The Sandman

The Sandman
Frankie Belleville

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2005 Frankie Belleville
An Authorized Excerpt

Meg came slowly to her senses. She felt the sun struggling through her window to warm her cheek, unable to dance across her eyes just yet. The sounds of birds filled her ears and the breeze blowing through her open window was full of pine and chill.

Her dream came to her as she lay in bed and she hummed to herself with a slow, smiling stretch. She felt as if years had been lifted from her life.

Her hand touched something soft and warm, causing her to frown. She didn’t remember bringing anyone to bed with her. Her eyes needed to open to further investigate.

And when they did, she had an eyeful of Luk.

Ok, not quite an eyeful. He was buried in blankets up to his chin so her eyes were filled with the back of his head, but –

Luk . . . was . . . in . . . her . . . bed!

She couldn’t control it. A scream literally ripped itself from her throat, where it had been lodged at the very bottom of her lungs.

Luk shot straight out of bed in a tangle of sheets and blankets, rising to his feet only to fall as the blankets wrapped themselves around his legs.

Meg’s scream could only last so long, especially when using that much force. She sat panting on the bed, sitting in what was left of the blankets.

Luk popped his head up and plopped it on an arm resting on the bed. He raised an eyebrow at her. “Is this how you wake up every morning?”

“Did we – did you – how did –" She stopped and looked at him. “Are you naked?”

He grinned, his chin sliding out of his hand, his cheek scrunching into his eye. His hair was wild and disheveled, looking more like a lump of hay than hair and his blue eyes twinkled brighter than Meg had seen them since they’d been reunited. “Would you like me to be?”

She looked at the window, then back at him. “How did – no – what about – wait –“

He laughed, disappearing behind the bed.

“Luk!”

He popped back up, a boyish grin on his face.

“I’m serious!”

His grin softened as he cocked his head at her. “Do you remember us doing anything?”

She blinked, her face turning beet red. “Well . . .” “In Dreamland,” he said softly. He blinked slowly, his long, dusty lashes rising over sensuous, blue pools. “Trust me,” he purred, pulling himself onto the bed. “When we do,” he continued, pushing her back into the pillows, “hopefully,” he breathed into her lips, “you’ll remember.”

His kiss bowled her over like a sixteen wheeler. Her excuses were road pizza and there was no inflating any of them.

He straddled her hips, taking her arms and pinning them into the pillow at her head. His mouth was not content with merely tasting her lips. It moved with a mission – to seek and devour.

Meg wasn’t about to stop him.

Even if she could. This was like something straight out of a love story where the woman gets crazy and collapses in the hero’s arms. This was hot and wild, consuming and oh-so-wonderful. Ladies, she thought, eat your heart out.

His lips trailed the length of her jawbone, back . . . back and oh! He’d found an ear. Soft warmth enveloped the lobe, his breath whispering along her throat. The heat from his tongue energized every single nerve ending she had in her body and kicked her loins on like a switch.

A moan escaped her lips as she pressed her torso into the feathery reaches of the bed to arch herself into him.

She felt his smile against her neck. “Do you think you’ll remember this?” he asked softly.

Her eyes closed so that she could divert all her attention on the sensations he was creating.

He pulled her shirt to the side and raked his teeth over a shoulder. Her eyes shot open and her body jolted, demanding more.

He chuckled. “Would that be a yes?”

Guys.

She looked at him, her stormy eyes not quite focused. “Mmm.” His roaming hands lifted her shirt and found an alert nipple. He touched it softly, sending ripples from one end of her body to the next. “Yes,” she whispered forcefully.

His calloused hands circled her breast, running the rough palm over her taut nipple. She whimpered as he continued on to the other, lonely and pouty breast.

It was too much. She lifted her one free hand and tried to lift her shirt over her head. Her other hand was freed as he stopped to help. She arched beneath him, feeling his worn jeans run across her skin.

She brought her hands up as his hands paused. She skimmed across soft skin and hard muscle. He leaned into her kneading fingers, her chewed and extremely short nails barely scoring his chest. His hands were still, his breathing quiet. His body felt tense, coiled.

Meg looked up, afraid he was changing his mind.

His eyes sparkled like sapphires as he watched her, his expression serious.

Not again, she snapped to herself.

He must have heard her thought or read it in her eyes. A corner of his mouth lifted. “Do you want me to stop?”

Meg growled low in her throat. She reached up and grabbed Luk by the back of his neck, dragging him down to her. As soon as he was within reach, her lips stole his, devouring him as if she were starving.

Ok, so she was. This was prime man-flesh, after all.

She lifted her hips and pushed off, flipping him onto his back.

He smiled up at her as she pulled away. “Well, if I’d known you liked the top. . .”

She smiled, than grinned. “I just didn’t want you to change your mind.”

She bent down and licked and nibbled along his neck and shoulders. He had magnificent shoulders. She shook her head, trying to get her hair to fall around her. She’d be sexier, she knew, if her hair would fall around her, but her frizzy, morning hair refused and sat in a red lump on her head. So she resorted to more nibbling and less looking.

Glancing up, she saw his eyes on her as she moved, making her stomach clench. To heck with being sexy. Those eyes could melt ice at twenty meters. Her hair didn’t stand a chance.

She cut a path back to his neck, raking her teeth along his ear lobe. His body jerked beneath her. “Foreplay,” she said, sucking the lobe of his ear into her mouth, “is fun.” She rose a hair’s breath to whisper huskily, “But I want more.”

With a growl, he flipped her onto her back and shed his jeans in nearly one swift move. She groaned with pleasure as her pussy was freed. His hands found her apex, stroking lightly, teasing her instead of meeting her demands.

That just meant she’d have to demand harder.