Don’t we all have them?
Every which way we turn we see something related to sex. So it’s only normal that we have sexy dreams, and sometimes with people outside of our partner. This doesn’t mean we want to run out, find this person and get laid. I think it can mean different things for different people. Recently, I had a wild & crazy dream about SOA’s Ryan Hurst. He has thick, long hair, bushy beard and he’s a rough MC man, so the attraction is obvious, but no…really…no. I watched every episode of SOA and not one time did any part of my body spasm, moisten or tweak when Ryan came on scene. I’m not saying that he’s not handsome, he just isn’t my normal type, whatever that is…just not his character in SOA. In the dream he was very “take charge” and attentive. He was very gentle. Caring. But a freak in the bed. LOL.
Picture Credit: Gage Skidmore
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Welcome to Nirvana—your wish is a cowboy’s command.
Kaycee Darling has one thing on her mind…getting the juiciest, most provocative stories that will boost her career as a journalist. Setting her sights on Nirvana, Wyoming’s fastest-growing retreat for the high-society, she won’t stop until she’s proven the R&R is nothing more than a romanticized meat market for the lonely of heart.
Chase Sever believes he’s finally taken care of the journalist who has been breathing down his neck and can start concentrating on the expansion of his pride and joy—Nirvana Ranch. He doesn’t have time for romance, but when a sassy siren arrives at his ranch, he suddenly has a clear schedule. She’s smart, bubbly, and has a body that could make a cowboy melt in his boots, but he suspects there’s more to her than meets the eye. Is she really who she says she is?
She has Chase right where she wants him, but what she finds might change her beliefs on Nirvana, compassion and love…or she might have roped in more trouble than she can handle.
He was gentle and loving as he touched her like she was an expensive harp and he was the musician. She could practically hear the music.
He dipped a finger into her navel, swirling the tip of his pinky inside of the cave, then slid his fingers to the slit between her thighs. He parted her seam, moving carefully into the nest and rolled the pad of his thumb over the beaded flesh. She cried out, digging her fingers into his shoulders.
Her skin tingled, burned, blood scorching. He pushed a finger into her opening, then joined it with another, until he filled her–stretching her. He moved his digits in and out, thrusting slow then faster, and slowing again. He played an erotic game with her senses, taking her higher, only to bring her down, but only to take her back to a higher plateau. This was all new to her, an ocean of dangerous waves without a life jacket. The desire pounded her, tempting her, dragging her out where she must give herself completely, without reserve.
She trembled in his arms, clinging to him, holding him close.
“Say my name, baby. Say it!” he urged.
“I love hearing you cry my name. I want it to be the only one you ever call out.”
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