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Dreams and nightmares are like twilight; that misty place between fantasy and reality.
When your mind takes you on an adventure you didn’t sign up for and you become someone or something else, it can be delectable, terrifying, or both.
Dreaming of that sexy bad boy who seems out of reach? Be careful what you wish for, sometimes dreams really do come true. If you have the time, we have the past life to seduce you. Whether your fantasy is a lustful mermaid, an irresistible incubus, a vampiric predator, or an insatiable ghost hold on tight. You are on the most erotic ride of your life.
When your desires blend so thoroughly with the truth that you don’t know the difference, that’s when romance is but a dream.
Sofie is a singer, baker and a serious planner. When she finds her rocker boyfriend up against the wall in a vocal booth with a back-up singer, her five-year plan for a home and family is dubbed over like a bad music track.
Gray, a lusty ghost who acts like she is his long-dead fiancée invades her dreams and works her body over, night and after night. It isn’t long before Sofie’s plans include her beguiling lover, a ghost man with a plan of his own; be with me. Nice plan if you call that living…
He came up behind her at the island as she was kneading dough for the beignets.
The spacious kitchen should have been cold in the middle of the night but the hard body against her back enveloped her in warmth. She curled into him. At five-foot-four, her head only reached his chest. His pecs were a firm pillow.
In the seductive veil of the dream, her peripheral vision blurred so that she felt more than she saw. The only light on in the kitchen was the overhead light which pulsed above them. A thought teased her consciousness that maybe it was not the overhead light at all, but something more.
“Ah, Sweet Sofie.” He shifted until he was nestled between her legs. “I am drawn to you like a moth to a flame.” His arms came over her and as he helped her knead the dough, his shaft slid in and out between her legs.
She sighed her pleasure and leaned her head against his chest. Watching his big hands over hers with flecks of the flour and sugar mixture coating the hair on his knuckles was an erotic vision of teamwork. She wondered how those hands would feel as they kneaded her flesh.
Their hands worked in time to the rhythm of his slide, in and out. Their fingers clenched onto the mound of dough as he pushed forward, and released as he slid out from between her thighs. Their heavy breathing was the only sound as they clenched and released, clenched and released…
A lazy heat flared between her legs, warming her to the core and making her hips rock back and forth. Her legs were giving way and she spread them wider to stay upright. She stopped kneading the dough to lean over and hold onto the island.
He grabbed her hair, wrapping it around his hand so that she had to lean her head back against him. “Don’t stop,” his gentle scolding tickled her ear. “I have not had a decent beignet
since I arrived in these United States.” He released her hair and pressed closer. She was now trapped between the island and his lean hips. “I’ll hold you up.” His low chuckle was a hot vibration between her thighs.
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