Molly struggled to rise from her dream like a child caught in the deep end of the pool. Her limbs felt weighted, her chest compressed. She opened her mouth to scream but she didn't have a voice. For several moments she struggled until mercifully, she was disentangled and shaken out of her nightmare.

"Molly, wake up before you hurt yourself!" A familiar voice commanded.

Her eyes fluttered open to see the outline of her savoir.

"Sherlock?" She whispered groggily.

She had dreamed of him every night that week. She reached out to touch him and braced herself for the inevitable disappointment of realizing he was not actually there. When her hand contacted an intensely hot, solid muscular mass, she almost stopped breathing.

"Oh! My God, Sherlock, you're here. How did you find me?"

Sherlock reached over to the lamp on her bedside table and flicked it on. The Balinese style cottage lit with a warm glow. Molly chewed her lip as their eyes met. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears insistently as her nerves started to do a happy dance. She could never tire of his masculine beauty. She scanned every millimeter of his perfectly formed face from his lofty cheekbones to his determined jaw just to try to process how gorgeous he was. And, God, how much she loved him! So much so that looking at him was difficult because she felt as if her chest cavity was open and exposed to him.

"I never lost you," he replied. "I am sorry I didn't come sooner but I have been trying to shut Sherrinford down."

She pressed her lips together and nodded. She watched as his eyes quickly surveyed her injuries. With each resting place from her cast wrist to the deep yellow and purple bruise that extended from the tip of her shoulder to mid-way on her bicep, his eyes constricted further. Then he looked away guiltily.

"It's not your fault, Sherlock," she said as she touched his face.

He laid his hand over top hers and then shifted closer on the bed. "It is, Molly . . . it is and I don't deserve your absolution."

She smiled. "Maybe not, but you have it anyways."

With a groan, Sherlock slipped his hand behind her head and pulled her towards him. She felt the rasp of his breath against her lips before his mouth crushed down on hers. His arms went around her and he dragged her from the bed until she was pinned against his chest. He stood up with her held tightly against his body by her back. She felt the press of his large hand and long fingers against the smooth satin of her short night dress, an impulse buy from the hotel boutique after she'd had a randy dream about him. Her toes just barely touched the floor. She felt the warm breeze of the tropics tickle her bottom as the nightdress rode up.

His lips left hers briefly. "What are you wearing?"

His voice was heavy, husky. She felt a million flutters in her tummy.

"Just a bit of silk. It was too hot to sleep in flannel."

He nodded and looked down. His hand ran up her thigh and cupped her cheek. His other hand traced a similar path until he encountered her stiches and flinched.

"I'm sorry, does it still hurt?"

"No," She breathed, "well, not really much anymore."

His fingers danced over the threads and then caressed her buttock. He growled low in his throat as his eyes bored into hers.

"I want you," he muttered. "But I don't want to hurt you."

Her body didn't care that she was still on the mend. It begged like a dog for table scraps. She felt a pulsing begin between her thighs. She clenched down there to try to quell the throb but it only served to spread the heat outwards. She closed her eyes and tried to steady her breaths but they poured from her lips, scorching and uneven.

"Jesus Christ, I want you too, Sherlock. Please, make me feel something, anything but this fucking anxious vacuum it's been without you."

His lips claimed hers once again and he pulled at her knickers. She shook her head.

"Mm, mm, I am pretty much undressed. You need to lose your clothes."

He lifted his chin a moment and stared down at her with a smirk. She suppressed a grin and lifted a brow.

"Naked, now!" She commanded.

"Fine."

She helped him peel off his clothing, layer by layer until they stood toe to toe, him totally bare and her still in her nightdress but sans panties. He was a bit of a whiz at that. She didn't even feel them come off but they laid in two pieces at her feet anyways.

"What now?" She whispered.

Sherlock's face was cast in stone. He stared down at her for several seconds in contemplation. She chewed her lip again, nervous about his shadowed expression. She was about to reach for him when his hands gripped her hips and turned her around. They glided up the sides of her body, pushing her nightdress up to her waist before his fingers gripped her hips and pulled her back against his erection.

Her whole body burned as his stiff member imprinted itself against her backside between her cheeks. The digits of one hand dug into her hip as his other hand slid up over her mound and his fingers splayed out over her belly. His hips ground against hers, rubbing his cock up her buttocks. She panted heavily and felt a fission of fear. He was so large. How had he ever fit inside her body?

He leaned forward then, his voice was ragged in her ear. "Can I have you like this?"

"Uh . . ." A sigh escaped her lips.

Blood pounded through her pussy. She did want him to take her like that, spread her from behind and rut her senseless. She arched her back which caused her bum to perk up against him. She heard him suck in a breath.

"Is that a yes?"

She nodded. "That's a God yes."

She made an attempt to remove her nightdress but he jerked her against him.

"No, leave it. I like it," he murmured.

Then, he bent her forward a little and she felt his tip push between her cheeks. She reached down guided him into her until his head just breached her entryway. She clenched around him. It was so tight and he felt incredibly huge entering her this way. She heard him swear under his breath.

"Molly, you have no idea how good this feels," he said with a moan. "Like I am going to detonate."

She lurched back into him, causing his shaft to impale her further. "Yes, y-yes, please do."

With a grunt, he rammed into her until he was completely buried in her tight wetness. Then he withdrew quickly and rammed again. Molly cried out. It was a good sort of pain as he stretched her to fit him. Soon, his entire length was slick with her juices and he slid easily between her cheeks and deep into her body. His hips slapped against her furiously with each stroke. The silky nightdress fluttered over her waist as he thrust repeatedly. There was something wickedly sensuous about the way the slippery fabric slinked over her heated skin. Everything was hot, so deliciously hot.

It didn't take her long to start to feel the fuses of the fireworks he created light. Then his hand slid down her belly and worked its magic as he continued to thrust. She was so wet now, she could hear the sound of her sucking at him as he withdrew and entered her again. Then, it snuck up on her so fast she wasn't prepared. A burst of electricity at her nerve center cascaded into a body-rocking orgasm. She threw her head back and cried out. Her insides convulsed and gripped him in waves.

Sherlock clamped down on either hips with his hands and let loose then. His thrusts were rapid fire, his testicles slapped against her body and then with one last pierce, he came. Molly felt his member pulsate inside her. His hips jerked a couple of times, then he softened and withdrew.

He pulled her back up against him and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her bare shoulder.

"I swear, this is not why I came here," he said between heavy breaths.

Molly gulped in some air. "No? It seems worth it to me."

He laughed softly in her ear.

"Oh, that was definitely worth the trip but like I said, that's not why I'm here." He squeezed her tighter. "I've come to take you home."