He rubs my hips up and down. “Did you give in to him yet, your ghost?”
A nervous gasp quakes my throat. “No.”
“Why not, when you know it’s inevitable?” He squeezes my waist. “You belong to us, Max.”
“Us?”
His hands travel up and up, sneaking to my front, closing around the greedy, heavy flesh there. My dream-husband kneads my breasts together, then apart, rolling my aching peaks between his index and thumb.
I moan out a curse and a blessing, the pressure between my legs building and building.
“You get to have us both. Him by day, me by night. Aren’t you a lucky little fox?” He moves his hands around to my ass and explores my flesh almost savagely. “Don’t overthink it.”
Again, his words echo those E spoke to me earlier, and I force myself to focus and not be taken in by the way his hands caress my buttocks up and down.
“You’re E, aren’t you? He’s you, and you’re him. You’re the same person.”
He chuckles at that, giving my arse a playful slap. “Oh no. He’s not broken, like me.”
I’m suspended in midair, my toes not touching the ground anymore. My dark angel takes me higher and higher, as we stare into the misty abyss in front of us.
Pleasure explodes at the apex of my thighs, then shudders through my legs, toes, and chest. I tremble from the undertow of it—powerful, dizzying, wickedly timed. I’m falling, falling, and crashing hard, hard,hard.
E’s heated groan pulls me from the dream. “Fuck, Max. You’re making it hard for me to be reasonable here.”
I crack open my eyes. Dawn glows through the zipper of the tent, and the campfire crackles in the distance, the back of the tent empty.
Fuck.
To my horror, my dream bled into real life, where I’ve been unconsciously grinding into E, into his long, hard length. He stifles a groan against my shoulder, and his hand slides right down my stomach toward the place where I need him most.
I suck in a sharp breath, my body still floating at such heights, I can’t see straight. He slips under the lace of my underwear.
“Blessed Flame,” he hisses, his voice rough with sleep. “You’re fucking soaked, little fox.”
“I—I didn’t mean to. I was only dreaming,” I breathe out.
“Dreaming of what?” he asks darkly.
“Of you,” I say, glossing over the truth.
With a low, satisfied groan, he pushes two fingers inside me in an easy, almost humiliating glide. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
“Nick might hear,” I squeak.
He sneaks his free hand around to my front and caresses my breasts through the fabric of my shirt. “We don’t know how long this new body of mine might last. I want to touch all of you.”
His caress reminds me of my dream-husband, holding the same care and cruelty as he pinches my nipples in turn.
I bite back a moan. “And I have no say in it?”
“Absolutely none,” he chuckles against my bare shoulder.
My lids flutter as he ravishes my neck, nibbling, teasing, biting his way up to my earlobe.
When I dare to open my eyes again, the sight of his hand moving under my shirt, of my breasts being used and abused by his invisible fingers, is so intoxicating that I cry out.
His palm presses gently over my mouth in warning. “You have to be quiet, my love, so your brother doesn’t hear you, figures out what we’re doing, and banishes me to the afterlife for good.” He licks a train of fire along my pulse point. “Can you be so, so quiet for me, little vixen?”
