Fucking the God of My Dreams

Nina is a PI with supernatural connections. When she’s hired to tail a cheating husband, she goes right to her top informant - Marius, the god of beds, who knows every dirty secret. But how will she pay for his knowledge? This story is 3900 words of rough m/f sex, submission, and your naughtiest dreams come true!

Excerpt

 I enjoy calling on Marius for more than just information. I do, however, fix my hair. With a thought, it’s perfect and wavy once more, and several inches longer than in the real world.

There’s enough room between the beds to walk around the dream world if one were so inclined, but walking here is completely unnecessary. “Marius,” I call out. Not a shout – he could hear his name if I wrote it in a pool of water in this place – but a confident statement. Still, I spoke loud enough that the people in the nearest beds will probably wonder why that name popped into their dreams when they wake up, and who it is.

“Nina,” a strong, masculine voice calls out behind me, followed by a stifled yawn. “What a pleasant surprise.” I turn around, then stretch myself across the bed, propping myself up on my elbows and crossed forearms and showing a tantalizing amount of my breasts, without revealing them entirely.

Marius, the god of beds stands at the edge of mine, as naked as me. Technically he’s only a ‘small’ god, his purview being lesser than those of the big boys, like fire, creation, or oceans. However, I can’t think of many things more foolish than calling any god ‘small’. He’s tall and muscular, with broad shoulders and powerful limbs. His sharply defined abs form a perfect arrow pointing down to his delightfully large godhood. He has a handsome, Classical look, with short dark hair and an aquiline nose. Done in marble, his bust could sit in harmony with emperors and philosophers.

At least, this is the image he wants to present. He’s hiding some things behind illusions, but I know him intimately enough to see through them. He has hair a Caesar would envy, but it’s disheveled, as though he just woke up. His olive skin is pale from living in a world of constant night. His eyes are bloodshot, with large dark bags underneath them.

I never hold it against him, though: I would look just as haggard if I hadn’t slept for four hundred years, too.

“Hello, Marius.” I look up at his handsome face, but I can see his glorious **** at the edge of my vision, pulling at my eyes. He’s standing so close I could lean out and kiss it, and I very much want to do just that.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” It might be rude for me to stare at his ****, but being a god has its privileges, such as ignoring such niceties if you feel like it. His eyes travel down my back and focus on my naked ***. I shift my hips and adjust my legs, and he smiles lustily as he meets my eyes.

“I want to ask you some questions about someone,” I say as I return his smile. “That, and it has simply been too long since last time.” My **** floods and aches at the thought of our last time together.

“Indeed it has. Who is this person you wish to learn about?” He steps a bit closer, and I can feel the heat of his body on my face. My heart skips a beat, but only one.

“His name is Walter Kelley. It’s for a case I’m working, a cheating husband.”

“Perhaps I know something of him. What do you offer me?”

I laugh. “Oh please, Marius, you know every dirty little secret. Modesty doesn’t become you. As for my offer…” I stop holding back, and lean forward to plant a kiss on his ****. It stirs at my touch, and I open my mouth to take his godhood in.