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  All she wanted to do was touch him and hope this was one of those dreams where she could get what she wanted before it dissolved away.

  “Help me,” the man begged, his voice rough, low and raspy, as though he hadn’t used it in a long time. It was as warm as the night, though, like summer sex through his throat. He reached out to her with one large hand, trying to hold his shorts closed with the other and failing miserably. “God, help. I—”

  Caroline closed the distance, the air thick between them, and trailed her fingers across his chest. A dream had never felt this hot under her hand, but she wasn’t going to question it. Blissful fog filled her head, and her breath came quick through her parted lips. If she was going to have a dream of a man she wanted to have sex with on her carousel, he was as close as a man could get.

  “What are you—?” the man murmured, but he did nothing to stop her as she slid her arms around to his back, reveling in his size and the hard muscles under her palms.

  He couldn’t stop staring at her lips. When she leaned in toward his mouth, he didn’t say anything more, stunned. He just watched her approach him and press her lips against his.

  He groaned helplessly, with the same edge of pain that had brought her up to the platform in the first place. This time it made her cunt clench to feel it vibrate through her body, especially when he enveloped her in his strong arms and plastered her against him, his cock wet with pre-cum against her thin tank top. The heat of him seared her and made her sweat.

  She opened her mouth for him, accepted him in, hot and wet, as she rubbed herself against that cock. She wanted him to lift her up so she could wrap her legs around him and feel his shaft between her folds and against her clit. The lace on her panties was suddenly impossible to tolerate, the fabric covering her soft, sensitive pussy wet as she clenched out new trickles of her arousal. On this dream of a summer night, it was as though he melted her from the inside.

  He didn’t lift her up like she wanted. Instead, he brought the two of them to their knees. He sank deep into her mouth, moaning in rhythm with the thrusts of his tongue, hers meeting his every time. Then he leaned over her until she lay on the platform with him above her.

  She clutched at him, digging her short but cared-for nails into his flexing shoulder blades. Like the boa constrictor, this man was thick and dense with muscle, heavy over her. The platform wasn’t comfortable. Her shoulders and pelvis dug into the metal. Still, she wasn’t letting him go for anything. She wouldn’t get sore from dream sex.

  She could get her legs around him now. He canted his hips, thrusting frantically against her wet panties. He was so broad that it hurt her legs a little to be spread so wide against something so unyielding.

  Caroline whimpered as sparks formed against the darkness of her eyelids—and not just from the afterimages of the lights above them.

  The man wrenched away from her mouth and buried his head against her neck, licking and biting her flesh as though he was starving from lust. He stretched the neckline of her tank top down to expose one breast, its nipple tight and pert, begging for that hot, insistent mouth. It was not disappointed.

  Without his kisses stifling her, she couldn’t restrain her moans as she arched up against that firm, wet velvet tongue and relentless suction. He kneaded her other breast as though he had never had breasts in his hands before, but he certainly knew what to do with what was in his mouth now. Caroline tangled her fingers in his short, wavy, black hair. She relaxed her legs away from his bruising hips until they were spread even more, surrendering to the shuddering pleasure he gave her.

  The arch of the canopy caught her moans and magnified them among its brass scrolls. The man’s animalistic, needful groans mingled among them, but she felt them inside more than she heard them, background to her solo. Anyone could have heard and come to investigate, but Caroline didn’t even care, because this was a dream and an audience would only make the pleasure sweeter.

  She had never felt anything like this before—helpless to her own desire, unrestrained from any of the complications or consequences, thrilled under the ministrations of someone she’d never met and couldn’t know. That only made her even more excited as he pushed her tank top up to expose her stomach and both her breasts at once.

  The man gripped her thigh with one hand as he slid large, thick fingers of the other underneath her panties to stroke along her folds, closing his eyes when he felt how wet she was for him.

  Caroline planted her feet on the platform and pushed herself up against his touch. She bit the back of her arm to keep from screaming as he ground the heel of his palm against her clit.

  “You want me.” It wasn’t necessarily a question so much as a moan as he hovered over her, once again captivated by her lips. She licked them, and he panted, his mouth parted.

  “Yes,” Caroline breathed. She cupped the breast that he hadn’t kissed and pinched the nipple hard enough to make herself squirm. So vivid, this dream. She should run away from home more often.

  “I need—can I—please?” The man couldn’t seem to get past a few stilted phrases through his heaving barrel of a chest as he gulped for air.

  She stole even his capacity for that much when she boldly grasped his cock with her free hand. Caroline whimpered. He was so engorged that he was as hard as he looked, the skin almost scorching to the touch. No wonder he sounded like he was in pain. The man moved his fingers through a new draft of her juices as she imagined what that branding iron would feel like inside her. She willed her panties to disappear, but this happened to be one of those dreams where she couldn’t wish something away.

  Instead, she nodded. “Yes. Do it. Fuck me,” she begged. “I want it inside now. Now.”

  Caroline keened when he yanked her panties down over her thighs. She had to bring her legs back together to kick them off the rest of the way. Then he was bearing down on her, frantic, and she didn’t think she was going to be able to stand it. The head pressed against her entrance. She shivered from the liquid sound of it pushing through the wetness of her intense arousal, the kind of intensity that only seemed to happen in dreams, but not quite like this before—this fever, this malady of need to have his cock inside her.

  She usually liked foreplay—licking, kissing, stroking—and she would have liked to explore his body. But she didn’t have the patience and he didn’t have the capacity, not the way he pushed into her and groaned as though she’d stabbed him in the stomach. When her cunt fluttered and clamped down around him, he shouted and thrust deep.

  Caroline dug her nails into his shoulders again, hugging him around his prodigious rib cage. His heartbeat sprinted against her chest. She couldn’t get enough air with his body pressing down over hers, but that was okay. It made the pleasure more urgent.

  The man tightened a fist in her hair and braced his other arm against the platform, depending on her to hold onto him as he shoved his cock into her.

  Their flesh slapped together with the force of his thrusts. He practically tried to pound his way through her. His cock was thick like his body, with a wider base, tapering slightly to the head. It had been a while since she’d last had sex—two years, in fact. Yet she was so open and wet that there was no ache, which only clinched the whole ‘this is a dream’ theory.

  He was big and heavy inside and outside, and she was feeling no pain. Only the excruciating slow climb of her orgasm. She thought she was going to explode if she didn’t come right-the-fuck now. He was bruising her hips, her clit mashing against his skin every time he took her all the way in. He practically growled as he attacked her neck again. He was like a rutting animal, and she was just his beast in heat, tossing her head from side to side and begging him in word and deed to take her higher.

  He pushed himself up on his knees and grasped her thighs, pulling her hips up off the platform as he plunged into her from a new angle. His face was twisted, his teeth bared—it would have been easy to confuse the anguish with anger, but Caroline knew better from the tears that mixed
with the dripping beads of sweat.

  Caroline wailed as his cock struck a spot inside her over and over again that was almost painful, but her belly clenched in pleasure instead. She pulled at her hair, bending her spine into a curve as he fucked her into the strongest climax she’d ever experienced at the hands of lesser mortals in real life.

  Her orgasm swirled and tightened even more strongly around him. He almost sobbed as he doubled over, pressing his face against her chest. Even in her fevered state, he was hotter than she. His tears were cool, but he didn’t come.

  “I can’t. I can’t. It won’t let me. Please. Please help me.” He snapped his hips almost involuntarily, making her twitch around him.

  “Why? What’s wrong?” Caroline asked. She ran her fingers through his hair, now endearingly tousled from the way she had grabbed at him.

  He pulled out of her. His cock was covered with her slick juices, so much so that there was a thread of liquid between the tip of his cock and her cunt. He clenched his eyes shut as he pulled back farther and broke the thread. He opened and closed his hand near the subtly pulsing shaft that pushed its bulbous head against his stomach and left a wet smear. It was as though he wanted to stroke it but winced at the thought of doing so. Instead, he gestured to the ring around the base of his cock and around his balls, pendulous and heavy.

  “I can’t take it off. I’ve tried. There’s no clasp. It’s just…there,” the man said.

  Caroline sat up. She rested her hands on his hips to keep him still. In the dim light, she couldn’t be sure, but she inspected as much of the leather as she could. He was right. It appeared to be seamless, a masterpiece of torturous craftsmanship.

  The man whimpered as she took his balls in her hand and lifted them, checking the part of the ring near his perineum. He made the most wonderful sounds. With his musky smell, those moans and whines and growls and his magnificent body still before her, her empty cunt grasped its own hollowness, wishing that the cock so near her cheek was inside again.

  “I can’t find…” Caroline began. She trailed her fingers back up to the ring around the shaft.

  Then there was no cock ring at all.

  The man shouted, pitching forward. Caroline fell back onto her elbows. The man gasped, thrusting again into the air.

  Caroline didn’t stop to think. She took the dripping, sticky head of his cock into her mouth, lapping at the salty, slightly bitter, slightly sweet mixture of their arousal on his flesh. She cupped his sac again, fascinated by its weight, and she kneaded it in encouragement. He didn’t need much. His cries echoed off the metal of the carousel for the benefit of their inanimate, wooden audience.

  As soon as she grabbed his ass to bring him a little deeper, shivering at the way that she affected him, his balls drew up in her hand. His shaft jerked against her tongue and she had to pull back before he could shove his cock all the way down her throat. Poor man couldn’t hold back anymore. She didn’t know how long he’d been restrained, but it had clearly been long enough for the man to lose his mind.

  What was she doing looking for a narrative timeline in a dream anyway?

  He pulsed stream after stream of hot cum into her mouth. She twisted her head over his cock to suck it down and moved her hand away from his balls to wring the shaft, milking him, swallowing, swallowing. It seemed to go on forever, the way dreams do. And she couldn’t get enough, even though it stung her throat.

  His fingers scrabbled at her shoulders. “Stop. Stop, too much,” he groaned.

  She withdrew. Though the pressure had lessened, whitish cum still spilled down the shaft where she squeezed and stroked him, but more slowly now.

  “Ah! Fuck. God, so good. So long…” He slumped over her, barely bracing himself up. He flinched when she bent down to lick his cum-streaked erection until there was none left except on her hand. She wiped it on her shirt when she pulled her tank top down again. It was filthy anyway. They were both filthy.

  Caroline fell back against the platform, panting. She turned her head to the side to try to find where she had kicked her panties. She had to do some flexible maneuvering not to move from under the man, but she managed to toe her panties onto her ankle. The man was considerate enough to collapse next to her so she could pull them back on. The fabric was cool against her folds where she’d dampened them.

  Her sweat dried on her skin, but his warmth still seeped through her. In spite of the summer night, she tucked herself closer, breathing in the spiciness of his male scent.

  “I can’t thank you enough, and I can never repay you.” His slight accent became more apparent when he relaxed.

  But her eyes closed and she was drifting again, clinging to the memory of her dream and hoping it would stay, like an imprint in her mind. She’d hate to lose this one.

  Chapter Four

  Caroline woke up to a knock at her hatch door. Her blankets were tangled at her feet, and she was face down on her pillow. She probably had some amusing creases on her face.

  But she also felt fucking fantastic.

  As she pushed herself up, the dream didn’t drain away from her head and through her fingers like most did. Thank God for small favors. She’d file that one good and proper for future reference. She hadn’t just brought clothes and her tablet and phone. She’d stuffed her ‘personal massager’ in her bag, too. Caroline knew her priorities.

  Caroline lifted her door just enough to indicate she was awake and to listen for a voice.

  “Hi, Caroline. You haven’t met me yet, but I wanted to invite you to breakfast with the rest of us.”

  The voice was female, so Caroline pushed the door all the way up then tugged her shirt down a little so that it covered her stomach. The shirt was still clean, as it should be, although her panties were a little uncomfortable—that wasn’t such a surprise.

  The Bearded Lady peered down at her, already wearing her corset and a long, flowing skirt. Caroline never thought she’d feel anything other than pity for a woman with that much hair all over her body, but up close, Caroline found the woman actually quite…pretty. Maybe it had taken her a while to learn how to hold and dress herself to play up her feminine assets, to comb the hair so that it looked silky soft. She didn’t try to hide her hairy arms, legs, face and chest—they just were, and the woman carried herself as though to dare anyone to care when she didn’t.

  Caroline still wanted to keep herself groomed and shave her legs—even more now than a few minutes ago, because her thighs rubbed against each other and the tiny bristles characteristic of mornings before a shower chafed against the skin. But she could respect someone like Kitty.

  She bet the woman would slay wearing a bikini and sticking it to the rest of society.

  “You’re Kitty, right?” Caroline said.

  “That’s me. I’ve talked with Bell. He said to let you wear what you like today…within reason, of course, so not what you’re wearing now,” Kitty added with a smile. “But after we get on the road, I’ll start working on a few costumes for you with Sasha’s help. She’s our leather miracle worker. When we settle down again, I should be able to talk with you about what kind of image you want. The sky’s the limit, but I have a few ideas just looking at you.”

  “And you probably know what you’re doing better than me,” Caroline said. “Do you manage everyone’s costumes?”

  “Not everyone’s. Some of the cast prefer to take care of themselves. But I’m responsible for a good number, and I’ve been doing it for a while. Part of the reason I volunteered to invite you to breakfast was to get an idea of your measurements. I think we can probably retool some of Valorie’s original costumes instead of working from scratch.”

  “Which one’s Valorie?”

  “Our contortionist. She prefers catsuits, leotards, pants and things like that these days,” Kitty said. “She’s taller than you, but that just means we’d hem them up. What would you prefer? You’re not functioning as a performer, so you get some leeway.”

  “I’d kind of prefe
r pants, but leather pants in summer seems like a mistake,” Caroline replied.

  “You’d think so, but like I said, Sasha works miracles. They’re quite breathable. I just don’t wear the leather because it tends to rub my fur the wrong way,” Kitty said. The smile in Kitty’s eyes suggested she probably meant it in fun, although Caroline could see how leather and hairiness didn’t necessarily mix.

  “I’ll let Sasha know you’ve commissioned some leather pants,” Kitty added.

  “I’m okay with skirts and dresses, too, especially for summer. It’s not like anyone would be able to see up them when I’m in my chair anyway,” Caroline said. “I haven’t thought this far ahead. I mean, I hadn’t even planned to join the circus until yesterday.”

  “Well, you’re handling it better than I did after my first circus audition,” Kitty said. “And you got in faster.”

  “That’s…kind of weird.” What kind of world was this, where it was easier for un-unusual Caroline to join the circus than a woman who looked like a trendy werewolf?

  Kitty laughed. “Bell’s kind of weird, but he must have liked you to snatch you up before you could get away. Want to walk to the big top with me? After putting on some pants, of course.”

  “I don’t know. It’s only breakfast. I’m not used to getting dressed before breakfast,” Caroline joked.

  “Well, I’m sure some of our people won’t mind the view,” Kitty said. “Sometimes Melanie’s completely naked during breakfast.”

  “Which one’s Melanie?”

  “The mermaid,” Kitty replied.

  “If I was in the water all the time getting all pruny, I’d probably come in naked too. Let me find some pants. I think I’ll take a shower before breakfast, though.”

  Kitty crouched at the entrance and peered in while she gathered the things she’d need.

  “There’s a shower in there? A very creatively designed shower?” Kitty asked.

  “Mr. Madoc said I could use his, as long as it wasn’t, ah, conspicuously occupied.”