Dream a Little Dream Read online

  “Hello yourself, dollface.” The gangster voice slipped out of him and should’ve sounded stupid, but didn’t.

  The woman laughed. “Vo-do-dee-oh-doe, lover. You look real handsome in that getup. How’s about we go find a speakeasy, get ourselves some bathtub gin and maybe do a little canoodling?”

  It sounded good to him. But first, a kiss. Nice and sweet. Her lips, warm and soft beneath his. When she opened for him, Butler took her tongue. His hands found her hips. She looked up at him with bright and shining eyes.

  “You’re a really great kisser, Butler.”

  “You remember me.”

  “Of course I do.” She pushed onto her tiptoes to kiss him again. “You think I do this with a whole bunch of fellas every night, or what?”

  He hadn’t really thought much about it. Dreams being dreams and all, they were as likely to be chased by a raging dinosaur as they were to find a speakeasy. He pulled her a little closer against him, aware that the streetscape was changing, slipping and sliding into something else, but too focused on her to care. “What did you say your name was, again?”

  “I didn’t. What do you want to call me?”

  “I want to call you by your name,” Butler said.

  “Try to guess it. I bet you can.”

  He did, thinking hard. He almost had it, but it slipped away from him in a flutter of gossamer moth wings. Literally. Sparks of light and dancing moths swirled from his mouth when he opened it, releasing a soft hiss but not her name.

  “Not as nice as showers of gold, but better than toads and snakes, I guess.” The woman turned to watch the moths flying away before looking back at him. “You know that fairy tale?”

  He did. There were a few of them, as a matter of fact, where a witch cursed someone to drop amphibians from their lips with every word. “Malificent. No. That can’t be your name. But is it close? M...M...Millie.”

  “Millie will do,” she said, and did the Charleston for a second or so before giving him a smile that shot heat all through him. “Tell me, Butler. What’s going on in dreamland for you tonight?”

  “You are, I hope.” He couldn’t get enough of her. Couldn’t pull her close enough. Couldn’t get his mouth on hers fast enough.

  And the beauty of it was, she let him. Not only let him, but seemed as enthusiastic about it as he was. They kissed, hard and long, barely breaking to breathe. Did they even need air in a dream?

  “No, we don’t need air, we can breathe just fine,” Millie said into his mouth as they floated, water closing over their heads and stripping away their clothes as though the lake had hands.

  Water everywhere, caressing. Stroking. Warm and sleek, it lifted them both, making them weightless. They rolled, over and over, limbs entwined and mouths fused.

  When she slid down his body to take him in her mouth, Butler cried out, expecting bubbles to cascade out of him and burst on the water’s surface. But there seemed to be no surface. Nothing to mark their depth. Only water all around them, and he gave himself up to that wonder as easily as he did to the pleasure of Millie’s lips and teeth and tongue caressing his cock. She cupped his balls, stroking backward with her thumb along the seam and finding the sensitive flesh between testicles and anus. He jerked, but the water held him up, allowing him to arch and curve with her every stroking suck.

  He came, but didn’t ejaculate. He came again when she moved up his body to seat him inside her. And once more when her body tightened around his and she shuddered, moaning his name into his mouth.

  Together they spun slowly, suspended no longer in warm water, but what looked liked the black expanse of space, sprinkled with stars. She fit so right against him, he never wanted to let her go. Her hair had grown while they fucked. Over her shoulders, halfway down her back in long auburn waves.

  “I like this,” he said.

  “You did it,” she murmured against him. “You made that happen.”

  Butler held her a little closer. “I did?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” He asked, and she laughed.

  “I don’t know, sweetheart. Maybe you like redheads.” She pushed up on an elbow to run a fingertip over his eyebrows, then down his nose to tap against his lips. “Tell me something, Butler Meadows.”

  “Anything,” he offered. It felt like the right thing to say.

  Millie laughed lightly. “What kind of woman do you like? What’s your ideal?”

  It seemed an odd question to be asked in a dream, but he went with it. Because, dream. “Honesty. Intelligence. A good sense of humor. She has to get me. You know? Really get me.”

  “Those are the things everyone says they want,” she pointed out, nuzzling against him again.

  “Red hair,” he said. “I guess I like red hair. And she has to look good wearing my shirt. And if she likes to cook meatballs, man, that would be excellent, too.”

  “Meatballs,” Millie said. “Gotcha.”

  There was a pause in which the world around them swirled and shifted. Rainbow colors. In the distance, the sound of a carnival. For a second, he yearned for that, the smell of popcorn and petting zoo. He tasted cotton candy melting on his tongue.

  “You feel right. In my arms like this. You feel really right,” Butler said.

  “You feel right, too,” Millie said.

  More silence. Things were fading, and he wanted to cling to them.

  “It’s time to wake up.”

  “Wait, no—”

  But it was too late. His alarm had begun its steady beeping, and he was awake. Butler rolled over, sweeping the empty expanse of his bed for her, but of course she wasn’t there.

  * * *

  “Would you...um...Mariella. Would you like to...um...”

  Butler was so endearing, it made her want to scream. Could he be any cuter? Mariella pressed her phone to her ear as she folded towels, her usual Sunday morning chore. After the dream Friday night, she’d waited to see if Butler called her on Saturday. He hadn’t, but had sent a few texts to tell her that he was busy doing some errands for his parents, and that he was thinking of her.

  Thinking of you.

  Three words that could mean as much as those other three little words everyone was always going on about. Mariella’s last lover had never been the sort to woo her with pretty words. He’d never said he missed her, or thought of her. Of course, she hadn’t loved him, so in the end it hadn’t mattered, but still. This was nice.

  “What, Butler?” she said finally when he stayed silent.

  “Would you like to meet me this afternoon for coffee?”

  Mariella didn’t pause, not for a second. “Yes. Absolutely. Where?”

  “Oh. I didn’t think...” Butler coughed. “I mean, yeah! Great. Wow. That was easy.”

  “Are you calling me easy?” she teased, just to listen to him sputter for a few seconds. “Shh. Relax. Of course I want to meet you. Coffee sounds great.”

  “Morningstar Mocha? They have great food, too. We could get a sandwich.”

  “I don’t know, Butler. A sandwich?” Mariella made herself sound doubtful. “First it was coffee, now you want to eat a sandwich? Slow down, Speed Racer.”

  Then they both laughed.

  “I like you,” Butler said.

  Her heart thumped. “You sound surprised.”

  “Not that I like you,” he said. “Just that I said it.”

  “I’m glad you did. I don’t think there should ever be a reason not to tell someone you like them, if you do.”

  “Agreed. So, four at the Mocha?”

  “Yes,” she told him. “And, Butler...I like you, too.”

  * * *

  What to wear? Mariella sent up a prayer to the gods of fashion emergencies. The last date she’d been on had been with a guy she’d known