Gritty and raw against her palms and fingers.

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