It Came Upon a Midnight Dream Read online

  Sans gates. And clothes. Hell, I wouldn’t knock a good wet dream, and considering that was the only shot at lucky I dared to hope for, well...

  I popped a TV dinner in the oven and turned on the news as I padded toward my room to change clothes. Ah, the life of the single working girl. The only perk of being single that came to mind was that if I didn’t feel like shaving, I didn’t have to. Wasn’t like I had anyone around to stay silky smooth for.

  I’d just pulled my potpie out of the oven when I heard the tail end of a report on the television regarding a tiger loose in the city. Snatching a spoon from the drawer, I raced over to the television to try to catch more about the story.

  Flashes of the Bronx whizzed by as did an unsettling notion the pictures the newscasters were showing appeared to be coming closer to my neighborhood.

  What the hell?

  “BNN has learned we have a witness right here ready to tell us what they witnessed. Hi, Mrs. Marble...and what was it you say you saw race by?” The reporter held the microphone out to an elderly woman.

  “Well, I’d come out to walk Mitzy when this huge white kitty cat came leaping across the road.”

  The reporter pulled the microphone back. “Ma’am, did you say kitty cat, as in domesticated?”

  Before the reporter could hand the mic back to Mrs. Marble, a man’s voice yelled out, “That wasn’t no damn cat, you old biddy.”

  The reporter turned to seek the source of the voice and found the mic snatched out of his hands by on older gentleman.

  “That thing was a huge-ass tiger.”

  I dropped the spoon when the next face I saw taking up the screen happened to be my next-door neighbor, Mr. Williams.

  “Yeah, she’s right. It wasn’t just any old regular tiger, though—it was a white tiger with blue eyes.”

  The reporter managed to get his microphone back. “Did you say white tiger?” The reporter’s knuckles were white from the death grip the man must have had on his mic, but he held it out towards Mr. Williams again.

  “Yep, sure was. The cat seemed to be looking for something. Kept pacing back and forth in front of my neighbor’s place.”

  I about shit when the camera panned slap over to my unit.

  The reported verified, “The one right there?” He held the mic back to Mr. Williams.

  “Yep, that’s the one. Stood on its back legs to look in the window and everything. If I didn’t know her myself I’d swear whoever lived in the unit owned the thing or something. But I know the young lady and she doesn’t own any pets. None.”

  I tripped over the bottom of my white nightgown as I bolted to the front window. I yanked the curtains open and scanned the street for any signs of the tiger. The reporter from the previously recorded segment urged everyone to tune in to the eleven o’clock news for any further developments.

  Well, shit. They hadn’t mentioned anything new. Everything had been from earlier in the day.

  I returned to gazing out the window. The moon was full and high and set a holiday mood against the falling snowflakes. According to the weatherman, the snow would continue and become heavier as the night went. What a strange holiday this seemed to be becoming. Instead of dreams of sugarplums I’d had dreams of naked men and white tigers.

  I’d take the naked man over sugarplum anythings any time.

  A few people still braved the cold and were out walking. No screaming and fleeing, so obviously the tiger remained gone.

  Why did this disappoint me so damn much? Shouldn’t I be happy some potentially man-eating beast had fled the neighborhood? No, because deep down I’d hoped for a woman-eating tiger shifter.

  Like such a thing is real. Pfft.

  Well, guess I might as well hit the sack. I could at least dream of wild men and wicked sex.

  Yeah, really, really wicked.

  Chapter Four

  Brrr. How the hell had I missed the jets of freezing air before bed? I hadn’t a clue. I scrambled back under the blankets, cursing for having somehow tapped the loose-shutting window when I’d given up looking for tiger. I’d complained to the landlord on more than occasion about the stupid thing. One wrong tap and the ancient plantation style glass opened. Just a tad, but enough to allow gusts from old man winter to overtake my small place like a tornado in a Midwestern alley.

  A board creaked in the hallway. Another wooden moan, then nothing.

  Wind sure as shit didn’t cause floors to buckle beneath its weight. I sat up frantically, searching every nook around me, with only the moonlight for illumination, for anything that might be used as a weapon. Wait, I had a metal nail file in my nightstand drawer. Better than nothing, I supposed. I groped inside for the thing as quietly as possible. Just my damn luck, I hit the fucking purple rabbit and a loud humming sound echoed about.

  So much for the element of surprise. I slung the bunny down and finally came across the cool metal of the file. Since whoever or whatever now knew I was awake, lying in bed didn’t seem the wisest of moves. I slid out of my safe cocoon of sheets and made my way toward the dresser by the door. I stood just inside the doorway, arm raised above my head with the tip of the nail file down. I held my breath and waited.

  Wasn’t much, but I’d stab whoever it was as hard as I was able to and make a dash for the front door. Mr. Williams would be home and awake. He’d told me more than once that he suffered from insomnia. He’d hear me. Then I’d call for help. I bet Mr. Williams also had a gun if we needed to take things that far.

  Another creak put the intruder by my door. A few more seconds...

  Bam!

  Air. That was all I felt from my crazed, swinging attack. No bodily contact. What in the hell? I wasn’t crazy and I knew damn well the floor had creaked from more than simple gusting. Somebody had been out there, making their way toward my bedroom. Of this fact I had no doubt.

  Flipping on the light, I crept cautiously down the hallway. The front door was still shut and bolted and I found no evidence of an intruder anywhere. Nothing. No wet snowy footprints or...paw prints.

  Grumpy over what I now thought might have been one hell of a nightmare, I slunk back to bed relieved but still not fully convinced. Rounding the corner to my room, I slammed on the brakes and attempted to pick my bottom jaw, which had dropped open, off the floor. Cushioned and comfy, sprawled across the bed as if he owned the thing, sat my giant, blue-eyed white tiger.

  Whoa.

  “Nice kitty. Uh, stay. Good kitty... Sit. Stay.” I inched my way backwards, intent on getting the hell away. The magnificent beast on my clean comforter would have no problems swallowing me in one bite. I’d only managed three steps out the door and one or two or more down the hallway when I felt more than heard the boom from Mr. Fur Ball’s hitting the floor. His nails scrapped across the floor as the ominous sound grew closer, until he rounded the doorway and plopped down again.

  The cat just lay there in my hallway, staring at me. If I wasn’t mistaken, the darn thing wore a lopsided grin, as if attempting to tell me I needn’t be afraid. Uh, not fucking likely.

  The giant cat pawed the wood and shook his head.

  “You want me to stay, don’t you?” I whispered.

  Roar.

  “Look, that might be your way of saying yes, but roar like that again and I’ll not only piss myself, but pass out. Okay. So cool it. Purr or something.” Lovely. I’d gone round the bed. I was fucking talking to a tiger. Not chatting nicely, either, but chastising the thing.

  To my utter relief and shock, the cat began to purr. A deep sound, but far removed from the roar that had nearly rattled the pictures off my walls.

  “You really can understand me, can’t you?”

  The tiger nodded.

  “I’m not sure whether to call you a she or he...”

  Popping noises started, and the animal shook as if about to explode. I turned to grab for the phone to get help, more for the cat than myself at this point. With the grunts emitting from the tiger, the thing would surely need a vet.


  I hit the on button and turned around to find the cat gone. A thorough search turned up no wild animals hiding about the place.

  Just what in the hell was going on? Nothing anymore made much sense. An hour and a glass of warm milk later, and I’d said fuck it and curled back up to doze off. Either I’d been having a lucid dream or I was experiencing the onslaught of a major breakdown.

  I sure as hell wasn’t Scrooge. And these weren’t the ghosts of any Christmases past. At this point I would welcome them with open arms, compared to all this weirdness.

  I punched the pillow a time or two and before long found myself back at the zoo with Mr. Dream Guy on the other side of the gate. He crooked a finger at me, motioning me to come to the fence. Yowza, wahoo and hell, yeah. My guy was sans a kilt or any other stitch of clothing. Bare-butt naked, and he was built like a woman’s—or in this case my—wet dream. His arousal bobbed up and down as he himself drew closer to the gate. I couldn’t have declined meeting him if I’d tried. No way.

  But I didn’t want to ignore his request. He held the answers to my questions. Like just what was going on?

  “I’m here. Who are you?” I wanted to hear his voice. I knew the timbre of it would roll around, caressing each syllable.

  He didn’t answer, but rather gripped my hands, which were braced against the icy bars, and pulled me even closer so my face rested in the gap between the bars. He leaned the rest of the way, laying his forehead against mine and finally closing the small distance that separated us. Lips gentled across mine, coaxing me to open my lips to allow him to deepen the kiss. His woodsy scent and the brandy-rich kiss sent my already raging hormones into complete overdrive. My tongue sought his, sweeping over and around, desperate for more even as I imagined that mighty tongue of his lapping elsewhere on me. I needed him to the point I shook with it.

  My hands slid the bars to grasp the sides of his face. His five o’clock shadow tickled my palms. The strong jaw squared within my grasp, as I fingered the manly stubble and nipped his bottom lip between mine. A cross between a purr and a roar rumbled from him. My control melted away. My dream man had charisma most would kill for. Without uttering a word, he had me dropping to my knees before him.

  I slid down the cool steel, gasping when the chill hit my nipples and more delicate areas. Steam from my breath must have tickled him, and he pumped against the metal. Wanted what he knew was coming. But half the fun lay in the buildup, and dream man needed to learn about something called patience. Good things come to those who wait. Right? I blew more warm air over his exposed erection and brought about another softer thud against the gate. He’d dropped his head against it. Though it was kind of wicked, I’d wanted to tease his senses a moment, but seeing him like this, while I too rode the cusp of madness, proved too much.

  I grasped the root of him, pumped him with a sure grip and luxuriated in the sheer massiveness of him within my palm. The drop of pre-cum aided my fisting of his long, thick member. I twisted my wrist as I squeezed and slid my hand forward, the friction from the movements enough to have him panting above me. He palmed the top of my head as I took mercy and brought him to my mouth. I tongued the broad mushroom head before sliding through the crease. I continued tracing every ridge, slit and seam with my tongue, and though the grip on my scalp grew tighter, I continued my oral artwork. There was something to be said for the power a woman held over a man in this setting. Ditto when the tables were turned, but they weren’t at the moment. The choice was all mine whether to tease, grant release or try for both.

  My hands rested against his thighs, and his flesh was warm and hard beneath my touch. Those upper leg muscles constricted and released as he lightly thrusted, desperate to urge me to take him deeper. When I finished tonguing his head, his body quaked beneath me again. Play time ended. I took as much of him down my throat as our tricky union allowed. Within moments his hips pumped against the blasted barrier between us.

  Whatever. Beggars can’t be choosers.

  I picked up my pace to match his and suctioned so hard my cheeks hollowed with each draw. Hands knotted above my head on the bars and the rumble from earlier became a constant growl now. His calves flexed and I knew I needed to up the ante. His sac had drawn up tight against him, and no doubt would be extra sensitive at the moment. I cupped the orbs and gave a gentle squeeze. He reacted as I’d hoped. He exploded. His thrusts became erratic and more than once his pelvic bone thudded against the non-giving gate. Yet neither of us was thrown off the decadent rhythm we’d created.

  His roar bellowed into the night as his entire body drew tight as a guitar string played hard and ready to burst.

  I swallowed all he gave and chanced looking up at him, discovering far more than a stranger peering down me.

  I saw a man staking a claim.

  He pulled on my head until I followed his upward tugs. It took me a moment to figure out what he meant for me to do. Right as I got it and started to turn around, he pulled me back flush against the gate until my breasts spilled through the gate. Rough, abrasive palms cupped my tits as if testing their weight. I kept my eyes fixed on his and caught when his pupils elongated, almost catlike in their appearance. Before I had a chance to think any harder about the oddity, dream dude leaned into the fence and pulled a turgid nipple into the heat of his mouth. His lips pinched my plumped, sensitized chocolate berry deeper still before blunt teeth nipped so suddenly I yelped in surprise. Even though metal separated us, he somehow managed to get me turned around while placing both my hands above me until I had to grip the bars for extra support.

  I panted, not caring if he knew how fucking turned on he’d made me. My needy puffs were visible in the cool air. An arm snaked through the gate and around my wriggling waist, keeping me immobile as another hand lowered until it reached the tufts of my cropped pubic hair. Large fingers swept through my damp folds before parting them so his thumb could circle my clit. He now knew beyond any possible doubt how desperate I was for release. Yet he continued taunting me as I had taunted him. Surely he wanted to drive me as insane. Nothing else could explain how close to the edge he’d brought me only to pull back and pause at the last second, keeping me from the orgasm which lingered one touch from fulfillment.

  “Please, oh, please. Quit teasing...need you now,” I begged, gyrating my hips against his hand until he thrust a digit in. “Fuck, yes,” I moaned while finally beginning to feel the release edging back again. It wasn’t until he added two more fingers that I began riding his hand like a bucking bronco in wild abandon. “Yes, don’t stop, don’t move...just—yes, there,” I rambled, not sure how to explain what I needed. The hand at my waist moved slowly upwards to my breast and, as one hand worked to finger-fuck me, the other kneaded and plucked at my now-jiggling tit.

  I released a long-winded, keening wail, and when the hardest orgasm of my life passed and I could open my eyes without a chance of looking cross-eyed, I found myself curled up in my bed.

  Alone.

  Chapter Five

  Disoriented, I jumped from bed and searched the place. No dream dude, no friggin’ white tiger. Four a.m. Well, shit. Too early to be up, and too late to go back to bed. It would be hell going back to sleep after such vivid and wild imagery. Plunking back into my comforting bed, loose limbed but frustrated over the abrupt, back-to-earth ending, I rolled to my stomach and had myself one well-earned mini tantrum. When I moved to the pillow next to me, I could swear I picked up his scent.

  The unique, sexy, musky, woodsy smell that was all him and so damn intoxicating.

  Impossible. Right? None of this was real.

  I slipped off sometime between seeing the clock turn to four-thirty and the alarm going off.

  It was now Christmas Eve day and especially nippy. My legs protested being offered up to the arctic floor for testing. Yep, as cold as I feared. I jerked my feet back into the warmth of the comforter and wished I were the sort to be okay calling in sick. But I wasn’t. Polly didn’t deserve it, and neither did
I. I’d feel guilty the entire holiday.

  Dragging my ass out of the warm bliss that so perfectly surrounded me, I booked it to the bathroom with thoughts of a steaming hot shower.

  I was on my way to work, locking my front door, when Mr. Williams tapped me on the shoulder and damn near scared me to death.

  “Honey, I wanted to talk to you for a minute,” he began.

  “About yesterday?” I asked, guessing.

  “This is going to sound crazy, but the tiger? Well, he went to sniffing and pawing at your door. The thing even whizzed all around your place. Stunk the whole area up but real good.”

  There had been a weird odor, but since a few hours had gone by between the time the tiger was at my place and when I’d returned from the zoo, I supposed the scent had evaporated or whatever happens to the marking.

  “The landlord has a no-pet policy. I just don’t want to hear about you getting into any kind of trouble or nothing.”

  “You seriously think I’ve been hiding a tiger in my place?” Mr. Williams was elderly, but not that much so.

  “Oh, no, but I thought maybe you’d snuck a house pussy in or something and the tiger picked up her scent.”

  House pussy? Oh, hell, no, he didn’t just say pussy.

  “Uh, no. Scout’s honor, I run a no-pets household.” I sure as shit wasn’t about to get into anything with him right now. The man had said pussy, and something about that fact had me fighting the worst case of giggles I’d had in a long damn time.

  I thanked Mr. Williams for his concern and discretion and caught a taxi into work. It was too damn cold this morning to walk. My blood hadn’t gotten weathered yet for the season.

  We passed out our gifts at work for the white elephant exchange and tidied up to close down for the holiday. Thankfully, Polly let me cut out earlier than even our early shut down to get those damn passes from the zoo. Should have been an easy gift, but since it was a spur-of-the-moment idea and my laptop was still being repaired after that last freaking virus, I had to purchase the tickets in person. Old-school and shit.