Chapter 59

Kathleen

Sex dreams don't come often, but when you've been denied by someone like Ira Mathison, you're gonna dream about fucking somebody.

Guess who is in my sex dream. Hilariously enough, it's not Ira. No, it's the gender-ambiguous person from Midnight. The one Nova walked away with and got to intimately know against a wall.

Apparently, I thought they were hot.

"Kathleen," they say with a purring accent. "Let's go away, you and me. I've got a private jet. Anywhere in the world. Brazil, Singapore, Tahiti… what is your poison, my beauty?"

I'm putty in their hands, my giggles piercing my brain and my body begging them to fuck me. I don't think it has anything to do with the person. I could be dreaming about any hot dominant. All that matters is that my brain has nothing to do with Ira right now.

Ew, Ira.

"That's right, precious kitten." They stroke my cheek and brush their hand against my hard nipple. "Don't think about that person. Think about anyone but them. It's time you try on a new dominant for size."

A new dominant.

Hey, sleeping-sex-dream Kathleen is all about getting her a new dominant to try out everything she knows.

They lure me down onto a couch, breath hot against my skin. Fingers roll against my nipples. My legs are parted. Kisses cover my shoulder, my back, my cheek. Their weight is pushing against me...

I see daylight.

My eyes are slowly opening, the beautiful foreigner disappearing from my dream. I'm still awake – sexually, anyway. My body calls to be touched.

And it is.

There are hands on me. That wasn't a dream. Neither were the kisses as they pepper my skin and roll into my ear.

Ira.

It's God-fucking-knows-o-clock, and Ira Mathison is rubbing against me in bed, her fingers about to penetrate me

"Shh," she says, clasping her hand over my mouth. The other cups my breast, rolling my nipple between forefinger and thumb. My unclothed pussy is wet, and I don't know if it's from my sex dream or Ira manipulating me in my sleep.

My God.

This was in that letter she sent me. "You will be available to me at all times of day. Even when you're asleep." Boy, I guess so. I remember thinking the idea was hot but didn't think she would do it.

I very rarely make morning love outside of some making out and heavy petting. Actual sex with someone's fingers or genitals is usually out of the question, because who wants to deal with that waking up?

Apparently I do!

This should be against everything I hold dear. Namely, my bodily autonomy. Did I tell Ira it was okay to awaken me with sex? Inadvertently. Was she going to have sex with me while I was asleep? Well, she said she might. Do I want to know the answers to these questions?

Yes. And no.

I don't think she would have done something heinous. Not only because nothing about her previous behavior says that but also because she's only going for it now that I'm awake.

The dream world. Reality. Who knows which one came first? Was I having a sex dream because Ira was stimulating me in bed? Or was I already horny as fucking hell because I thought I was going to have sex last night and then didn't at all?

Furthermore, who the fuck cares?

Coming out of a dream world means I'm existing on the border between illusion and reality. Everything my body feels is absolutely real. However, it's amplified by my sleepy mind, a mind that is quickly awakening thanks to the hand silencing my moans and the other squeezing my breasts and rubbing the inside of my bare thigh. My senses are heightened. I can barely believe this is happening, since it still feels like a dream.

Her breath against my skin. Her quiet groans in my ear. The way she presses against me from behind, grabbing everything, keeping me silent. The rest of her getting ready to take me and use me any way she pleases.

"You will be available to me." I really am her doll.

I don't care.

It's not a joke when I say this is fucking hot. Maybe it's my sleep-addled brain making me think that, but hey, I'll take it. I've never been woken up with sex before. I never thought I would like it. Yet I trust Ira, and when she strokes my slit, neither of us is surprised when I'm wet enough to do whatever she wants.

Shit, like nobody knows what she wants.

She doesn't say a thing, let alone good morning, as she lifts my left leg and presses her fingertips into my wetness. I moan into the palm of her hand, watching the morning sunlight ascend through the bedroom window as she slowly slips into me, filling me at this ungodly hour.

Once I'm too full to take more at this angle, she pulls out, muttering something that I can't comprehend into my ear.

Before I know it, Ira slams back into me, shaking my body, flinging my leg over her hips, and using her free hand to snake beneath my shirt and squeeze my breast as hard as she dares.

In my current state, it's almost overwhelming.

She doesn't even touch my clit, yet I'm halfway to squealing in her hand, my body overcome with desire and pleasure. I don't know where she got so much energy this early in the morning, but she's not letting up. I jerk in her embrace from the force of her strength. I cower beneath her hand, sinking deeper into her arms, against her body, willing more of her into me as she takes me, over and over.

"You're mine," I feel in her movements. "This is what you were made for. You don't need to worry about anything else. Let go and indulge in the moment."

Do you think that's what she means when she does this?

"Katie." That's the only word I hear from her before she fucks me harder, her hand impaling from behind, reaching deep, deep within, and threatening to split me in two. I close my eyes, blotting out the sun, welcoming the darkness of my dream world.

The whimper I release into her hand is both pathetic and electrifying.

My body gives me away. Every part of me is charged, ready. The amount of wetness that manages to seep between my skin and hers trickles down my thigh. My nipples are so sensitive that all it takes is one pinch and I'm near orgasm.

She didn't tell me not to come.

Sounds I barely recognize fill the air, muffled by her strong hand clamped upon my mouth. I know we're both close when I feel her tense, the sounds of sex so strong and enticing that they're all I can hear. I want her. I want her inside me, like this, getting ready to prove herself until I scream for more.

I'm not surprised when I start to climax. The entirety of my body shudders. My brain explodes in my head. My eyes are closed, but light comes through in the form of nirvana claiming me.

This isn't a normal orgasm, however. This is something else.

Something is happening, and not only to my body.

Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I realize that it wasn't "Katie" the sub enjoying this. No, at no point in my dreamy haze did I think I had to change my attitude to enjoy this. I just did. I didn't need an excuse.

There's something even scarier happening as I lie here, being fucked halfway out of sleep by someone I've let collar me and do whatever the fuck she wants to me – shit like this.

What's happening is that I not only want my own pleasure, but her own. For her sake.

I want her to use me to feel good.

I want her to keep me quiet, docile, and accepting of what happens.

Good God do I want her to!

When I hear her grunt in orgasm, I'm elated. When I feel her fingers stall within me, I'm relieved. Yes, I physically feel good. Great, even. It's a good orgasm, and I'm going to lie here and ride it out as a wonderful way to start my day. What feels fantastic, however, is hearing her pleasure tear through her, emptying her stress, her fears, and her insecurities.

Fuck my life. Nova was right.

Her soothing voice brings me down from my high. Ira stays within me for a few more seconds, hand slacking against my mouth until her arm falls over the edge of the bed. My head rolls onto the pillow and I close my eyes, ready to go back to sleep.

"Wake up, darling. It's nearly time to go to work."

Ah, fuck her!