Camera Shy (Lessons in Love Book 1)

If this weren’t a dream, I’d be nauseous. I don’t do well with ships. But as the water sways, I’m unaffected because, in dreamland, I’m impervious to seasickness.

My mind is alert enough to realize that my long dress, which is seemingly made of glittery mermaid scales, is clearly nonsensical, but I’m incoherent enough not to question it.

The scenery is odd. We’re on a ship, but the mist is a creepy thick fog covering the stripped wood. I look up and see the tattered sails marked with skulls and bones.

Oh. It’s because I fell asleep staring at Finn’s tattoo. I’m probably drooling on his bare chest right now. Why am I so aware at the moment? What a weird dream. I know I’m sleeping. I know it’s a dream, but I’m watching the movie unfold right in front of my eyes.

I see him approach from the hazy shadows.

His face is marred with a jagged scar underneath his eye and he’s wearing an eye patch because my brain isn’t creative enough to visualize anything else for a ghost pirate. No matter, the concept is clear. And plus, I’m not worried about his costume. My eyes are on Finn’s body—a perfect replica of real-life Finn. He’s shirtless. Every groove of his abdomen is perfectly sculpted into six symmetrical rectangles. The broad wall of his pecs, dotted by his little brown nipples, is so enticing I immediately feel the heat between my legs.

“How are you out of the water?” he asks in a grisly whisper that sends a chill up my spine. “Can you breathe?”

Okay, I get it. I’m a mermaid. I can breathe on land, but can I speak?

“You know what I came for,” I say in a raspy voice that sounds like I’m starring in a porno. I want to laugh at the cheesy dialogue. Come on, dream Avery! You can do better than that.

The action sequences are distorted and we skip the proper continuity. Somehow, now I’m on my back, my ass boring into the wooden ship deck that should be giving me splinters but in dreamland is comfy as a mattress. Finn’s on top of me, cupping my sex. Somewhere in the nonsensical sequence, I’ve lost my mermaid dress. Finn and I are completely naked and I can almost feel the weight of his palm against my clit.

It seems so real. The urge between my thighs grows as he rubs aggressive circles with the heel of his palm all the while taunting me, telling me not to come yet.

“I want to,” I protest in my porno voice, and suddenly I feel something foreign against my neck. My brain scrambles to make sense of the scene so I can compute the sensory experience my dirty mind is trying to treat me to. It’s a hook. Finn has a hook hand and he’s pressing the back of the cool metal against my throat.

“You’re going to love it like this,” he growls.

I nod eagerly, already feeling the dribble down my thigh. “Do it.”

“You won’t be able to scream.” He smiles, almost cruelly. “But try anyway.”

His hard dick replaces his hand and I groan as he enters me. I try to spread my legs to accommodate his colossal size. Pirate Finn is even larger than real-life Finn. Comically so. I should be dead by now, but apparently, I’m a mermaid and us ethereal creatures can adapt to penises the size of anacondas. There’s no pain, just pleasure…then shock.

He presses the smooth curve of his hook against my throat and gyrates his hips. A simple thrust is too tame for my mythical pirate sex god. He swivels his hips, ensuring no part of me is untouched, and as I near my orgasm, the strain on my neck grows.

The panic begins to rise and now my shallow breaths are becoming impossible to collect. I try to whimper, but I can’t make a sound. I’m not sure if it’s the hook or the dream, but I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. All the panicked pressure in my body is collecting between my thighs and I don’t know if I can handle the explosive climax I’m headed toward.

I shake my head, and Pirate Finn must see the fear in my eyes. “Just another moment, baby.” Now he thrusts—hard. I grunt in reply. “You’re almost there.” He pumps his hips again, nudging against that sacred spot that makes me burn for him.

On cue, the fog turns to angry dancing flames as he ruts into me like a madman. “Say my name,” he snarls.

I try again to speak, but I can’t. A headache begins to form and I want to tell him to release me because I’m damn near passing out. But he only presses his hook harder against my windpipe.

“Try, baby. Just say it. Tell me who is making you come.”

Summoning my strength, I fight the tension around my neck and scream as loud as I can. He rips his hook away and lets my cry ring through the night air. “Finn, oh God, Finn. Finn. Finn.” My voice breaks through at the precise moment my orgasm unleashes.

I gasp. The air fills my lungs as my climax radiates through my entire body. The sensation is so potent, I think I come twice. Once because of the pleasure, and once because of the liberation.

It feels so real.

The pulsing sensation is so familiar. The euphoria makes my head go hazy and sink back into the ship deck, waiting for the flames around us to burn us to cinders.

Finn smiles. “Time to go home, Queen. The ship is burning.”

He grazes the crown on my head that somehow magically appeared amidst our rough sex. Ripping it off my head, he then throws it overboard into the pitch-black sea. He scoops me up and before I can ask him if he’ll be okay, then tosses me over the ship rail and I begin to plummet.

I’m falling for ages. Much too long to make sense. I should’ve hit the water by now.

It’s the feeling of falling, the swoop in my stomach that yanks me fully from my dream.

And when I open my eyes, I see Finn.

Not Pirate Finn.

Real Finn. No scar. The dim light of the lampshade across the room reveals the perfect, handsome angles of his flawless skin. And he’s wearing the most amused smirk I’ve ever seen.

“Did you just have a dirty dream about me?”

“No.” I don’t know why I bother lying, but I’m a little embarrassed. I subtly rub my thighs together and feel the moisture. Dream or not, I most definitely came. That had to be the most passive-aggressive orgasm of my life. If you won’t fuck me in real life, I’ll find you in dreamland, Finn.

“You sure? Because you woke me up when you said my name a few times. And you’re breathing kind of hard.”

“I don’t remember what I was dreaming about. Wait…I think I vaguely remember I was falling.” Lies. I remember it perfectly. Your pirate doppelganger threw me overboard right after you choked me with your hook and gave me the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had. But I’m not saying that shit out loud.

“Okay, whatever you say.” His smug smile says he doesn’t believe a damn thing I’m saying. “Come here.”

He yanks me back into his chest, and I snuggle against him, back to belly. This is how we fell asleep and I must’ve wriggled away in the middle of the night. I’ve been sleeping alone for over a month, so my instincts need time to adjust.

Finn puts me back in my rightful place, cuddled into his embrace, his thick bicep sprawled out as a pillow for my head. I rest my ear on the dramatic curve of his muscle and the mermaids on his tattoo fall into my direct sightline. They sing what they always sing to me.

Praise and encouragement. Go ahead, girl, get yours.

I did. Oh, I did.

I giggle silently at my own silliness, feeling playful and full. I don’t think I’ve ever had a wet dream before. I thought those were only for the other sex. But lo and behold, I taught myself this lesson all on my own.

I shut my eyes, desperately trying to go back to the ship, hoping that Pirate Finn survived the fire and is ready for round two.