He's in my dreams again

Adrian didn’t answer. But the shadow of him shifted, blocking out the faint moonlight from the window as he moved closer.

I waited for the illusion to shatter. Usually, if I stared too hard, the lines of his face would blur into the dark and I’d wake up alone, left with nothing but a hollow ache. 

But he didn't fade. He felt incredibly heavy as he leaned down, his breathing warm and uneven against my face.

When his arms slid under my back to pull me against his chest, a sharp shiver ran straight down my spine. The contact was thick, solid, and completely intoxicating. 

My night clothes offered no protection against the bare heat of his skin. I reached up shamelessly, my fingers locking behind his neck, pulling him down until my lips brushed his.

"Please," I breathed against his mouth.

I didn't care about the guilt. In this dream, in this dark, Elena didn't exist. 

I pressed my mouth to his, expecting the phantom softness of my usual dreams, but his lips parted under mine with a rough, heavy reality. 

He tasted warm… he tasted real. 

If I didn't know Adrian well, I would've thought it was real but my dreams with him always play tricks with me. Sometimes it feels so real it feels like it'll last. Only for the morning to come and the loneliness hits me hard… Painfully.

But I'll worry about that later. Let me just hold him now. Feel his unreal warmth deceive me into thinking it's the real thing.

I moaned directly into his mouth, my tongue tangling with his, completely surrendering to the weight of him pressing me into the mattress.

Adrian didn't speak a word. His silence only made the dream feel more absolute, my private universe where I could have what was forbidden.

His hand slid down my side, the large palm sliding through my thigh until it slid up to my shorts. The heat of his touch made me shiver. 

I parted my legs instinctively, tilting my hips up, inviting him in. This was how it went more than a thousand times in my fantasy. The agonizing slow drag of his hand moving up the inside of my thigh, making me shiver, making my insides tingle…

Then, he slid his hand into my shorts and found my clit. I let out a sharp, breathless gasp.

He paused for a second, his thumb brushing over it, testing my reactions and the slick wetness that was already there. 

Then, he stroked downward, his fingers sliding deeper, seeking entrance into my pussy and another sharp gasp ripped from my throat, my grip on him tightening.

It was too tight. A barrier was there, narrow and unbroken, resisting the intrusion of his finger despite how wet I was. 

Why is it like this? I wondered. It hurts. But… it never hurts. 

In the dark, I felt his entire frame go rigid above me, his fingers going still inside me for a long, heavy beat.

Then came the question. 

"Are you a virgin?" he suddenly asked, his voice sounding like a raspy whisper cutting through the silence.

I went rigid too, the cold shock of the question piercing through the fog in my head. Adrian in real life wouldn't know. He had no idea that I had never let anyone touch me like this.

But this was a dream, so it didn't matter. In my other fantasies, my mind loved to torment me. He had called me a slut before in my sleep—a virgin slut, precisely—and I assumed this was just one of those times where my subconscious was playing dirty.

"Yes," I gasped out, my head rolling back against the pillow as his fingers twitched inside me. "I'm always keeping myself for you to defile over and over."

He went even more rigid. For a second, he didn't move at all, his breath hitting my collarbone in harsh, ragged bursts.

Then, he continued. His fingers began to move again, but the rhythm was different now—darker, more demanding, stretching past the tight barrier with a possessive force that made my vision blur.

"A virgin," he murmured, his lips pressing hard against the pulse point on my neck. His tone had changed, dropping into a dangerous, rough tone. "So all that sweetness was a lie? Your precious innocence in front of your sister… just a facade."

I whimpered, a shameless, broken sound that echoed in the quiet room. I didn't care what he called me. I just needed him to keep moving his fingers. 

He rubbed my clit with his thumb while thrusting his fingers in and out of me.

I arched my hips up into his palm, my fingers digging desperately into his shoulders, silently begging him to draw even closer.

And he leaned down lower, his mouth hovering just an inch over mine, his eyes burning into me through the dark.

"Don't you feel guilty?" he whispered, his thumb applying a heavy, deliberate pressure that made my thighs tremble. "Doing this to your sister's husband, Lisa? Whoring yourself out to the man she just married hours ago?"

A sharp pang of misery cut straight through the arousal. Even in my own head, I couldn't escape the truth. My guilt was already poisoning the only place I was allowed to have him.

"I do," I sobbed out, the sound catching in my throat. "I feel horrible. I'm an awful sister."

"Then why are you holding onto me?" he murmured.

"Because I can't help it," I cried, the confession ripping out of me as his hand slid under the hem of my top. I felt something cold and knew right away it was his ring. I shut my eyes, the ring acting as a cold reminder of my reality, but I shut the thought out and opened my eyes.

I locked my legs around his hips, pulling him down, desperate to drown out the noise in my head. "I just can't. Please. Just let me have this.”

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, his gaze dropped to my body, tracing my skin with his eyes until they got to my nipples that were perked out of my top.

Then, he buried his mouth against the side of my neck before sliding down to the slope of my chest. He pulled up my top completely, bunching it around my throat, and leaving my breasts bare to the cool air of the room—and then to the warmth of his tongue.

I gasped as his mouth closed over one nipple, sucking it deep while his fingers found the other, rolling the bud between his thumb and forefinger until it was tight and aching. 

The contrast was driving me insane. The wet, pulling heat of his mouth and the way his finger roughly moved inside me made my hips roll off the mattress entirely.

"Adrian," I pleaded, my fingers finding their way into his thick hair, dragging him closer.

I didn't even see the process, as if the pants he had been wearing had disappeared in an instant, same with my shorts. They were already off me before I even realized it. 

This is one of the perks of doing it in the dream world.

Adrian shifted, his bare thighs brushing against mine, pushing my legs wide apart. I felt something smooth and hard pressed directly against my wet entrance, slick with the wetness his fingers had left behind. 

He didn't just push in right away. He hovered there, the blunt head of his cock nudging against my tight, wet pussy, testing the boundary.