Although my eyes are open, there is a darkness surrounding me that is about to open the flood gates of my panic. A pair of heavily-lidded chestnut brown eyes loom over me and remind me I’m not alone, and my fear is momentarily surpressed. The look of raw desire reflected in his gaze sends a flush of wetness between my legs. The heat of his naked chest radiates against mine, and I am lost in sensations of skin against skin.
Slowly, he drags his fingers up my thigh, touching every part of my body except the one place burning for his touch, aching and pulsing with a need I’d never known. His touch is soft but nervous, like he doesn’t know where to place his hands next. I shift in an effort to send him where I crave his touch the most.
“Ssshhhh,” a deep voice whispers into my neck, causing the hair on my arms to stand on end and my stomach to flip flop with anticipation. “Is this where you need me to touch you?”
His hand comes to rest on my breast, rolling my already sensitive nipple between his fingers. I arch my back and groan from deep within my throat.
“No,” I say. It comes out as barely a breath. I need him lower. Much lower.
He releases my nipple and a soft hand cups my breast and squeezes lightly. “Is this where you need me?” the voice asks, teasing me with his words as well as his touch.
“No,” I moan again, the agonizing torture of waiting for him to make contact is too much to bear.
I kick out my legs impatiently.
“Ssssshhhhh. Behave, and you’ll get what you want,” the voice whispers, trailing his tongue down the side of my neck at the same time working his hands between my legs. Slowly, two fingers brush over my clit, lingering there without any movement. An almost touch.
His body stills.
I writhe beneath him, seeking the release he is denying me. “Please,” I beg.
No answer.
“Please,” I say again.
Still no answer.
I look up into the eyes that held the promise of pleasure just a moment before, but they are slowly fading away. I reach for him, but I grasp only the night air. Even though I can still feel the places where he touched me as if he’d burned my skin, I can no longer feel him on me.
Then, he is gone altogether, and I am left alone in the dark.
Before I can panic, what I’d felt on top of me is now behind me, but the feeling isn’t quite the same. The person isn’t the same. This body is warmer, harder, and much, much larger. The hand rubbing my thigh isn’t soft and gentle; it’s rough and callused. The erection prodding against my lower back is thick and long, rubbing against the slit in my ass, into my wet folds and back again.
“Please,” I beg. Release. There must be some sort of release at the end of all this. I craved it, needed it, and I knew he could give it to me.
These new fingers don’t linger, and I almost fall apart when they find the wetness between my legs, spreading it over my clit until I am writhing against the thickness behind me, begging for it with my body, needing to be filled with it until the pure pleasure of it all splits me in two.
Two fingers penetrated me.
My eyes flew open. It was then that I realized I was no longer dreaming. I lay on my side, facing the wall. In a bed.
In King’s bed.
WITH KING.
It was his fingers filling me, stretching me. He curled them inside me, and they brushed against a spot that caused me to buck up against him and arch my back. I gasped and tried to tear away when King tucked me under his forearm, wrapping it tightly across my chest, holding me against him.
“I got you, pup,” he growled, his breath teasing a spot behind my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
I knew I should argue, or at the very least push him away, but I couldn’t think. Right or wrong and good or bad escaped me because his fingers started pumping while the pad of his thumb circled my clit, faster and faster until I was panting into the pillow, throwing myself back against his hard body, chasing the release that I craved more than my next breath.
“I’ve got you,” King said again. His voice was strained and thick. I lost myself in a fog of sensation.
“What are you—” I started to ask, but I couldn’t form the words because my body clamped down on King’s fingers, causing me to gasp.
“I’m going to make you come, pup. I’m going to make you come real hard,” he promised. When it felt like I was reaching the edge, King held me tighter and pressed down on my clit. I hung on, afraid to fall from the heights he’d brought me to.
“It’s okay, baby. I want to make you feel good. Don’t be afraid to come for me.”
With one final stroke of his fingers, I saw stars. Then, I plummeted, crashing down in the most amazing free-fall I never knew existed, off of a place that I never wanted to leave. Screaming into the pillow, fisting it into my hands, my orgasm tore through me from my chest to my toes and back again. My core continued to pulse around King’s fingers as I fluttered back down to earth.
“You’re gonna fucking kill me, pup,” King groaned. He removed his fingers and then sucked them into his mouth. “Ahhhh fuck.”
What the hell had just happened?
King sat up against the headboard. As much as I wanted to move, I was frozen to the mattress. “Something you need to know right now. Next time you’re having dreams that make you moan and touch yourself in my bed, I’m not going to be responsible for what happens. That’s on you. Because next time, I’m not going to be a nice guy and use my fingers to solve your little problem.”
“Who said I needed you to solve anything? I don’t remember asking for your help,” I snapped. Blood rushed to my cheeks, burning me with embarrassment.
“Shit, anyone within ten miles knew what you wanted, but next time, you’re going to wake up with something much larger than my fingers inside that pussy of yours. And when that happens, you’re going to come so fucking hard you’ll think what you had tonight was nothing more than a fucking hiccup. And I’ll remind you that this is my bed. This is where I sleep, and now it’s where you sleep. So, tread carefully.”
“I…”
“And I don’t need you dreaming about some guy while you’re sleeping next to me in MY FUCKING BED.” The sudden anger lacing his voice confused me.
And pissed me off.
“One, I don’t see why what or who I dream about is ANY of your fucking business, and secondly—” I held up two fingers. “I don’t want to sleep in bed with you. It’s you who carried me here. And three, how do you know it WASN’T you I was dreaming about?” I’d hoped to take some of the embarrassment off of me, but with every word I spoke, it built and built until I felt everything from my eyelids to my ear lobes burning red hot.
“You weren’t dreaming about me,” he said confidently, crossing his arms. Suddenly, I was aware of something.
“Did I call out someone’s name? Whose name?”
“No, pup. You didn’t call out anyone’s name. Although I can’t wait until I’m making you call out mine.”
“You weren’t in my head so there is NO WAY you could know who or what I was dreaming about,” I argued, my voice getting louder with each sentence. Dissapointed that I’d gotten my hopes up over a name. Angry with myself for enjoying the mind-blowing orgasm he’d given me.
“Pup, do you want to know how it is I knew you weren’t dreaming about me when you were about to come in your sleep?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
The anger faded from his eyes for a brief moment. He fixed a cocky smile on his perfect lips and rolled over on top of me, forcing me to lie back against the pillows as he caged me in. He lowered his face to mine, his breath cool against my heated skin.
“Cause, baby, if it were me you were dreaming about, you’d been screaming a fuck of a lot louder than that,” King growled.
“You cocky son of a fucking bitch!” I shouted, but he’d already leapt off the bed and left the room. My shouts reaching no one but the already closed door.
As much as my body responded to him, as great as I knew he could make me feel—and I had no doubt he could fulfill every promise he made about making me come—I had to stay away from him and keep my renewed promise to her.
Which was going to be very hard, since I was going to be sleeping in his bed.
The dream I was having before King interrupted me was too real, too vivid. I had an underlying sense that it was more than just a dream. Maybe, if I was lucky, it was a glimpse into my past.
The chestnut brown eyes just might be the key to unlocking the truth about who I really was and what had happened to me.
I went back to sleep that night dreaming that the boy with the chestnut colored eyes came and rescued me, taking me back to a life filled with family and friends, and everything that had happened in the past few days was nothing more than a quickly forgotten nightmare. I dreamed there were really people out there who were sick with worry, who wouldn’t rest until they found me.
I ran this scenario through my mind over and over again until I almost believed it.
Almost.
King was smart, calculating, and cunning. Worst of all, he had the power to make my knees both tremble in fear and weak with desire. He was someone I had to stay away from, but according to him, that wasn’t about to happen.
I didn’t dream about him; he was right about that. Because King wasn’t a dream.
He was a nighmare.
