Read part one here. Or you can jump in here; it gets to the sexy parts pretty quickly.
Maggie watched the man almost run from the laundry room. She was utterly confused. There was no way he could have known about her dream, even if he acted like he had. As she finished tossing her laundry in the basket, she tried to figure out what she could have done to make the man scurry away.
On her way out the of the laundry room, she noticed his jug of soap, abandoned on top of the washer. With a sigh she picked it up, planning on leaving it next to his door. As she was setting the bottle down on the step outside his door, he came flying out the of the apartment like it was on fire.
He froze seeing her.
“You left your soap.” She said with a nod toward the bottle.
He gazed at her and took a long breath. “I need to apologize for my rudeness earlier.” His eyes, met hers and she felt her breath catch recalling his strange dark eyes in the dream. It was like his irises were oversized or something. “It has been a bad week.”
Maggie blinked, trying to shake off the feeling that he did know about the dream. “We all have our bad days,” she replied with a small smile.
Later that night, Maggie had put the strange encounter from her mind. She slipped into bed exhausted.
She knew instantly that it was a dream. This time she was inside his apartment – but it looked nothing like her place. The cheap rental carpet and bad paint that marred her space were absent in his. His carpet was a plush, her bare feet sinking into the soft almost silken fibers. “And of course, I’m still naked” she muttered catching her reflection in the many mirrors that studded his rich, sapphire blue walls. Distracted by the opulence of the place, she hadn’t noticed him at all.
When he spoke, a soft whisper of “Shahzada” she jumped a little. He was reclining on the couch seemed to banal a term for the velvet mass of cushions he lay on. He was, she did not fail to notice, at least shirtless this time. And she let her eyes travel over the hard lines of his chest, her fingers itching to touch the dark hair that traveled down his chest and belly to disappear into the waistband of his jeans.
She took a halting step toward him, and stopped. If this was her dream, she would play by her rules. “Come,” she called to him stopping short of snapping her fingers at him. His strange obsidian eyes glinted at her in the dim light. He sat up, stretching his lithe form, before sliding to the floor, to rest on his knees. He lowered his eyes to the floor and crawled toward her.
Maggie watched the way his body moved, the stretch and pull of his muscles. This was a dream she was going to enjoy. He reached her, kneeling before her and she could feel his breathe on her thighs. She rested her hand on his head, feeling his silky hair between her fingers. She pulled, not softly, and more than playfully. She pulled his head up, forcing him to meet her eyes. “This is my dream, and we play by my rules.”
His eyes gleamed, watering from how hard she pulled. “Yes, Shahbanu – I am your servant.” His rich voice quiet, but confident had her ready to melt.
She released his hair and took three steps to the couch, and settled herself on it. She sank into the velvet depths, shifting until she was lying comfortably. He remained kneeling where she’d left him. “Take off your pants” she ordered watching him, and the hundred mirror images of him.
He rose to his feet, his hair falling over his eyes. He slowly unfastened his pants, and the sound of the zipper was an explosion of sound in the room. His cock sprang free from the jeans.
Maggie didn’t bother to silence her throaty whisper, letting her “yum” hang between them. And his eyes flashed up to meet hers, and she could see the small smile on his lips before he lowered his head again.
He slipped the jeans off his hips, and they slowly slipped to the floor. She let him stand naked, her eyes devouring him.
“Come,” she whispered, finding her throat dry. He stepped toward her, closing the distance too quickly for Maggie to recover her composure. She’d always thought being the dominant one would be easy, but her mind was flooded with things she wanted to demand he do for her. She bit her lip as he stood above her. She parted her legs, “Lick.”
He dropped to his knees, “As you wish, Shahzada” he purred at her, his eyes once more meeting hers. His lips brushed across her thighs, his beard soft. She felt his tongue, hot and wet travel up her thighs, his hands resting on her hips. She felt that tongue lapping the inside of her thighs and moaned.
“You’re good at teasing me,” she whispered her fingers twining in his hair. “Do you like making me hot?”
He nodded, taking his mouth away from her. “I seek to please you,” he answered.
She felt the words on her skin, and tugged on his hair. “Then start pleasing,” she ordered. She felt a rush at the power she wielded. This was the part of dominating that she fantasized about. Not just being in control, but being about to demand what she wanted. His mouth found her pussy, and his tongue slipped into her wet folds.
Her fingers loosened their grip on his hair as she moaned in delight. His tongue was deftly lapping at her clit, while his beard tickled her thighs. Maggie let herself get lost in the pleasure, with it reservation. She pressed herself into his face, and panted out orders – faster, yes that, more, slower.
When she felt the tingling, ache of her impending orgasm she of course ordered him not to stop, his tongue and lips had found the perfect combination of pressure and touch to bring her to the edge. She clamped her thighs around his face as she came. When she released his face, he moved slightly resting his cheek on her thigh.
“You exist to serve me,” she heard herself whisper, and wondered where that idea had come from. She felt his smile in the shift of his face and in his words.
“As you wish, Shahbanu”