Hidden beneath layers of shadow, he’s merely an outline bobbing against me. His dedicated attack has my toes curling into the sheets. My hips push down even as I know I should be fighting. My brain is caught between reality and the dream, and my real body is still suspended on the edge of release.
I don’t think I can stop now even if I tried because I’m already slipping. My back heaves off the mattress as he replaces his tongue with two fingers and fuses his lips to my switch. My fingers fist in his hair. I hiss something unintelligible and cum.
The man feasting on my quivering mounds snarls with triumph and dives for the source. His tongue laps hungrily at my opening, collecting every drop until I have no more to give.
Released from the dream and my body’s betrayal, I slump against the pillow, breathing ragged.
With nothing else to clean, the fuse he has on my cunt dislodges with a wet, slurping pop and drifts back. I watch him sway in and out with the shadows. For a second, in between a single heartbeat, I swear his eyes flicker. They gleam a harsh white, but I blink and he’s just a silhouette receding to the foot of the bed.
“Roan?”
It’s the familiar myrrh and cedar clinging to my sheets. My skin. It hovers in the air, mingling with the scent of my release.
“Hey, baby,” he murmurs, voice a husky rasp of something much older.
It’s the kind of hiss that makes me think of sand falling through an hourglass. Ancient and primal. Not at all what Roan sounds like.
I scramble to the side of the bed and throw myself at the nightstand. My fingers fumble for the lamp switch and flick.
Dull, grimy light pools across the tangled sheets. Parts catch on his features, the glossy sheen around his mouth.
The shine of my release.
But it’s his face that releases the breath I’d been holding. It unlocks the tension tightening in my gut. Not a monster. Obviously, my brain was still foggy from that orgasm, and I didn’t hear him properly.
“Why are you in my room?” I pant.
Eyes the rich brown of warm coffee bear straight through me from a face tense with desire and a hunger that collects at the base of my belly. The raw scrutiny behind the brittle tension is the same as a predator who just had their kill snatched from them. It’s the unforgiving gleam of barely contained control.
“Was waiting for you to wake up,” is the response he shreds through clenched teeth. “Got hungry listening to you moaning in your sleep.”
The implication has my cheeks scorching. I shift to squeeze my thighs together.
“Don’t,” he growls. “Don’t hide it.”
Not sure what to do, what to say when this has never happened before, I stay in my little corner and stare at the man making no effort to clean my mess off his face.
“I was dreaming,” I explain stupidly.
“I know.” He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. “You were soaking the bed. I had to clean your mess.”
I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that. I don’t even know how I’m supposed to react, except I’d like for him to continue. He already has my pants and cardigan off. It’s just me in a camisole, completely helpless and at his mercy if he were to decide to take advantage of me.
But the words have glued themselves in my throat. I drop my gaze and wonder why I can’t be as bold on the outside as I am on the inside. I know I want it and I’ll voice it if asked, but initiating always gets me.
“That’s enough talking.” He motions with his chin for me to return to my spot. To the giant dark stain in the mattress. “Get your pussy back here. I’m not done with it.”
He rips his top up over his head and chucks it somewhere into the ocean of darkness around us. The light catches the hard, ridged lines of his perfect torso. It cuts canals and rivers that make my mouth water. Blocks of pure muscle that flex when he crawls a step closer.
“Now, Rina. I get to be the first to breed you. To pump my cum in your cunt.”
He’s suddenly so close. He’s inches from my face. His breath is warm on my lips. I gasp and he shushes me.
“You can get on your back and spread your legs willingly. Or...” His fingers close around my ankle and yanks. I tumble across the mattress and get dragged under him. “Or I make you.”
Make me!I want to beg.
But he’s already twisting his hands into the thin straps of my camisole. The flimsy fabric stands no chance as they’re stretched and torn down my shoulders. My breasts spill free and it’s like a steak is dropped before a wolf.
