The Dream Crafter by Danielle Monsch

her camisole shirt before he slid them over her arms. The stretchy fabric slipped with ease from her body, and as the fabric fell beneath her breasts, exposing her now bare chest, he stopped all movement, his hands stilling as he took her in.
    After a momentary hesitation, he reached out to feel her. Rough skin moved in gentle patterns over her body as he took the same route she had only moments before. He started at her wrist and went upward, the scrape of one fingernail against her inner elbow provoking an instinctive shudder through her. Those nimble fingers worked ever upwards, a scorching path that sent goosebumps prickling over every space he left.
    His hand encircled her neck, his thumb stroking over the pulse point at the base of her throat, a pulse that was jumping in erratic rhythm as she stood here before him, bared and waiting for the continuation of this exploration.
    Now his hand journeyed downward, knuckles dragging over the skin between neck and upper chest. At the upper slope of her breast he hesitated for a moment before continuing, using all four fingers to brush over the skin of her breast, circling the mound with several strokes before he pressed forward, molding it into his palm. He cupped her, both their breathing speeding up as the exploration went from tentative to more certain, more forceful. He didn’t take his eyes from hers, not even as he lowered his head and brought her breast to his mouth, taking control of her body in this new way.
    His tongue was warm with the right amount of rough as it circled her nipple, and the easy bite of teeth had her bringing her hands to his head, fingers threading through his hair to keep him close, to keep that amazing mouth on her.
    He acceded, bringing her in deeper, using that mouth harder and making her cry under the onslaught. Her skin would be marked and bruised, and a fierce disappointment hit that she wouldn’t see this when she woke, that the traces he left on her body would be gone when her eyes opened.
    Pushing the unpleasant thought aside, she continued pulling him to her, a soft whine of disappointment escaping as he let up, only to sigh in pleasure as he switched sides, taking her other breast as he had the first.
    All thoughts were drowned out by sensation, lost in a pleasant haze that enveloped her mind. Here, in this moment, it was her and this beautiful man with his wicked tongue, and the heavy thump in the back of her mind was something she fought to ignore.
    The beat was steady and deep, a bass rhythm that would not let her go. It was the drum of inevitability, of reality. The drumming that told her wakefulness was coming, and now was the time to act.
    With desperate force Amana brought Merc’s lips to her own once again. If she could absorb him whole she would have at that moment. Instead she pressed herself against him so hard that, if his tattoos imprinted themselves on her, she would not be surprised.
    Merc pulled away, his hands gentling her when she would have pushed into him again. “We have all night.” He ran his hands through her long hair, pushing it off her shoulders to stroke her bare skin again.
    She clenched her teeth against the words, pushed her head into his chest. The bass pulsed louder, and it was over. It was now time to let this man go.
    “You’re right.” She gentled her movements, stroked her hands over his chest again. “Lie down.”
    He stiffened, though not for any sexual reason. His gaze went sharp as he took her in, zooming over her face to read her.
    Damn. A little too much of what she was feeling leaked out in her words. Pulling herself together, she twisted her mouth into a tempting smile, biting her lip to draw his gaze. “Why are you making me wait?”
    The hesitant look didn’t fade at once, but it did lessen, and his own smile returned as he walked backwards and reclined on the bed, every line of his body inviting her to join him.
    She did, lowering herself over him, pushing them both back so they