You Feel Like a Dream (18+)

Know me

    I must have slept off into a dream, another dream inside of a dream. I don't recall moments of our last words before me falling asleep. All of it was catching up to me; I needed rest. He is more use to a schedule like this, perhaps even using his body in such rampant like states. He was much more comfortable doing, and I was more comfortable being.

   I snuggled up in the most sensational sheets and blankets, the fireplace in the bedroom dimly enough to light the entire master suite a glow. It was so serene and tranquil. The window drapery was opened. The sky was growing darker as the afternoon faded into the night—no sound other then the wind blowing fiercely. The snow was coming in billows that covered every inch of green that was left. As my eyes lids opened wider, I turned from on my side to on my stomach. My arms stretched out underneath the cool, but the warmth from the many pillows I rested on and in. It was a fairy, tale bed. I could see somewhat out the windows. It looked so beautiful, so romantic it too was like a dream, but better.

   I laid there for several moments, not looking at the clock on purpose. I loathe watches, clocks, and type of timekeeping. It makes me feel anxious and rushed. There was nothing about these moments. Even the fighting, I would not want to rush. As I finally did glance over, it was after 8 pm. I very slowly, almost dazed state, I walked into the bathroom to freshen up. I found my way back into the bedroom suite and put on some comfortable loungewear he had gifted me with.

  
    I opened the door to the hallway leading to the stairs. I could see some of downstairs from upstairs. The fire was blazing; I heard the weather station on. He was in the kitchen; I did smell something delicious as I grazed my hand down the banister of the stairway. I faced him in the kitchen. He smiled brightly when he realized I was standing there. " Good Evening, my love, how was your sleep? You must be knackered, my poor darling." He said, rubbing his hands together, and then air-drying them from a scrub. He walked towards me with another beautiful smile, this one with his teeth biting on his lip as he almost strutted that oozed sex. I reached my arms around his neck, his head dipping down to have his plump lips pucker onto mine. Our lips met, and I pull away. "AYE LOVE....!" He said loud and raspy. " What kinda kiss was that." Pulling me into him, kissing me hard, as if he had not seen me in weeks. We embrace for several moments.

 
  Tongue enveloping one another's. His hand, the soft inner palm of his skin on my face. Grazing my throat, my neck, my décolletage, slowly removing his lips from mine. His hand roughly manipulating his way through my mermaid wavy long hair to my scalp. Tugging lightly, pulling my head back and to the right side, he directs me with his hand. Kissing every inch of my neck, down to my cozy buttoned-up shirt. Which with precise precision, you unbuttoned each pearl ball quickly. Breathing into my ear, saying nothing but feeling everything. I stopped him placing my hands on either side of his stubbled face. Looking into his eyes, almost a golden shade already staring at me. " I love this," I say to him softly. " and I love you!"
Shyly I whispered, looking down at my feet.

      Placing his hand on my chin, pulling my face back up to his. Licking my bottom lip with his, then pulling his tongue back into his mouth. Peeking his tongue out in a curled motion, he licks my upper lips. With both his full plump lips, he covers mine. " I believe it's possible for two people to connect on such a level that it hurts to not be around them. I missed you when you were sleeping. I believe you absolutely could feel such love for a person just due to the chemistry you feel in each other's presence." He says matter of factly in his very notable accent—one of the many many attributes this man attains. " I agree," I say sheepishly, walking around him now shirt opened, bare breasts flow gently and softly in my decadent new top. I wasn't in the mood for an in-depth conversation. I've noticed this about actors, especially they either engage in deep discussions or they don't speak much at all.

  I walk to the decanter on the sleek marble countertop. I pour myself a few light splashes of Knob Creek. I sip it slowly, and it warms my stomach.  Looking at him, watching me, he isn't wearing a shirt—just joggers, slippers, and his neck chain that hangs ever so perfectly around his skin. Standing across from him in the kitchen, some skin exposed. We just smile at one another.  At some point, we need to face real life again. Blizzards end, and so does bliss. That's what all this was. It was blissful. Anyone else would say. What a fucking joke; this doesn't happen. Let alone happy with Tom Hardy. But it was happening; I take a gulp now, he laughs. Grabbing a bottle of wine out of the wine chiller, placing it on the center island, opening it, so it has time to ferment. He doesn't drink much, but he does have his etiquette down pat.  He already knows what makes me delighted; his actions spoke louder than his words. That was a rarity, especially someone in an industry playing make-believe. He wasn't phony, he was humble, but he was also strong with conviction. I would doubt many or if anyone says no to him.

" What are you making?" I say to him inquisitively. " Soufflés! Do you like aye? " that sensual tone he uses often. The one that sends me into a frenzy. Every word, how he makes his pronunciations sound like a song you could play on repeat for hours. He places his pointer finger on his blushed lips as to say Shhhh..... That we wouldn't disturb the soufflés rising.

I walked towards the glowing fireplace. Sparkling and gilding the room, the marble the magnificent of this grand room. I head near the pool that illuminating the room as well. It looks so inviting with the snow showering outside, and this still body of aquamarine-colored water. I stood there, taking in the beauty, and I let my velvety-soft shirt drift off my shoulders down my back and arms until it drops to the floor, silently. He walks closer now, leaning on the kitchen island facing my back." You're so mysterious," he softly speaks—almost a whisper. I grin to myself, knowing just what I am doing. I turn my head over my right shoulder and see him out of the corner of my eye. He's leaning, and his legs are folded his arms crossed, just watching me. I slid down my lounge pants, stepped out of my slippers. I stood there, allowing my hair to tousle down my backside. He let out a moan, a moan that sent spectacular shivers down my spine. He comes up behind me reasonably quickly. Gliding my hair from my backside over my right shoulder.

  He leaned his hand over my neck, back, and the bare luminescent skin on my shoulder. I had brushed myself with pearl powered to make my skin seem like it was covered in faerie dust. A little secret I keep. He reached his right arm around the front of me, reaching up to my breast. Softly grazing the nipple to make it engorge. " I love your nipples." He said, kissing my neck, still caressing my nipple hard then soft. He teased so well. Slowly and taking his time, covering every inch of my skin with his delicious meaty lips. They give off enough heat. It keeps me warmer than the fire blazing in front of us.