and shared her story. She had given me all of her. And I wanted to give her all of me. I was going to make her my queen.
Just before sleep claimed me, I kissed her soft scalp once more and let her beautiful name roll off my tongue like a lullaby.
“I love you, Olive Cumming.”
“I love you too, Owen King.”
It was like a slo-mo scene out of a movie. We were holding hands…Olive and me…running barefoot through a field of poppies, inhaling them like they were opium, getting high as a kite on our love. Her laughter filled the air as butterflies danced overhead. The sun shone brightly, bringing out the highlights of her golden hair, flying behind her. My heart beating with love, I slowed down my pace and ultimately brought us to a halt. Cupping her shoulders, I spun her around so she was facing me. I loved that she was so petite next to my tall, broad frame and had to crane her neck to look up at me. Her eyes sparkled like dewdrops as she licked her curved upper lip—a small gesture that sent my cock into a tailspin. I had to have her. Right now. Right here. The impassioned expression on her face said the same thing. Hungering for her, I lifted off her sheer dress while she tugged at the drawstring of my linen pants. In no time, we were bared to each other. My cock swelled at the sight of her flawless creamy white flesh in this sea of red. Her luscious rose-tipped tits quivered in the gentle breeze. Her beauty had no rival. I reached out to touch her, and as my hand touched down to caress her, in a flash she was gone! Just like that. She had evaporated into thin air!
“Olive!” I cried out, flinging my hand across my bed. My heart skipped a beat. She was gone. Out of my dreams. And out of my life. I bolted to a sitting position, my heart thudding beneath the cold sweat that clustered on my chest. She was gone. All that remained was the outline of her lush body. Beneath the covers, my morning wood throbbed as panic set in and my dream filled my head. What did it mean? Was it some kind of premonition? I had lost her? Maybe she was never mine and I was just dreaming that she was? I inhaled through my nose to calm down, and an unexpected intoxicating aroma wafted into the room. I knew that smell! Though it had never filled the air of this big house, I remembered it fondly from my childhood. It was unmistakably the smell of bacon and eggs coming from my kitchen. As another delectable scent mingled with it—that of fresh coffee brewing—footsteps sounded in the hall. In a few relieved breaths, she was standing at the doorway.
My Olive! Barefoot, she was wearing my white dress shirt. Falling over her lush curves, it hung to her knees, and the sleeves were rolled up at least a dozen times. The top buttons were left open giving me a bird’s-eye view of her sublime cleavage. Fuck. She looked sexy as hell. I could eat her whole. My cock raged beneath the covers.
“Hi,” she said sweetly.
“Hi,” I said back. “Did you sleep well?”
That dazzling dimpled smile lit up her face. “Oh, yes! It was the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had!”
“Good.” I smiled, pushing my disturbing dream out of my mind. “I slept well too.” Ha! That was an understatement. Except for the brutal awakening, it was the best sleep I’d ever had too. I loved having her soft body next to mine and hearing her breathe. In the middle of the night, I’d woken up to find that she had rolled over onto her back. The beam of moonlight that slipped through the bedroom curtains illuminated her porcelain-skinned face. Her lips were gently parted, forming a little smile, and her long-lashed eyes fluttered ever so slightly as if she were having some kind of dream. Her ample breasts rose up and down as she breathed. Her lustrous hair was fanned out across the pillow. I swear she totally looked like some kind of angel sent down from heaven. A peacefulness enveloped her. Tenderly, I’d traced her soft lips with my finger, careful not to wake her. Watching a woman sleep was a novelty for me. I could have stared at her for hours.
“I made bacon and eggs,” she said brightly,