Before I Wake Read Online Free PDF Page B

weak.
    He didn’t speak but simply took me into his arms—his very muscular, very strong arms—and kissed me. I swear to God, I actually swooned as he Frenched me. When I said this guy was perfect, I meant it.
    He bent down and swept me up into his arms like I weighed nothing and strode toward the bed. I could hear the fall of his boots muffled by the carpet. I clung to his shoulders, terrified that he would drop me but knowing that he wouldn’t.
    “Beautiful, Dawn,” he murmured as he placed me gently on the bed. “I cannot believe I have been so fortunate as to find you.”
    “I was just thinking the same thing.” This close I could see the dark rim of his irises, smell the jasmine musk of his skin. Even the shadow of his beard was perfect—not too high on the cheek and not at all patchy. In his left ear was a ruby stud. Normally, I don’t go for earrings, but on him it worked. It also made me frown. What was it about it that bothered me?
    “Do you want me?” He was poised above me, one thigh over mine, and I could feel every divine inch of him. He was hard. Very hard.
    “Uh, yes,” I replied, forgetting all about his earring. “I do.”
    He chuckled as his hand reached for me. Through the thin cotton gown I could feel the heat of his fingers as they stroked my breasts. He tweaked my nipples, pinching hard, but not enough to hurt.
    And then he grabbed the neck of my gown and ripped. I heard the loud shredding noise and then the “pop” as the hem snapped.
    He laid both sides open and set that perfect mouth to work on my chest. Little silent darts of “oohs” and “God, yes!” rippled through me, heat pooling between my thighs. And he was only just getting started. His hands were everywhere at once. His skin was hot and smooth beneath my hands. I’d never felt anything so real in a dream before. I was hot for this guy, and from the tent in the front of his tight pants I knew he was just as primed for me.

    He slid down, kissing my ribs, the soft flesh of my belly, then he was between my legs, and I swear he had at least two tongues—one of which was at least six inches long. He impaled me with it, moving it inside me like it was his cock while the other lapped at what I affectionately like to call my “magic button.” Familiar tension built inside me and I moved with it, arching my hips.
    I grabbed at his hair, grinding myself on his mouth. Just a little bit more, and I was going to come.
    Then he stopped. I actually moaned in disappointment, and he chuckled softly in response. Slowly, he slid back up my body. His pants were gone now, and I looked down to see the biggest, thickest, most impressive set of manly equipment I had ever seen. It scared me, and I looked up at his face. He smiled—so perfectly beautiful.
    He slid between my thighs, and I looked down once more, nervous and unsure. But wait…it was just a normal penis now. I must have imagined that it was so terribly big. It was impressive, but not frightening—thick but not threatening. Tension eased from my muscles, and when he stroked the fat head of his cock against my wetness, I spread my legs and whimpered—just a little.
    Oh, this was just too perfect, too good.
    So why did it feel so wrong? He kissed me, and I wanted to pull away. Why did I suddenly want to cringe when he pinched my nipples again? Why did it feel as though his fingers were dirty and cold? The pressure of his lips increased. His teeth cut my lips—I could taste the blood. His breath was stale, like an old trunk that hadn’t been opened in a long time.
    I pushed at his shoulders, struggled against him. I didn’t want this. Even if it was just a dream. I didn’t want him.
    “Stop.”
    He lowered his head, tongued and sucked at my breasts until I writhed with the sensations he elicited. God, it felt so good physically. I wanted him so badly, but I didn’t want him at all.
    I managed to push him off a bit, but not much. “Get off!” I yelled.
    He grinned at me,