Her Christmas Wish

“It’s you,” she repeats back to me. I reach my hand down to help her up off the floor.

“I’m Brett Sleighton and you are?” I ask, my curiosity peaked. How is this possible? My dream girl is somehow in my house.

“Hannah Hollybaker. You’ve never asked me my name before,” she breathes, moving about an inch from me. Weird, this house is called Hollybaker Manor, I think to myself. I put that from my mind for now.

“I haven’t?” I ask.

“No, normally at this point, you’re already inside of me,” she says, dragging the fingers of her left hand down my chest and abs. Her words remind me of my dreams. She isn’t wrong. Most of my dreams don’t ever have us speaking unless it’s filthy talk. Suddenly, I begin to think that I’ve fallen asleep downstairs and am in the middle of a dream.

Without thinking, I lean down and take her lips with mine. She responds to the kiss like we’ve been doing this forever, and I guess in a way we have been doing this forever. She pulls back from me and reaches down to her thighs and uses both hands to pull the nightgown up slowly. Eventually, she whips it over her head and tosses it. I watch it sail across the room and land with a whoosh.

“Brett,” she breathes. The first time she says my name tingles go down my spine like I am about to come without a single touch. My cock hardens in my shorts and I wrench them down and kick them away. She licks her lips and looks at my hard-on like she’s about to devour it.

Suddenly, she jumps up in my arms and I have to catch her. My hands tighten on her lush ass and her legs wrap around my waist. My cock is thick on her lower belly.

“Hannah,” I growl.

“Take me. Claim me. Own me like you always do,” she breathes placing kisses all over my face. “This feels different this time.”

“It does.” If this is a dream, I don’t ever want to wake up. For some reason, I know that I have to take her to my bed. I carry her down the stairs, and into my room. I toss her gently on the bed. This is fast, but if it’s a dream, I am ready to get to the good stuff. As crazy as it seems, I started having dreams about her when I was thirteen. I knew she was the one for me, the one woman I would love forever, so I refused to allow myself to seek comfort with women who weren’t her. I am prepared to wait for the rest of my life to actually find her.

If dreams are the only place I can have her, so be it.

Chapter 3

Hannah

I can’t figure out why everything feels so different. I can actually smell his cologne and hear insects outside the window. Did a dog just bark? This is my parent’s room, but nothing is the same. There’s no fainting couch. Their two small beds have been replaced by one giant one. I want to know what’s going on, but I don’t want to stop what’s about to happen between us.

He crawls on the bed between my spread thighs. He kisses up my body starting at my ankles. His fingers follow suit. He avoids my lady bits altogether. Maybe in this dream, he doesn’t like it. My mind goes blank as his wet mouth finally encircles my taut nipple. Moving away from my breast, he finds my lips again. His kisses are quite amazing. I can feel them in my toes. He leans back and pulls my legs up so that they rest around his hips. He grips the appendage from between his legs and glides it through the wetness that has gathered between my thighs.

“Is your pussy ready for my cock, Hannah?” he demands.

“What?” I ask in confusion. I think I know what he’s talking about, but I’ve never heard those terms before. He looks at me weirdly before answering me.

“My cock,” he says shaking his thick, menacing-looking appendage. I definitely don’t remember dreaming about that. “Your pussy,” he says running a finger through my folds. Yes, yes. I want that. I need that.

“Oh,” I giggle. “Yes. I am ready,” I tell him, committing the terms to memory. He drags his cock through my wetness before slamming into me. “Holy God,” I shout as pain sears through me. He takes my virginity savagely, like he didn’t know it would be there. He pauses his movements and looks down at me.

“I am not asleep,” he groans.

“Me either,” I agree.

“Fuck. Your pussy is so tight. When I dreamt of you, it was never like this,” he says pulling himself out of me.

“I dreamt of you too,” I tell him. “Where are we?” My confusion goes through the roof. How is this possible? I rack my brain trying to figure it out, but it’s no use.