An Excerpt From: FULL RIDE
(c) Copyright GAIL FAULKNER, 2005.
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave, Inc.
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It was Her! Shock overwhelmed him as she'd stepped into the room. This living, breathing woman was His Dream Angel. Lounging against the bar as she entered saved him the humiliation of sinking to his knees in stunned disbelief. As ordered, she'd arrived exactly on time in a trench coat and heels. Looking up at him, her lovely face seemed to be all big brown eyes. Behind her, masses of rippling strawberry-blonde hair streamed down her back. The two of them had stared at each other for almost a full minute after the door clicked shut behind her. Neither moved until she stripped off the coat and laid it over the back of a chair. Just as he'd mandated in the contract she wore nothing under that coat.
Dream Angel was five foot seven, with a familiar oval face. Her large eyes were slightly tilted and the color of warm chocolate. The luminous skin was pale cream that looked like silk. Her nose was slender and straight. Those lips were full and softly expressive. Damn! She wasn't what he'd expected. This exquisite woman had been made for sin. It was a good thing she'd snapped out of their mutual stare first and followed her instructions. He'd been too astonished to move. Then that delectable body went on display and he'd been unable to stand still. His struggle for composure became monumental as he now moved around her. This inspection of the curvy body that trembled and gushed at his every touch stretched his self-control to torturous limits.
Anxious to think of a way to regroup after the shock of seeing her, he returned to the bar as soon as possible. Getting a drink was an attempt to calm down. He was desperate for a chance to look at something other than her spectacular body. Breathe idiot! His brain hissed at him. Just take deep breathes and think of baseball. Squeezing his eyes shut the moment his back was to her didn't help. That sensuous body was burned into his eyelids. He could barely remember what baseball was. Every glorious inch of her trembled and glowed like a vision that wouldn't fade.
He'd dreamed of this woman for what seemed like his entire life. Each feature, right down to the delicate facial bone structure was made for his pleasure. She embodied the perfect figment of the male imagination that showed-up for every jack-off session since the age of twelve. Most guys used any number of visuals but he'd only used one. His entire life there had been only one face in his mind. This was HIS woman!
Recently, twenty-four months ago to be exact, she'd become so much more. Exploring her in his mind kept him sane like nothing else could. Defining their relationship in intimate detail was his only escape from the endless, grinding pain. Dream Angel became more real than the utter hell he'd endured. She made it possible to drift away when reality wasn't worth living anymore. Dream Walking is a handy talent when you're locked up in the armpit of the world. The practice of Dream Walking among The Nations was a loosely held secret. Most people believe Peyote rituals are required to walk with spirits. That mistaken conviction shields numerous unexplainable events. Grandfather once told him Dream Walking would save his life. He'd not thought about the gloomy statement. Not until he needed his Dream Angel to survive. His last mission went "bad" in a big way. He'd acquired the hostage. However, in doing so had stumbled into a meeting of two terrorist organizations. It wasn't just the local yahoos, but highly trained guerrilla forces present when he went in. He'd delivered the hostage to the extraction point, but for the rescue to succeed he'd remained to lay down cover fire. Hence, some really pissed off psychopaths acquired him.
His life then became the source of fierce competition between the two terrorist leaders. They passed him back and forth each month. Several high-stakes bets rode on which faction would break him first. These were very creative individuals when it came to torture. His death would lose the bet for whoever caused it, so they'd been careful not to kill him. The big mistake was assuming that since he was captured alone and the government wasn't actively negotiating, nobody was coming.
At one point during a Dream Walk, he'd decided to remain in his Dream Angel's arms. He planned to just stay with her until there was nothing more. She wouldn't let him, and gently breathed life back into him with her words. She fed her spirit into an almost dead will to survive. Dream Angel demanded he believe in hope. As it turned out, rescue came a week later.
It required a clenched jaw and gritted teeth to keep from sucking wind at the astonishing sight of his Dream Angel in the flesh. Years of concentrated endurance training kept his facial muscles immobile as she moved to her required position. Mostly the hours of torture endurance did it for him. Nothing else even came close to the self-control required to dominate her as she needed right now.
That brought him smack up against his most pressing problem. How was he going to alter the deal? Now this venue restricted him. Now that it was her. This wasn't how he wanted to start with her. For her, he was perfectly willing to fall on his knees and beg her to teach him. Teach him her touch, her smell, her essence. Teach him the ways to make her smile, how to know when she was sad. Show him the things he needed to know to memorize her soul. A steady stream of expletives spiraled in his head. Damn that airtight contract he'd both written and signed. How was he supposed to comply with that contract when the other half of his soul had just walked through the door? Not some stranger! The contract gave him this one night. Only this night, governed by the rules they'd both agreed to. Then it ripped her away from him. There was no margin for error. No time to move cautiously into a relationship. He had to find a way to reach into her and touch her from the inside out. Show her she was already the air he breathed. Well, hell. How he'd get around it wasn't clear right now. Nonetheless, the ability to alter a plan in a fluid situation kept him and his kind alive a long time. Another talent passed down from a people who had refused to be cornered or contained.
He needed to wrap his mind around the reality of this woman immediately. The fact that he'd stumbled onto the only lover who could complete him was hard to believe. He'd never dreamed that she could be alive in his time. For about two seconds he contemplated asking her to trash the contract and start over. The problem was, doing so released her to walk out the door, if she wanted to. No. No. Wait. This could work. The contract restricted him, but it also controlled her. He could do this! His first priority had to be binding her to him. The Dom/sub relationship was actually a pretty effective way to demonstrate how completely they belonged together. Besides, just looking at her sucked the air from his lungs, he knew in that moment that he could not, would not, let her go.
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