Gideon: The Veiled Ones, #1

By J. A Melville

Gideon

We are The Veiled Ones

We possess abilities other vampires don't

We've been hunted almost to extinction

Rescued and brought to Australia

We must learn to adapt in this strange modern world

We need to blend in, but we are not safe

They're determined to find us. They know our weakness

They made it after all

Zoe is that one bright light in my otherwise dark world

I can't lose her. I must protect her

But they are still coming. They will do anything to get us. To get me

Even if it means going through her

My other weakness

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. A Melville
• Release date: Oct 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9781540101709

Book preview

Chapter One

Present Day

Gideon

She was beautiful. Did she even realise?

Gideon had been watching her for days. Following her from work at a Costume Hire shop to her home. Watching from his position on her verandah roof as she slept. Staring into her bedroom for hours. Or sitting by her windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

His vampire brothers would laugh at him if they could see him. Since they were now free to come and go as they please - and to do whatever they wanted - as long as it was within the boundaries of vampire law - everyone was out each evening hunting and fucking.

Gideon still hunted. He needed blood to survive of course. He couldn’t get it from the woman whose beauty had caught his eye. Not yet at least. Soon. Soon he would taste her, but until then, he fed mostly from animals and occasionally men, or older women.

He wasn’t like his brothers. He didn’t go and feed from any of the beautiful women that were available. He was a ‘freak’ as they called him, because his sights were set on one. He wanted her. The woman he followed. It was her that he longed to feed from and to fuck. It was her that made him ache. He wanted her, and he couldn’t bring himself to settle for anything less than her.

Because he was following her as often as he could, he’d settled into a pattern of feeding from cats and dogs he found in her neighbourhood.

Of course, he had to be careful with animals of that size. They didn’t have anywhere near the same amount of blood as a human and the last thing he wanted to do was kill someone’s pet. People would notice if cats and dogs in one area turned up dead from blood loss.

Movement caught his eye and he turned towards the modest two storey brick and tile home, just in time to see the woman emerge from her bathroom. He stared at her, unable to look away. His eyes following her around her room like a love-sick puppy. 

She wore a well-worn old bathrobe. There was nothing sexy about the cotton robe with the pictures of cartoon pigs all over it. It didn’t detract from her beauty, but still, he longed to replace it with something more attractive. Something that better suited her. Something silky or satiny that hugged her figure. That showcased her feminine perfection.

It was late, and he knew from watching her for the last few nights that she was about to go to bed. Inching closer to the window, he crouched low on the roof tiles, his eyes following every move she made, as she slipped the robe off.

His lips curved up in a smile at the oversized t-shirt she wore underneath. She was so cute. She didn’t wear anything it seemed that didn’t have some kind of picture on the front, and this was no exception. The pale lilac t-shirt had a large black cat on the front. It had those huge sorrowful eyes, and its front paws were clasped together as if it were praying.

She yawned, stretching, and his eyes followed the movement as the fabric pulled over her breasts, revealing that her nipples were hard. Seeing them, instantly made him hard and he felt his palms twitch with the overwhelming desire to touch her, to cup her beautiful breasts in his hands.

He wanted her. God, he wanted her so much. He wanted to smell her. To touch and taste her. He wanted to sink his aching cock deep inside her and fuck her until he spilled inside her. The problem was of course; she had no idea he even existed.

If only he had the confidence to go to her shop and meet her. That would mean going out in the daytime but that was alright. He, like his four vampire brothers were marked so they could move around outside without igniting and burning away to nothing more than a pile of ash.

His fingers found their way to the mark on his right shoulder. The skin was raised and puckered from the picture of a sun that had been branded into it. It was more effective protection from the sun’s rays than the tattoos that Dominick, Allegra, and their vampire family all wore. From what he’d heard, they still felt the sting of the sun if they were exposed to it for long lengths of time. Eventually their skin would turn black, and their bodies would dry out until they resembled a weathered piece of driftwood.

Movement inside the bedroom drew his attention again and he turned to watch her climb into bed and then reach over to turn off her bedside light, plunging the room into darkness.

It might be dark for her and every other human, but it made no difference to him. His eyes immediately found her, and he sat, watching her, waiting for that sign to indicate she’d drifted off to sleep.

He could hear her breaths lengthen and deepen and he knew she was asleep. Still, he watched her. Listening to her breathe, and an idea began to formulate in his brain. It was risky but worth it if it got him closer to her.

One of the advantages of being what some referred to as a super vampire, or an elite vampire, was that he and his brothers didn’t need a human’s invitation to get inside their homes.

He was going to go to her. He was going to get inside her home. He was going to have her. Possess her. Make her his. He would use his abilities to come and go, and she would never know.

It was the only way in his mind. He was not like his brothers. They had gained a lot of confidence. Most had adjusted well to their new lifestyles. Well, except for Riccardo. He still had a lot of the basic animal in him.

Gideon was the youngest. He’d lost his human life to a crazy vampire who had torn through a tavern one evening, killing, and feeding from everyone. He’d left a trail of carnage in his wake, and he’d left Gideon, one of just a couple he actually turned, to survive on their own.

Vampire at just 23 years of age and not knowing what the hell was going on, he’d fled England and had made his way by whatever means he could to Italy, where he’d met up with other vampires like himself. It had been quite a learning curve for him. Vampires came in many shapes and forms. It turned out that he was one of the more superior ones and he’d enjoyed his quite primitive lifestyle for the past 153 years, using his abilities to hunt and feed, and fuck until the humans had found a way to control them with the Il Marchio Della Schiavitu. Or hunt them nearly to extinction.

Everything he knew; everything that was familiar was gone. They had been torn out of a lifestyle and country they knew. Groomed, educated, and conditioned to blend in without detection in their new country.

Adapting over the last year to living in a home with modern conveniences and basically being schooled to prepare for life in this new country had been challenging. It was imperative though, that they lived as normally as possible. They had to keep under the radar so to speak so no attention would be drawn to them and risk their presence being detected. Too many people either wanted to turn them into slaves or to kill them. Gideon had no desire to be either someone’s slave or to die the true and final death. 

All he wanted right now was to be inside with the beautiful woman who had captured his attention. He’d seen her quite by chance one evening. It appeared she’d been working late. It was well after dark, and all the surrounding businesses were closed. He’d just found someone to feed from and was wandering around, unsure what to do with himself next when she’d come out of the shop and locked up.

It was her hair that caught his eye first. Red. A really bright red in fact. It wasn’t that long, only just brushing her shoulders, but it was a riot of curls that framed her sweet face. Unlike many redheads, she didn’t have a single freckle on her from what he could see. Her skin was creamy and smooth, the classic peaches and cream complexion.

She was tiny. Slim. Delicate looking. But Gideon knew she was far from being as fragile as she appeared. He’d watched her in her business, carrying boxes around, climbing up and down as she made changes to the window displays.

She was graceful and feminine. Friendly and good natured. Everyone seemed to like her. He’d watched her talking to people in the businesses that surrounded hers. He’d seen the way her face lit up. Eyes bright, and teeth dazzling when she smiled or laughed.

He longed to get closer to her. To touch her. To kiss her. To have her smile at him the way she did that man in the small café where she bought her lunch each day.

He wanted to see her eyes up close to determine whether they were blue or green. He couldn’t see properly from his hiding places, but he suspected they were in fact a mix of both.

Her body was perfection to him. From her graceful neck to slim shoulders. Surprisingly generous breasts on a woman her size. A tiny waist he knew he would be able to span with his hands. Gently curving hips and thighs and those beautiful legs. Not that he saw them much since she seemed to mostly wear jeans during the day. But by night - when she was alone in her home. That was when he got to see her. Naked or barely clothed in her robes.

He had to have her. He needed to taste her. He was too shy to just approach her and talk. He’d only been in Australia a year and was still learning the ways of human life here. Maybe it was his youth that made him far more adaptable than his older brothers? He wanted to blend in. He wanted to be brave enough to talk to the gorgeous woman who had captured his interest, and he wanted to ease his constant ache for her, by finally getting to bury himself deep inside her.

Instinctively he knew it would be different with her. It would be different with all women here in this country. Modern women were not like women of his time. In Italy, fucking was little more than an animal urge. A necessity to survive. Vampires fucked to get off. There was no real concern in making it pleasurable for the woman.

Gideon had heard the other vampires talking. They were aware that women demanded more from sex now. Some of them saw it as a challenge to make the sex good for the women too. He heard them boasting of their sexual achievements. Not all of course. Riccardo still fucked mostly for his own enjoyment. He argued that it didn’t matter when they cleaned the minds of the women anyway. If they had no memory of the sex, then what did it matter whether they enjoyed it or not?

Staring into the darkened room, Gideon knew he wanted to be one of the vampires who gave his woman pleasure. He wanted to see her beautiful eyes glazed with desire. Hear her gasp when he first thrust into her. He wanted to hear her cries as she joined him in sweet release. This woman was not one to merely scratch an itch. He wanted far more than that from her.

He also didn’t want to wait any longer. An idea was forming, and it was risky, but oh so potentially rewarding. If he let himself into her home, he could use his veil of invisibility to watch her, to perhaps touch her. His mind considered other options and his cock immediately leapt to attention. It was tempting. So, tempting to take her as she slept.

He couldn’t though. It wouldn’t be right to take advantage of her like that. No, he would start small. He would simply sit in her bedroom and watch her sleep. At least he would finally be in the room with her.

He smiled to himself. His brothers would laugh at him for his behaviour, but he just wasn’t like them. He had no real confidence. That came from life before he’d been turned though. A life that was still so clear to him even after all these years of being vampire.

Turning him hadn’t changed the man he was. He still struggled with self-esteem issues and had very little self-confidence. His father had never cared about him. Neither had his mother. She’d been little more than the town’s prostitute. More interested in spreading her legs and taking care of the men than taking care of her own son.

Being too soft hearted had led to being taken advantage of by a woman who had hurt him terribly. She had mocked him, belittled him, and destroyed what little self-esteem he’d had.

Women were not the only ones who could be victims of emotional and physical abuse. He had suffered for years, and it was fear of being hurt again that held him back, but not anymore.

Standing up as quietly as he could - he leapt from the rooftop of the house - landing with all the athletic agility of a cat - dropping immediately into a crouch - just in case someone was still up in one of the surrounding homes and saw him.

Keeping low, he moved around her home looking for a way in and finally he found it. A tiny window to what he could just make out was a small powder room, consisting of a toilet at one end, and a vanity and mirror up the other end. The window was pushed open just a couple of inches and amazingly had no flyscreen on it, although a flyscreen wouldn’t stop him, it would just make his entry a bit slower.

With a quick glance around, to be sure no one was nearby who might see him, he stripped naked and pushed his clothes through the narrow gap of the open window. He left his shoes outside in the garden though. He wouldn’t need them inside.

Moving until he was nearly touching the brick wall of the house, he pictured the 11-foot boa constrictor in his mind, just before he felt the familiar stretching and shifting of his body as it began to change form.

Wincing against the discomfort, his teeth clenched hard, his face contorting as his bones began to change shape. His muscles tightened, shifting beneath his skin, which had begun to develop a scaly looking appearance. The ground rushed up as his legs retracted and his arms shrunk back into his body.

Still the pain held him in its grip while the change took place and he hissed, the sound no longer human. His tongue shot out, flicking up and down, forked now, as he tasted the air.

Silently he moved, powerful muscles propelling his limbless body across the ground until he reached the side of the house. Pushing upwards, he dragged his heavy body over the rough surface of the bricks until he reached the window, where he flattened out his long length, so he could slither in through the small opening. Lowering himself down onto the closed lid of the toilet and then to the floor, testing the taste and smells around him with his tongue.

Picturing himself as vampire again, he went through the quick, but painful process of shape shifting back to his human form. Hands clenched, he waited until the aching of muscles forced through the process of changing form, had eased. Once the pain settled, to little more than a dull throbbing, he quickly pulled his clothes on.

Barefoot, he left the powder room, his ears listening for any sound that would indicate the woman was not alone in the house or that she had any animals that might freak out and alert her to his presence. 

He walked down a corridor, ignoring the open doorways that ran off either side of it. His goal was to find the staircase which would lead him to her. A floorboard creaked under his weight, and he froze, listening for anything that might indicate she’d heard it. When there was no change in her even breathing, he continued walking.

Rounding a corner, the staircase rose before him, and he began the climb up the five stairs that paused at a single landing before curving off to the right and climbing five more.

At the top he hesitated, lifting his head so he could sniff the air. His heightened vampire senses easily finding her. Her sweet scent teased his nostrils and smiling to himself, he moved towards the smell, letting his nose lead him to her. To her enticing vanilla scent.

When he finally stood in her doorway, his eyes drifted towards the bed and he got his first real look at her without the barrier of her window. Slowly, terrified he’d wake her, but desperate to be close to her, he tiptoed to the bed, his eyes fixed on her face. God, she was beautiful. Even with her features relaxed and softened by sleep, he couldn’t look away.

Her hair was a tangled mess around her head and across her pillow. Her lips parted slightly, and he could see she was dreaming by the rapid movement of her eyes beneath her eyelids. Long lashes fanned her cheeks. Cheeks that looked a little flushed. As he watched, those perfect almost pouty lips of hers parted even more. Forming an ‘O’ and the tiniest sound emerged. A low, throaty moan.

It wasn’t much. It was so low, so soft, it was little more than a gasp, but accompanied by a restless movement of her head, the sound was like a direct connection to his dick, and it began to harden in response.

Her body shifted. Her movements restless as she rolled from one side to the other and back. She moaned again. Another one of those throaty moans, and curiosity over her behaviour made him step closer to the bed.

When she groaned louder he jumped back in surprise, waiting anxiously to see if she was waking but she didn’t, although he could see the movement of her legs shifting restlessly beneath the doona that covered her.

She was doing something. Something besides being in the grip of what looked like a dream. Even when she settled momentarily, he could see fluttering movements beneath the bedding. Frowning he shifted even closer, leaning down to study the tiny rise and fall of the fluffy doona.

The faintest scent hit him. A scent mixed in with the vanilla fragrance that surrounded her. The moment realisation hit him, he felt his erection go from firm to an iron bar within the confines of his jeans. She was touching herself.

Wincing, Gideon tried to adjust himself, to get some relief. His cock felt like it was being strangled. These modern clothes didn’t really have an aroused man in mind when someone designed them. The material was rough and unforgiving on his erection, and although he could have worn underwear, another thing popular in modern society, he preferred to go without. He’d never worn it and he had no desire to start now.

In Italy, he’d worn loose-fitting clothing. Pants that hung from his hips. Pants that didn’t constrict him or squeeze his cock the way these jeans did. Clothing was simple, basic, comfortable. Clothing here was nicer looking. Everywhere he went, he saw people dressed in clothes that were far more flattering to the figure than anything he or his brothers had worn.

This woman always looked beautiful. She wore jeans daily for work. He loved to watch the way the fabric hugged her body. She always wore them so tight. Tight enough that it allowed him to imagine what she would look like out of those jeans. Right now, he wanted out of his. He needed to ease the pressure on his poor manhood. It felt like it was being crushed and constricted.

Another moan from the bed drew his focus back to her and he couldn’t take it any longer. He had to see what she was doing. To see her and touch her. He wanted her. It was that simple. Who wouldn’t? To him, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Staring down at her, it suddenly hit him. He knew exactly how he could take her and make it, so she didn’t even realise. He would use his invisibility and convince her she was dreaming him. Her pleasure, everything and anything that transpired, would be passed off as nothing more than a dream. 

Closing his eyes, he felt the familiar rush through his body just before he disappeared. It was always a strange feeling to be invisible, because it wasn’t real. He and his brothers didn’t technically disappear. It was more like a subterfuge. A ruse. A veil, that shrouded them. Making them invisible to anyone around them.

He felt a slight heaviness settle over him. That was the effect of the veil or shroud. Glancing down, it never failed to surprise him to see nothing of himself. Even his clothing was invisible. Concealed and hidden by the veil.

It would be impossible to explain to someone what it felt like to still feel everything around him. To lift his hand and turn it over so his palm was facing up. To move his arms and legs. To curl his fingers into a fist but not be able to visibly see any movements he made.

He didn’t need to see what he was doing to reach for the button and zipper of his jeans. It was a welcome relief to carefully lower it and allow the swollen length of his cock some freedom from the restrictive denim.

Stripping as quietly as possible, he gathered up his clothes and placed them just outside the bedroom doorway. Lowering them to the floor, he watched as they reappeared once his body was away from them.

This was incredibly risky. Gideon knew that. Not only would Christiano give him hell if he got caught. He didn’t want to think about what Dominick would do or Fabian, the vampire who ruled over them all, if this ended badly.

He’d heard the talk of what Fabian was capable of. He would kill without hesitation if he thought it might endanger the rest of them. But even knowing that, he couldn’t walk away from the woman in the bed. The woman pleasuring herself in her sleep. Seeing her doing that was too much of a temptation. More of a temptation than the punishment he faced if this ended badly for him.

Naked and invisible, Gideon walked to the side of the bed, bending down to study the face of the beautiful redhead. This close to her, the scent of her shampoo filled his nostrils when he breathed deeply. Over the vanilla of her shampoo, the sweetness of her arousal teased his senses. Smelling her need fuelled his, and he palmed his cock. Sliding his fist up and down it just once as he watched her.

Driven by a mix of curiosity and desire, he reached for the doona that covered her. Curling his fingers around the edge of it, he slowly and carefully began to lower it. With every inch, more of her was revealed to him and finally he got his first closeup look at her in that oversized purple shirt with the cat on it. There was nothing even remotely sexy about it, but it didn’t matter to him. Just being this close to her was a feast for his senses.

As more of her was revealed to him, he could see the t-shirt had worked its way up to a tangled mess of fabric around her hips. It took every ounce of control Gideon had not to groan out aloud when he saw her hand between her legs. Her fingers buried inside a pair of delicate lace panties she wore.

Women’s undergarments had come a long way from what they’d been when he was still human. A woman was swathed in numerous layers of clothes and her panties covered her from waist to knee. Pantaloons were considered sexy in his day, but this, these that this beautiful woman wore, were enough to drive a man close to insanity with his need.

They were white. A mix of satin and lace. And they barely covered her at all. The fabric was thin. So thin he could see the shape of her fingers moving beneath them. Her hand blocked him from being able to see anything beyond that, and he found himself wondering if she had pubic hair or not. Although the norm for his era, it seemed the modern women preferred to be entirely bare of hair. Or to keep it to little more than a narrow strip.

Watching her, he was suddenly curious to find out what lay behind the white fabric and those fingers that seemed to be moving with restless energy over her delicate flesh.

Much as he longed to touch her. To lay his hands on her and explore every feminine curve. To dip his fingers into her panties and follow the path of her hand, he couldn’t. Not yet.

He needed to put her into a state of mind control. Normally that was done when the human was awake, and they made eye contact. He knew that was the way it worked with Fabian and Dominick’s family. Gideon was different though, as were his brothers. They could communicate telepathically when necessary. And they could mind control. Or use a form of mind suggestion by words alone. No eye contact, necessary.

Lowering himself until his lips were against the shell of her ear, he began to speak to her in a hushed monotone.

You’re dreaming. It’s a sexy dream. There’s a man who comes to you at night. You don’t know if he’s real or if he’s a ghost. He lies between your thighs, and he pushes his big hard dick inside you, and it makes you feel good. You’re not sure if he’s really there, but it doesn’t matter because you like what he’s doing to you. Now take your hand out of your panties and let me see you.

He leaned back and waited, his excitement rising when he saw her do as he asked. She frowned, a tiny whimper passing her lips and for a moment, just the tiniest of moments, her eyes opened staring blankly up at him. Of course, she couldn’t see him. He was invisible to her.

Gideon slipped his fingers inside the satin and lace. Pushing the delicate fabric to the side. The sight of her partially exposed to him and the feel of the humid heat coming off her pussy made a groan begin to rumble its way up his throat. He managed to suppress it, but he couldn’t control his fangs. They descended, and his excitement rose. God, he wanted inside her. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to fuck her and taste her and not stop until he’d relieved the pressure building in his balls.

He wanted to fill her. To watch his cum leak from her. And suddenly desperate to get inside her, he pulled his fingers free of her panties and began to work the satin and lace down her legs.

She shifted slightly. Her head rolling from side to side. Her legs parting. At the sight of her all wet and gleaming - her pussy lips plump from her arousal - he bit down on his lip so hard - he punctured the lower one with his fangs. Two drops of blood spilled from the ravaged skin to the sheet between the woman’s slim thighs. He frowned at the sight of it. He might be invisible, but his blood wasn’t.

Ignoring the small scarlet spots, Gideon carefully climbed onto the bed, positioning his body so he straddled hers. The sight of her under him was a temptation he fought to control. He wanted to lie down on her. To feel her skin against his. Her breasts pressed against his chest. Her thighs touching his. His cock between those thighs, so near and yet so far from the warm, welcoming heat of her pussy. 

He wanted her. He wanted to be inside her, desperately. He wanted to learn more about pleasuring a woman. But this was not the time. This time he would just take her. Fuck her, while she was asleep and influenced by the mind suggestion he’d used on her.

What’s your name? He whispered. He needed a name to put to her beautiful face. A name that he could call out when alone and taking himself in hand.

Zoe. The one word was spoken so softly, it came to him as little more than a gentle breath from her parted lips. It was such a tiny sound. The briefest hint of her sweet voice, but it lit him up inside and tugged at his silent heart.

Lowering his body to hers, his hands came up to either side of her face, his thumbs gently stroking the incredibly smooth skin of her cheeks. His eyes traced the outline of her parted lips, and he felt her sweet breaths against his own.

This close, he could smell her blood. Hear the steady beat of her heart and he felt the familiar desire rise in him. Not just his desire to take her. To fill her with his cock, but the desire to taste her. To sample her life force which he instinctively knew would be the sweetest blood he’d ever tasted.

Settling over her, he shifted his hips, his cock slipping between her thighs, and he felt the dampness of her pussy against the tip. Fighting the need to plunge into her, he dropped his lips to her ear.

My beautiful Zoe. You are mine. I want you. I am going to take you and you won’t know if this is real or a dream.

With a low moan, he angled his hips, pushing the hard length of his cock into her, fighting to stop himself from crying out her name when her warm heat closed around him, holding him in a snug embrace.

She was everything he’d imagined and more. Tight and hot, and wet. He needed to move, but part of him wanted to freeze this moment. To stay inside her. So still. Simply savouring the feel of her.

He dropped his nose to her bright hair. Smelling the vanilla scent of her shampoo, and with his grip tightening on her, he began to thrust with slow, steady thrusts in and out of her.

Chapter Two

Present Day

Zoe

He came to me in my dreams. Well, at least I think it was a dream. It had to be, surely? But then again, perhaps he was a ghost? No, a dream. I had to be dreaming this. But damn, it felt so real. I could smell him. Hear him and feel him deep inside me. Filling me with every delicious plunge of his hips which drove his large cock deeper into me. I knew it was large because I felt so stretched, so totally filled. So, stretched I swear, I could barely breathe from the feeling of him inside me.

God, he was deep. His body lighting up mine and he wasn’t even trying. There had been no foreplay. No real effort made to prepare me for his invasion, but it didn’t matter. He was in me. Fucking me and it felt amazing.

This was why I felt sure he had to be the man of my dreams: literally. His possession of my body was raw and primal. He took me like he couldn’t survive another moment unless he was buried deep inside me. He took me like a man possessed. Driven and full of lustful intent. He fucked me the way I fantasised about being fucked. With a desperation and need that consumed him and made him want me too impatiently to spend time on foreplay. He made me feel wanted. He made me feel sexy and desirable. He simply: made me feel.

I could smell him. His scent was unlike anything I’d smelt before. I couldn’t even describe it really. There was nothing I could think of to compare it to, but it didn’t matter, he smelt simply divine.

I could hear him. Not his breaths. There was nothing like that. But I could hear his low moans. His quiet curses as though he was trying to be quiet or suppress his desire. But most of all, I could hear the gentle sound of skin slapping against skin.

His movements picked up. His hips driving faster. Pushing him deeper and I felt him everywhere. Filling me. Grazing my g-spot. Touching against the entrance to my womb and I moaned. My hands rising. Reaching for him. Wanting to hold him.

I felt cool skin and muscles beneath my fingers. Hard muscles. Muscles that flexed and bunched under my touch. Muscles that worked as he thrust in me.

They fascinated me. They tempted and teased me, and like a person without sight, I brushed my hand over them, tracing them. Letting my fingers feather over his cool skin. Working them higher until I felt hair. It was long which surprised me, and with my control unravelling beneath my dream man, I curled my fingers into his mane. Fisting the silky strands. Tugging on them. Using them like an anchor. Using them to ground me while this beautifully detailed fantasy played out in my mind.

Oh. I cried out when he thrust even harder, so hard it almost hurt. I felt like I was going to orgasm, but I’d had no stimulation. No foreplay. Nothing I normally needed to tip me over the edge into ecstasy. I was going to come from his cock alone, and that would be a first. A first that hit me like a tsunami. Plunging me headlong into the most intense, heavenly experience of my life.

Crying out - my back bowing - my fingers tightening in the long hair I could feel - my orgasm tore through me – sending shards of toe curling – spine tingling – complete and utter blissful pleasure through me.

Vaguely, during the midst of my own nirvana I heard a sound come from him. It wasn’t loud, but it was a definite guttural groan that turned me on even more, causing my fingers to claw at the smooth skin I felt on the back of my dream man.

He was pulsing inside me. His cock jerking. Like the beat of a heart. Moving in time as each jet of cum shot from him and into me and I sighed, loving the feel of him filling me. His release the validation that he was experiencing the same level of gratification as I was.

Lips brushed mine. Cool. Soft. A mere feather light touch, and I tried to capture his, but he moved. Or maybe it was just that he wasn’t here? That this was my dream. Or he was a figment of my imagination. I didn’t know. I couldn’t think. I was still caught up in the aftershocks of pleasure that radiated through me. Shooting through my body like mini lightning strikes. Recharging my nerve endings and senses as if determined to never allow me to come down from my orgasm.

Something nuzzled into my neck. Something sharp. Grazing my sensitive skin. I sighed. My sigh becoming a cry when I felt pain. Pain that became sharper and more intense. The pain and pressure increased. It was almost too much to bear, but then I felt something pop, followed by a pulling sensation. Through that strange feeling, I heard it, the sound of sucking and swallowing.

I frowned, confused by the turn of my dream. The sucking and swallowing continued. It was a strange feeling. It hurt, but it didn’t. In fact, it was causing a tugging and pulling sensation between my legs. Deep inside me. My body responded. The pain disappeared, and the pleasure began. Oh, my fucking god. It built up in me. Intense. Powerful. It was beyond anything I’d ever experienced, and with a loud, almost startled cry, another orgasm ripped through me. Consuming me. Radiating out through me until I felt almost battered, exposed. Unable to do anything more than lie there while the whole of me was controlled by the most exquisite pleasure.

I’d barely panted and cried my way through that orgasm when another one followed it. Not quite as intense as its predecessor but still enough to leave me floating, incapable of doing anything but absorb all that I was feeling.

Lips brushed mine again and I felt him withdraw from my body. The slide of his rigid length leaving my highly sensitised flesh caused me to clench and pulse around him, as if reluctant to let him go. But he did. His weight lifting off my body as I reached for him. My hands groping at nothing and my eyes searching in the inky blackness of my room. Leaving me in a momentary state of confusion. Where I wasn’t sure if I was awake or still dreaming this. I wanted him back. I wanted my dream man or my ghost or whatever the hell that just was. I wanted it back.

Remember me sweet, sweet Zoe. His voice came to me as little more than a whisper. Fingers touching my neck briefly. They felt real. Surely, they were real? But then they were gone again, before I could reach for them. Now sleep. The change in his tone sounded more commanding, and with a soft sigh I did as he asked, drifting off to sleep. A deep, dreamless sleep.

I really need to get a boyfriend. I moaned to my best friend April, dropping my head in my hands. I had that dream again. God, I don’t understand it. I mean, I know it’s been a dry spell for a while now, but I’ve had that same dream for four nights in a row. I sighed. Four nights, and you know what the scary thing is? I asked, not waiting for her to answer before I continued. It feels so real. It really does feel like someone is making love to me. I whispered the last bit. Almost as if I was sharing top secret information and I was afraid someone might overhear me. But there was no one around. April and I were on our own.

Well, I guess that just proves you have a really vivid imagination. She grinned at me. You always have. Ever since we were in kindergarten together. She leaned in closer. It might simply be a case of you needing to get laid so badly, you’re imagining you are. She cupped her hand to her mouth and lowered her voice. I could see the twinkle in her eye, so I knew she wasn’t going to come up with anything particularly useful to me.

You know what they say? Think it. Dream it and they will come. She grinned. And. If you’re really lucky and he’s really good, you’ll get to come too.

I shot my friend a withering look. You’re so full of shit, and not helpful at all. I need sensible suggestions as to what this all means. My imagination is good, but I don’t think it’s that good. There must be a logical explanation for this. Somewhere. Surely?

Well, what other explanation is there? Do you think some man drops by your home each evening? Fucks you senseless. Then rides off into the moonlight? She grinned. Now if that’s the case. Sign me up. I want one too. So, are we talking like some sort of superhero? The Deliverer of Orgasms? She thrust a fist into the air, her brows drawing together in a deep frown. In a stern, almost masculine sounding voice she proclaimed.

He appears at night. He swoops in. His x-ray vision detecting any sexually frustrated women. He spears her with his mighty penis. Makes her come. Then disappears into the night, happy in the knowledge he’s done his good deed and saved another fair maiden who hasn’t been laid in a hell of a long time.

Oh, you are hilarious today, aren’t you? I poked my tongue out at her. Seriously though, something is odd about it all. I... I stopped, my eyes darting nervously from side to side. I’ve never had a dream where I wake up sore. I kind of hissed the words at her, my eyes dropping to where my hands were clasped on my lap.

April frowned. Confusion swirling in her hazel eyes. What do you mean by sore? Sore what?

I felt colour heat up my cheeks. This conversation was getting into Awkward Ville now. Down there. I tilted my head to try an indicate between my thighs. Jerking it several times as if to make a point.

If anything, April looked even more confused. Or maybe she was just trying to embarrass me. It was easy enough to do after all. Being a redhead with the classic pale complexion, I would go red as a tomato if I was embarrassed, like now.

Down there? She stared at me for a moment. Is that a nervous tic you have?

Bloody hell April. I finally snapped with frustration. My girly bits. I’m talking about my girly bits.

The frown lifted instantly from her forehead just before her eyes widened and her lips formed a perfect ‘O’. Oh...oh my god. The surprise faded, and the humour was back. Girly bits? Really Zoe. You’re 26 years old. You’ve had sex before and you still can’t say pussy, fanny, vagina, cunt or even vajayjay? Are you sure you don’t want to call it a lady garden and we’ll send some sexy gentleman around to plough it for you? Maybe you need a horticulturist and not a man? She erupted into a bout of laughter, again at my expense.

If you don’t shut up, I’ll make sure yours isn’t just ploughed, I’ll get an aerator onto it as well.

April’s eyes flashed again. Ooh, do you promise? When she saw my expression though, her smile disappeared. Ok, I’m sorry. I’ll be serious now. So, tell me. What’s the problem with your, she coughed, girly bits?

It hurts. Every morning since I’ve been having the dreams, I wake sore. I swear I feel like someone who’s had sex. It doesn’t make sense. I’m in bed and asleep. So, it can’t be real. Unless I’m sleepwalking. Or some man is sleepwalking into my home each night and fucking me before sleepwalking back to wherever the hell he came from. I cringed, aware my theories sounded completely ridiculous but nothing about any of this made sense.

April shook her head at me. Her expression a mix of amusement and amazement. Really Zoe? So first it was a good Samaritan coming at night to service you and now it’s a sleepwalker? Well, it could be worse. It could be a serial killer who sleepwalks. Being fucked is a better option than having your throat cut. Unless of course, he fucks really badly and then you’d probably want to cut your own throat anyway. She fell silent for a moment, and I braced myself for another round of her teasing kind of sarcasm. Finally, her eyes shot open wide, and she gave me a look like she’d just won the lottery.

Wait a minute. It could still be a serial killer. But instead of using a knife, he uses his dick and if he’s bad at it, you will feel like you’re being fucked to death. She gave me a small nod of her head. There. My work is done. You can thank me now.

Thanks. I said. My voice dripping with sarcasm. Can I continue, or do you have more of your amazing inciteful suggestions?

Aw, I’m sorry. She shot me a contrite look. Please continue. You said you’re sore. Seriously though Zoe, are you sure you’re not masturbating in your sleep and getting a bit rough about it? You’re not slipping B.O.B out of his hidey hole and into your hidey hole as you sleep, are you?

So much for a serious conversation. I shot her another one of my withering looks. To be fair, I had considered that myself. That I was masturbating in my sleep, but that doesn’t explain... I dropped my voice to nothing more than a whisper. There’s discharge involved and I’m not talking just from me. It’s not much, but it’s there, and it looks like cum. I know I haven’t had sex in a long time. Not since Aaron. But my memory isn’t so bad that I’ve forgotten what it looks like.

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