Socks and Stockings Ch. 03

"What's wrong?" I blinked, trying to catch my breath in confused agitation. "Why did you stop?" I asked, feeling as if I could burst into tears.

"Stop?" his voice was soft like velvet on my ears. I blinked again and looked into his face. His loving blue-eyes looked back, full of... concern.

"You were dreaming. I was afraid for a second there," he said easing to the mattress. It took a few seconds to put two and two together; he was right. I looked down at the satin camisole clinging to my sweat-slicked body. I shifted my body backwards and the elastic of the satin shorts pinched my hip. Flabbergasted, I stared into space for a second.

"What...?"

"I could hear you... moaning," he said, a warmth filling his eyes. "When I came in, I saw tears on your face." he added. "You were tossing and turning. I thought you were having a nightmare," Jack said, resting a hand on mine. I looked down blankly at his hand, so massive over my small one, so caring and sure. I rubbed the covered fingers together and realized they were sticky. I must have been... Was I...? I inhaled deep through my nose. The room was hot, misty almost and the smell of sex hung thick in the air.

"What were you dreaming about?" he asked. There was an odd twinkle in his eyes and I wondered for a moment whether I had screamed out his name in my sleep. The dream had been so strong. Even though we were virtually strangers while awake, I had known him just a few moments before... intimately. I knew the sound of his voice as it confessed deep, dark, intimate words to me. 'I want to fuck you,' I remembered him saying. I knew the feeling of his hand making me wet. I knew the feeling of his adamant, commanding prick as it occupied every inch of my pussy. And it had all turned back into a pumpkin in a split second.

I was lost in his eyes again as he waited for an answer to his question. Tears clouded my vision again. I fell into Jack's arms and cried like a baby into the terrycloth at his shoulder.

"Don't cry, little Eve. Tell me what happened," he said. His hand rubbed the back of my head, his fingertips occasionally pressing therapeutically against my skull.

"I can't..."

I heard my voice say the words again, the same ones from the dream. He'd told me in the dream, "Tell me what you want..." Remembering only made me cry harder. But while I cried, the last little sane piece of my psyche was asking, Why am I crying so hard? He repeated his soothing rub, still trying to calm me with words that just were so... unwanted...

"Don't cry, Eve. It was just a dream."