Thunder rumbled around the small living room, seeming to shake the ceiling, floor, and walls. A streak of lightning glowed at the window, flashing and burning bright as if trying to set light to the curtains. On the mantel, the flame atop a candle quivered as another gust of wind tumbled down the chimney.
Marie Linnet tugged her dark green robe around herself. Storms gave her the creeps. It was past midnight but she didn’t think she could sleep through it. With the rain pounding at the window—or was it hail?—there would be little rest until the ferocious weather passed.
The fire in the grate had long since gone out, but despite being cold she didn’t want to light it again.
I should go to bed and pray I get some rest.
She cupped her hand behind the candle and blew it out. She then flicked off the small table lamp beside the sofa, and left the room as another roar of thunder ripped from the sky.
Once upstairs, she brushed her teeth, cleansed and moisturized and hung up her dressing gown on the back of the bathroom door.
She kneeled beside her single bed, clasped her hands together and thanked God for everything in her life she was grateful for.
Climbing beneath the covers, she shivered. Most of the time she didn’t mind living alone, or that she’d never found a man to share her life with, but on chilly nights, and with a storm which sounded as if the devil himself had created it, she wouldn’t have been opposed to having a man’s warm body to snuggle up to.
She didn’t bother to turn the bedside lamp on as she’d left her current read at work. It was a paperback she’d found in the charity shop, a soppy romance, but it passed the time while she was waiting for her boss to find her something to do. She often wondered why he bothered having a personal assistant. He was such a control freak he barely allowed her to do anything. But that suited her, it meant she could read to her heart’s content and get paid for it. She wouldn’t complain about the situation if he didn’t.
Pulling the covers up around her neck, she stared at the ceiling. It was doused in shadows but when another flash of lightning attacked the room, it was as bright as day, highlighting a dust mote which stretched from the pink tasseled lampshade to the Artex.
Another shiver attacked her belly, winding its way up to her shoulders. There were houses either side of hers, homes full of people, nice people, her neighbors. But still, with the storm so violent, so malevolent, her small terraced house could have been alone at the top of a hill, being shaken by the wind, and a target for an electrical strike.
She closed her eyes, putting the image of the lone house from her mind.
You’re safe, Marie. Go to sleep.
Lying flat on her back, she stretched her legs out straight and rested her hands over her abdomen, her usual sleeping position. The sheets were cool and smelled of fabric conditioner, her one pillow was slim and meant her neck didn’t ache when she woke.
She closed her eyes, then immediately had to contend with another white-hot flash searing over her lids. She swallowed, determined not to let her dislike of storms spark an adrenaline surge because that really would be detrimental to her chances of getting any rest.
Many years ago a friend had taught her some meditation techniques. Breathing in slowly through the nose, then out through the mouth. She did that now, filling her chest with air, and then pursing her lips as she blew out. She tried to clear her mind as she repeated the action by counting to three on the inhale and again on the exhale. It wasn’t as though her thoughts were frantic, they were just too focused on the war in the sky raging above her.
Another roll of thunder clattered overhead, shaking the windowpane not five feet away.
She breathed in, then slowly out.
An image of a man appeared in her mind. It wasn’t anyone she knew, nor a famous movie star or singer. He was tall with broad shoulders, a trim waist and long, lean legs. He wore a smart black tuxedo complete with bow tieone of her favorite things to see a man dressed init even had the silky black stripes on the legs of the pants, and was obviously an exquisite cut.
She continued her deep breaths in, her throat filling with air, her ribs expanding, then out, deflating, resting.
His face was clear in her mind’s eye. Clean-shaven, not bearded as so many men were keen on now, which wasn’t to her taste. Sharp, angular features; no bump in his nose, and neither too big jawed nor too narrow. His mouth was full and sensual, and his eyes so dark it was impossible to tell the difference between pupil and iris. His eyebrows and his hair matched his eyes, jet-black, not a hint of gray, and despite being neatly trimmed and brushed she could see it was thick and soft.
Her fingers tingled. She wanted to touch his hair, see if it felt as silky as she imagined.
A particularly loud clap of thunder interrupted her breathing rhythm, and as the accompanying lightning invaded her eyelids again, the man she’d created smiled.
For a moment she held her breath, stunned by his beauty and how real he felt before her, then she remembered to breathe.
The smile was mesmerizing, as if a light was glowing from him, a light that could rival any bolt of lightning the devil’s storm produced.
A warmth attacked her; it started in her belly and fanned up to her chest, over her slight breasts and into her nipples. They tightened beneath her cotton nightgown and the pleasant sensation produced a smile on her own lips.
This seemed to please the man in her imagination and his smile widened, showing perfect white teeth and balling his cheeks a little.
She realized she was falling asleep, despite the storm. The meditation technique was working. Relaxing further, she allowed herself to fall into what promised to be a very nice dream. The sooner she left reality, and the weather, the better.
“That’s it,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “Drift away, my love.”
“I am…” Her languid state deepened, her body heavy and sinking into the mattress. But she stayed with her dream, her concentration firmly on the man.
“Good, that’s it,” he said, coming closer. “There is nothing to fear.”
“I know.” Her nipples were still tingling, and a tickling sensation was fluttering between her legs.
“Do you like what you see?” he asked.
“It’s all for you.” He reached for the button on his jacket and undid it, then the next and the next. With graceful movements he shrugged it off and let it slip from his fingers to the floor.
A little piece of her wanted to tell him not to do that with such an expensive, likely Savile Row jacket, but the sight of his white shirt, stretching over his chest and shoulders stole her words. She could even make out his small dark nipples beneath the material.
“I like what I see too,” he said, his gaze drifting over her and his eyelids becoming a little heavy.
His gaze made her feel naked, but also beautiful and feminine. He was looking at her the way she’d only ever dreamed of a man looking at her.
“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Marie.”
“What’s your name?”
He came closer and his delicious cologne besieged her senses. It was all her favorite scents; pine, sandalwood, geranium, and it made her mouth water to taste him.
“Mammon,” she repeated. The syllables were like honey on her tongue. “It’s unusual…but I like it.”
He tugged at his bow tie and in one long smooth move it unraveled. He held it forward, then, like his jacket, let it fall. “I guess you want to see what’s beneath here.” He ran his palms down his front, pressing the cotton to his torso.
She swallowed. “Yes.”
How had she ever managed to create such an incredible specimen of a man? Even for a dream he was something else. Special. Intense. Perfect.
He smoothed his fingers over the buttons on his shirt, and when he reached his waistband, they were all undone. He pulled the shirt free and it gaped, exposing an abdomen rigid with muscle and a dark fan of hair leading from his navel to his pants.
She pressed her legs together. The tickle between her legs was turning to heat…and need.
“That’s it, look at me, Marie, look at me, you can. I give you permission.” He slowly removed his shirt, giving her time to see each inch of flesh as it was revealed. A small scribble of chest hair sat on his sternum, the ideal amount, enough to be masculine but not bear-like. When his shoulders were naked, she saw that his muscles were in perfect proportion, and beneath his tanned flesh they danced and flexed with his movements.
She held in a small moan, wanting to touch him, trace her fingertips over his body and explore all the small rises and dips.
“All in good time.”
But her body had other ideas. The muscles in her virginal pussy had clenched, and the heat had turned to hot dampness. There was an ache deep inside her and she longed for it to be soothed.
“Do not be scared, for I will be gentle,” he said. “I know this is your first time.”
He released his belt, freeing the silver buckle. He undid the button on his pants. Slowly, he pushed them down. He didn’t wear undergarments.
Her heart thudded, and her abdomen tensed.
His cock was big, much bigger than she’d ever expected. Not only was it long, it was wide too.
That will never fit inside me, not even in a dream.
“I can make it happen,” he said, taking a step closer and then seeming to hover above her. He was completely naked now. His skin flawless, every muscle honed to perfection.
But it was his cock her concentration was on. Veins stood proud on his shaft, and the domed head was glossy. Beneath it his balls hung heavy.
“Look into my eyes,” he said, hooking his finger beneath her chin and raising her face to his.
This first touch was electrifying, as if a finger of electricity from the storm outside had stroked her. She gasped as pleasurable heat journeyed over her skin. The want in her pussy increased, she needed him to touch her there.
“We will not rush this, we have all night. And I have been searching for you for many moons.”
“You’ve found me.”
“Yes, I have, my love.” He lowered his head with his lips parted.
She parted hers, waiting for his kiss.
It came, and was deep and delicious. His tongue stroked hers and she lost herself to him. It was the kiss of an angel, the other half of her soul. Her life was complete in that moment.
She trembled as he moved his attention across her cheek, down her neck, then his lips trailed over her skin to her breasts.
Her nightgown was gone. She didn’t question how—this was a dream. She was glad he had access to her nipples and arched her back, curled her toes and tried to steady her heartbeat as he began to suck on each one in turn.
“Oh, please,” she said, sinking her fingers into his lustrous hair. “More of that.”
He chuckled, as though amused by her want.
“I need you. I want you to take my virginity.”
“Oh I will, don’t you worry, Marie.” He was hovering above her again, barely seeming to touch the bed, his perfect body almost floating. “Open your legs.”
“Yes. Yes.” She did as instructed, and cool air washed over her damp pussy. “Take me.”
“I knew you were going to be the sweetest of humans,” he said, sliding his hand across her belly, then tickling through her pubic hair. He sought her entrance and pushed in.
“Oh,” she gasped, reaching to cup his jawline. “Mammon.”
“This will not be easy. You have a long road ahead, but I will make it pleasurable. Now, at this moment, you will only know bliss.”
“I believe you.”
He added another finger, stretching her and spreading her arousal.
“Kiss me,” she gasped.
He smiled again, that beautiful, heart-stopping smile of his. Then his lips were over hers, his fingers were gone and in their place the thick head of his cock—it was cool, she hadn’t expected that.
She raised her legs and clamped them to his hips.
“You are mine,” he said softly. “Now and forever.” He eased forward, entering her.
She tensed. A stitch of pain accompanied his invasion. She’d never had anything thicker than her finger there. “Oh…”
“Trust me, surrender to me.” He’d spoken against her lips, his breath warm as he stared into her eyes.
She allowed herself to get lost in his gaze as he drove deeper, filling her, stretching her to what she was sure were impossible limits.
She held her breath, refusing to cry out, and closed her eyes.
“No, look at me, Marie. Open your eyes. Now.”
His voice was stern and she was quick to obey. His cock was still riding in, the cool shaft pressing against the walls of her pussy.
“You have nearly taken your master,” he said. “This one sweet time of perfect connection and creation.”
“I don’t…know what…you mean.”
“Oh, but you will.” He gritted his teeth, closed his eyes and tipped his head back. One final thrust brought him to full depth.
Marie cried out. It hurt, in a strangely good way, and his hard body had rubbed up against her special place.
“Find pleasure with me, my love,” he said. “Let’s make this even more powerful by submitting the will of the human spirit, your human spirit, to me.”
He ground his hips over her, then, appearing to glide effortlessly as his cock came almost out, he pushed back in.
Again her sweet spot was stimulated along with her insides. She was intoxicated with lust, and with him. He’d filled her body and her senses. Within minutes she was aware of the pressure building, the need to give into her release growing.
“You are nearly there, succumb to the desires of the flesh.” His eyes flashed as he stared down at her. “I need to witness this moment that will change everything.”
“Ah, ah, Mammon don’t stop.” She held her breath, the orgasm she’d been waiting for all her life was there. It balanced on a precipice for a heartbeat then toppled her into bliss.
She spasmed around his cock and clung to his shoulders, digging her nails into his flesh.
“For the power of the devil,” he groaned then pounded in, higher than before, and froze. “All power to me.”
A wild roll of thunder crashed around them, burning flashes of lightning filled the room.
And then he was gone.
The weight of his body, his heat, his taste, his scent…his cock.
Marie could hardly catch her breath, and she feared for the survival of her heart it was beating so fast. “Mammon!”
She flailed her arms and jerked her body, looking for his.
That couldn’t be it, that couldn’t be the end of her dream.
The end of Mammon.
Her pussy was still clenching and releasing around nothing, her clit still engorged, and delicious aftershocks were ravaging her belly and sending pleasure down her legs and up to her breasts.
She dared not open her eyes, because then it would definitely be the end of the dream. Instead she squeezed her eyelids closed tighter, stilled and prayed he’d come back to her. Mammon had been so vivid, so real, there had to be more.
As she lay there, the storm raging, her heart rate calmed and so did her breathing. She ran her hands over her breasts. Her long night gown was back in place, covering her breasts and down to her waist. But from there it was dragged up, bunched so her nakedness was exposed.
She swallowed, wishing evidence of his kiss was on her tongue, but it wasn’t, all she could do was try to remember his taste. Delving between her legs, she found her clit was still sensitive. The orgasm had been real, even if created within a dream. A wet dream; she was sopping, her pussy thick with liquid, more than if she’d masturbated, much more.
She drew her fingers up from the sheets, then with her other hand flicked on the bedside lamp.
Spread on her fingers was thick, pearly-white liquid. It sparkled in the light and was warm.
“What just happened to me?”