A barn with rafters overhead and a rope dangling from one of them.
Her wrists still tied together in front, Lorelle stood beneath the rope. Slivers of sunlight made their way into the barn between the old boards and glided over her captor's body. He stood several feet away, his arms crossed over his muscled chest, legs spread. He wasn't touching her--and hadn't yet--although Lorelle sensed the potential, the threat and promise. Her breathing came in quick bursts, and her legs burned, proof that she'd recently stopped running after him and his horse. How she'd become his prisoner--and what he intended to do to her--were vital questions. Yet with him so close, she could barely even think those two thoughts, much less anything else.
"You want this," he said. "Every line of your body says you do."
"You don't know me. You don't know what I want," she told her dream man/lover.
"Yes, I do. Just as you know me."
What did he mean by that? Her dream had never progressed this far before. "What do you want from me?"
"Not me, Lorelle. This is all about your desires."
Thankful this was her dream and she controlled her fate, she'd been on the brink of thanking him when she stiffened. Was the light in the barn becoming stronger or were her eyes adjusting? She blinked. The man wasn't young, but he wasn't old, either. Maybe early thirties. His belly was nonexistent, and his muscles were sharply carved. He carried his nudity with strength and pride, as would any man blessed with such height and breadth. His cock lay easy between his legs, waiting for a reason to come to life. His eyes, his incredible eyes, were either dark brown or black, and there seemed to be no end to their depth. They more than spoke to her; they stroked and caressed, challenged. Found her core.
Shit. That was going deep. Since when were her dreams analytical?
"Look up," he ordered. "See what I've prepared for you. It's exactly what you've been waiting for."
He was responsible for the overhead rope, was he? "No! I'd never--"
"Don't! Don't lie to either of us."
I'm not, she wanted to say, but he was right. Her every nerve hummed: she was loose and soft and hot, wet with wanting and waiting. "I don't want to."
"I'll hold you to that. Step one, show me what you want to have happen."
No, she didn't want this responsibility! She needed to be putty in his hands, manipulated and manhandled.
"Go deep inside yourself. What do you find?"
Fear and excitement, along with a million other emotions. Instead of telling him that, she shocked herself by lifting her arms over her head so she could touch the overhead rope. "Tighten it. Make it so I can't get away."
His mouth quirked, and his cock started to harden. "Once I have, there'll be no turning away. No stopping."
Not sure whether she was going to scream or remain silent, Lorelle made a decision. She rose onto her toes and gripped the rope. She looked at her captor and licked her lips.
This was a dream. Her dream. She couldn't get hurt, because she controlled it.