I’m dragged out of some deep dream, my eyes snapping open suddenly. My brain is only half-present, but it instantly notes that I’m not in my own room even though it is dark. The sound that woke me up comes again. Someone’s voice. Chelsea’s. I raise my head and turn to peer at her. In the dark her skin glows like porcelain.

“What is it?” I ask.

She doesn’t respond to me. She shifts and rolls over to face me.

“No,” she mutters, “don’t touch me.”

I stare at her. Her eyes are closed. She is talking in her sleep. I know I should wake her up, but I cannot resist the opportunity of seeing behind the mask. Listening to her most private thoughts. Those only expressed in her dreams.

She starts writhing violently, as if trying to escape from an assailant in her dream realm. Holy hell, she’s not dreaming. She is having a nightmare.

I can’t watch any longer. Gently, I shake her shoulder and Chelsea jerks awake and instinctively scoots away from me. Her eyes are wide with fear and she is breathing hard.

“Hey, it’s only me,” I say, and pull her unresisting body towards me. Her heart is pounding so hard that I can feel it. She is so upset she forgets her normal reserve. Wrapping her arms around me she begins to cry softly.

“Shhh … I’m right here. Everything is all right,” I croon, running my hand up and down her bare back. Reassurance is all that I can offer her without knowing what it is that has her so afraid.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” I whisper into her silky hair, when the sobbing stops.

Just as suddenly as she came to me, she suddenly pulls away. She wipes her tears and lies back on the pillows, staring at the opposite wall. “It was nothing. Just a bad dream,” she mumbles.

This is a side of her that I have never seen before. Chelsea has always been pragmatic, practical, intelligent, hidden, and most of all distant. To see her now so shaken up makes me feel as if I’ve never known her.

“What did you dream about?” I ask.

She doesn’t look me in the eye. “It’s nothing.”

The pinched expression on her face is the best evidence for why that simply isn’t true. “If there is anything I can do to help you …”

She shakes her head. I am about to speak up again, when she turns around and bites down on my bottom lip, then starts kissing me ferociously. Almost as if she wants to consume me. I know what that feels like. I know she is doing that because she doesn’t want me prying into her dream, but it’s impossible to resist her now. I want to be consumed by her.

She maneuvers her body quickly, her breasts bouncing in the gloom, and climbs on top of me. She hovers over me like an avenging angel, and blood rushes to my cock, electrifying me. I bend upwards to reach her.

I close my eyes as she trails delicate kisses down my neck. My body tenses as she sinks her teeth into my neck. Chelsea taking charge and trying to overpower me is a new and sexy feeling. I feel her lay her tongue on my skin to taste my heartbeat in the blood that flows under my skin. From my neck down to my bare chest she goes.

Her tongue makes circles around my nipple, then she sucks on it.

She pushes me down so that I am lying back on the pillows. Then she straddles my thighs. She is so wet, she leaves a wet patch on my skin. She wraps her hand around my shaft, then lifts her body over it. I don’t thrust upwards. I let her take charge. She impales herself on my cock beautifully, her mouth opening in a soundless cry of pleasure.

With my cock buried deep inside her Chelsea starts playing with her breasts, squeezing and rubbing them. Her silhouette is beautiful, unforgettable. Her face is contorted. She tilts her body and rocks her hips back and forth so my cock is moving back and forth inside of her pussy.

Then Chelsea leans forward and allows her hips to move in a circular motion. I can feel her clit, rubbing, rubbing, rubbing. Her movements are rough and fast.

“Yesssss,” she hisses, lost in the sensations her body is feeling.

Though I enjoy it, I can sense that she is not completely here with me. She isn’t taking her time. She wants to come and she wants to come now.

I sit up and hold her, my hands gripping her by her waist so that her movements remain steady and fluid. Then I thrust my hips to match her rhythm. Moving with her is my way of letting her know I am here with her; that whatever it is that scared the hell out of her in her nightmare doesn’t mean shit to me.

Our agreement included me protecting her as if she is part of me.

I stare into her face, watching the emotions of pleasure and lust and need and greed. I catch her hips and pull them up and down so she is no longer gyrating into me. Now she is bouncing on my dick, but at her own pace and to her own rhythm. She is going at me hard. My grip on her tightens. My mouth opens in a groan.

“Chelsea, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Cum for me,” she orders.

I stare into her beautiful eyes. Fuck, she has never been more beautiful than she is now, her face twisted with passion and desire. With a roar, I shoot my load deep into her. She continues to fuck me, even after I have filled her with my cum.

It’s her turn.

My erection is still strong because I am still aroused by the way she looks and the way her body undulates. I watch her move up and down my shaft. She begins to moan restlessly, and I know that means that she is close. I wait for the familiar shiver of her body. Chelsea tosses her head back, leaving her breasts exposed. It gives me an opportunity to suck on them.

“Ahhh!” she cries.

My grip on her tightens as she quivers, then becomes rigid. The muscles in her pussy clench me so tightly it feels as if she is fused onto me. She claws at my body like a feral cat. She can’t control the power of her orgasm. She draws blood, but I watch what I’ve done to her with joy. I caused her to lose control.

When it is finally over, she collapses on top of me, breathing hard, my cock still inside her. I listen to her breathing as it becomes more and more even until she falls asleep on me.

I know now there is more to her, much more, than the manipulative accountant who stole from me. She almost allowed herself to be vulnerable tonight, but tomorrow morning, I expect she’ll become distant once again, which will be a good thing. She’s not here to be my girlfriend. We’re not meant to be together. This is just a passing phase. She is here simply because I need to purge myself of this crazy need for her.

When I look down at the way she is sleeping on me, as innocent and helpless as a child, something in me softens and refuses to be turned away.

There was a sadness about her tonight that reaches deep into some unknown part of me and makes me want to protect her even more. As I watch her I notice my heart getting warmer with each second that I gaze at her sleeping face and body.

I wait until I can stay no longer. Dawn is in the sky and soon she will open her eyes again. If I let her see how much I have started to care, she will take advantage of that weakness.

Carefully, I shift her off me, and return to my bedroom.