“A man comes into my room and… and it’s like I can’t resist him.He’s the total opposite of the sort of men I am usually attracted to.He’s not sensitive or poetic or good at long, meaningful conversations.He’s dark, and he talks dirty.It—it feels as if he’s possessive of me without me giving him any reason to be.”
It’s quite satisfying to see that Shadow is no longer smiling.He looks serious.He’s definitely not getting off on this, so I continue.
“I think I have dreamed like that before since I arrived here.But I can’t be sure.It’s like being stuck in a spiderweb every time I wake up, as if these sticky strands of the dream are still clinging to me before I can break away.”
Shadow’s fingers begin to stroke my feet and ankles as he listens.It’s very comforting and ever-so-slightly erotic, too.
“Now, before you came to visit tonight, I think I can remember some of what the dark man was saying to me.He… he called me names, like an insult.Tainted blood.And—” I close my eyes as I try to remember.“And vile descendent.”
The blush rises as I keep my eyes averted.It is such a relief to get this off my chest, like a heavy weight dragging me down.
“But his presence is intoxicating to me.It’s like I’m halfway to my own personal heaven just from him being there!I get turned on when he tells me he likes to watch… you know, me playing with myself.I think I must cry in my sleep.”
Shadow’s deep voice interjects into my ramblings.“Why do you cry?”
Opening my eyes, I lock my gaze on him.
“I want him to penetrate me.As a woman, I find that my orgasms are better—more intense—when I’m being penetrated.”Sighing, I have to turn away as a look of concern flashes over Shadow’s face.“I don’t expect a man to understand.”
For one morbid moment, I think he’s going to scoff at me and then walk out in disgust.I’m waiting for that humiliation to happen.
But he stays by my side.
Tears of relief slide down my cheeks.“That’s why I thought it was you in the dream, Shadow.Your hair was pitch black the first night we met.You might be that dark man in my dreams.”
I say it as if his hair color is some kind of an excuse for me to have such lavishly sexual dreams about him.Damn, but this is so not cool what he requested me to do.Dreams are private.
He leans closer and gently brushes the tears off my cheeks with one finger.He does it slowly and all the while he stares at my face, in the same way someone would if they were finger-painting a pretty picture.
“Doesn’t it feel better to share that with me?Would you like me to share some of my own sexual dreams?We all have them—at least those of us who long for intimacy with someone special do.”
His suggestion jogs my memory.Giving a small sniff, I shake my head.
“That would be a hard ‘no,’ but thanks, Shadow.I’ve just gotten out of a relationship and I’m in no hurry to start another one.Celia mentioned something about the Riders having wives and girlfriends on the mainland.”
The way I say it, he can tell it’s not a question.
One slanted eyebrow rises up.“Women on the mainland, yes.Wives, no.We ride free, coming and going as we please.”
“With the emphasis on ‘coming,’ I’ll bet.”That's typical of me, cracking a joke to lighten the mood.I plow on with my next question before he can protest against my assumption.“Why is your logo different now?”
The question catches him off guard.He looks down at his t-shirt and then pulls the hem to straighten the design.
“Different?”
“Yes.”Call me crazy, but I can’t resist.Scooching closer so that my knees are draped over his lap, I dare to trace the logo outline with my finger.The tip tingles as I feel the hard muscle of his pects underneath the soft cotton.
“This says ‘Midnight Son’ with the image of the mountain and the moon.But the logo on the back of your other jacket said something different.”
My belly flips when he lifts me up with no effort at all and then places me on his lap.
Here I am, as comfortable as can be, straddling Shadow Sylva as if he’s some sexy motorcycle!
Our faces are only inches apart.We are so close that I notice the slight flare of his nostrils as he inhales.His dark lashes, so good at hiding his emotions, lower over his electric blue eyes.
I cannot resist touching his disheveled, dirty-blond hair.He lets me run my fingers through it, and the image of a tame lion flashes through my mind.As fascinating as I found Dante to be when he had black hair, I am loving this new, improved version even more.
But he wants us to get back to business.
