Princess stretched. It had been the most wonderful dream she had ever had. She blushed as she remembered the details. Mark’s fingers and mouth doing the most amazing things to her, the most incredible sensations. And then, they made love. It had been the most wonderful thing, and she was only sorry it was a dream.
She curled up in bed and thought of the loving. First, when he had brought her to a fever pitch, the fast, hard pounding, as if he couldn’t hold himself back, couldn’t wait any more either. She remembered digging her fingernails into his back, wrapping her legs around him as she strained to reach his thrusts, crying out for more, exploding as he did, not so much a result of his actions, as his calling her his love, his darling.
Then the long, slow loving, as they explored every part of each other, cataloguing reactions. The long slow loving, building to shattering climax after shattering climax.
And then, falling asleep in the safety of his arms.
She hugged herself, wanting to feel that same safety, that same love. Then it slowly dawned on her.
She was naked. She never, ever slept naked.
She was sore. Not injured sore, but….. Princess blushed. Had her dream been vivid enough that she had…..
She started as her door opened, and Mark entered, carrying a bottle of champagne and two flutes. His jeans, unbelted, seemed to cling precariously to his hips, his naked torso showing reddened marks on it. Marks she now remembered making as she had nibbled and licked down his body.
He smiled at her. “Good morning, birthday girl,” he said, coming over to kiss her. “I thought that we should start celebrating early.”
He put the wine down and came over to her, dropping his jeans and pulling her into his arms as he slid into bed. “Happy birthday, Princess.” He then kissed her, his hands stroking down her back.
Princess purred into the kiss and wrapped herself around him.
It hadn’t been a dream. And was the best birthday present she could ever have.
“I love you, Mark.”