Lucas slept deeply after the exertion of a run that had left even Clay exhausted. He'd expected only darkness but the most exquisite pleasure welcomed him into his dreams.
Slender fingers traveled down his front as he lay sprawled on his back, exploring him so carefully that he felt owned. No woman had ever come close to owning Lucas Hunter, but in this dreamworld he allowed her to play. After endless moments, the fingers stopped their stroking and he felt the brush of wet heat against his nipple. His dream-lover was taking her time licking circles around it, arousing him to fever pitch. Opening his eyes, he tangled a hand in the silky curls cascading over his chest.
Her head rose and night-sky eyes met his.
He wasn't surprised. The panther in him had found Sascha Duncan enticing from the start and in this dreamworld, it was okay to let that fascination free, to indulge his feline curiosity about this most unusual woman. Here there was no possibility of war and she was no longer an emissary of the enemy.
"What do you think you're doing, kitten?" He let his gaze wander over the dark honey of her bare skin.
Those eyes widened in shock. "This is my dream."
He chuckled. Even in his dreams, she was as willful as she was in life. He'd begun to suspect that not everything was efficiency with Sascha. No, sometimes she just liked sharpening her claws on him. "I'm at your mercy."
She made an annoyed sound and sat up on her knees. "Why are you talking?"
He folded his arms behind his head, delighted by the sight of her lush br**sts displayed so beautifully for him. He liked this dream. Even the panther was pleased. "Don't you want me to?" He made it a temptation.
"Well..." She frowned. "The whole point is to taste you... I guess you'd never be silent in bed."
"You're right." He watched her watch him. Her eyes held such pure heat that he felt branded. The alpha in him wanted to reach out and tangle his fingers in the shadowed triangle of curls exposed by her kneeling position, but he was wary of shattering this strange dream.
"Can I?" She ran her fingers along the markings on his face, her lower lip caught between her teeth. "Do you feel my touch?"
He wanted to bite down on that sexy mouth she was teasing him with. "Every stroke." The markings were highly sensitive and he was very, very choosy about who he let touch them.
"I've been wanting to stroke them since we first met." With a sigh, she leaned down to place a row of kisses along the jagged lines. The deep rumble of his purr seemed to startle her but it wasn't a bad kind of startlement - he felt her ni**les harden against his chest. After exploring his face to her satisfaction, she sat back up, raking her nails gently down his chest.
"Harder, kitten. I won't break."
She took a shaky breath and did as he'd asked. "Cats like to be petted." It was a soft murmur.
"I told you we're picky about who we allow to pet us." He ran a hand up the outside of her thigh.
She shivered. "Why would I dream of you touching me? I want to touch you."
"But if you're dreaming of me, wouldn't I be touching you?" He was delighted by this odd dream, which felt almost like reality, except of course the real Sascha would never display her emotions so openly.
"Yes... you're very territorial." A frown line appeared on her forehead. "You'd want to mark me. My subconscious must be filling in the gaps."
He tried not to grin. "Who do you let pet you?"
"Psy don't get petted." A hint of sadness flickered in those eyes he was starting to be able to read.
"Maybe you've been hanging around with the wrong people." He stroked his hand to the curve of her buttock and stopped. "I'd take great pleasure in petting you."
Her breath came out in a gasp. "Me first," she whispered, leaning down. "It's my dream. Just a taste," she said again. "That's all, just a taste."
He would never say no to being petted by this exotic female who fascinated him. Not when she looked at him with fire not ice in her gaze. His hand clenched on her bottom as she nibbled, licked, and sucked at his nipple with the utmost attention to detail. She didn't stop him when he ran his fingers down her thigh, luxuriating in that honeyed skin he wanted to lick all over.
Her mouth moved to his neglected nipple, one hand reaching down to scrape the nails up his thigh. He growled softly in the back of his throat. She looked up. "What does that mean?" Her hand had dropped to lay against his inner thigh, excruciatingly close to his rock-hard erection.
Her head tilted slightly to one side and he remembered her questions in the car. Odd that his subconscious would remember that small giveaway gesture, but then again, this whole dream was odd. Not that he was complaining.
"It means keep doing exactly what you were doing." He moved his hand around her bottom and slid down to lightly rub at the wet heat of her entrance, sending the scent of her desire flaring into the air.
She gasped and pulled away. "Not yet."
He was used to taking control but there was something in her eyes that told him she'd disappear if he pushed any harder. He put his hands back under his head, telling her without words that he was hers to play with. For now. As if she'd heard the unspoken caveat, she moved down the bed and straddled his thighs midway up his legs.
He looked his fill of that lush female body and knew he was going to mark her when he took her. Nothing hurtful. Just a bite or two, a playful nip here and there in places where no one could mistake their meaning. Sascha Duncan was going to be Lucas Hunter's woman.
Night-sky eyes wide, she wrapped one slender hand around his jutting erection. He shuddered. "Tighter."