Page 62
Ryann
I’m drowning in smoke, the heat pressing in on me from all sides, suffocating. Flames lick at the walls, devouring everything in their path. I hear my mother’s voice calling out for me, but I can’t find her. I’m running, searching, but the fire is everywhere, closing in, choking the air from my lungs.
“Mom!” I scream, my voice breaking. “Mom, where are you?”
But there’s no answer. Just the roar of the fire and my heart pounding in my ears. I’m too late. I’m always too late.
“No, I gasp, the word tearing from my throat. “No, please—“
A hand grabs my shoulder, shaking me, and suddenly the fire is gone. My eyes snap open, and I’m not in the house anymore. I’m in my bed, the sheets tangled around me, drenched in sweat. My chest is heaving, my heart racing, and it takes a moment for me to realize where I am.
“Ry?” Shilo says softly, his hand still on my shoulder. “I think you’re having a bad dream. It’s okay, you’re safe.”
Safe. The word barely registers as I struggle to catch my breath, my mind still trapped in the nightmare.
“It was the fire,” I manage to choke out. The admission slips from my tongue before I can stop it, and I hate how weak it makes me feel. But Shilo doesn’t flinch. Instead, he shifts closer, wrapping his arms around me. I don’t resist—I can’t. I bury my face in his shoulder, my whole body trembling as the memories flood back, relentless. “My mother, she…she didn’t make it.”
She never makes it.
His fingers thread through my hair, grounding me with gentle touches as he holds me until the shaking subsides. “It’s okay, everything’s alright.”
But it isn’t. The guilt twists inside me, sharp and unforgiving. It’s been months since I’ve had the dream, but every time I do, it’s ten times worse than the last. Clearly, I’m due for some form of physical release. I only dream when I’m wound too tight. Apparently, my grueling workout at the gym earlier wasn’t enough.
Gradually, the tension in my body starts to ease, the tremors subsiding, but I still feel restless. Ill-at-ease. I can tell that Shilo is awake by the uneven rhythm of his breathing, and I finally pull back to gaze down into his eyes, brows pinched with concern.
“Thank you.”
“Yeah.” Clearing his throat, he licks his lips, searching my face. “I mean, you’re welcome. Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
The word hangs heavy between us, harsher than I meant it, and his face falls slightly. “Okay.”
He tries to pull away, but I hang onto him tighter, suddenly desperate to forget about the weight of the past threatening to pull me back under, to forget about the loneliness I’ve been drowning under for weeks. God, I’ve missed him. I’ve tried to keep my distance, give him space, but when I saw him sitting on some broad-shouldered stud across the gym, I’d seen red. And then tonight, bringing him home with me, I tried to keep things professional for his sake. All of that went out the window the moment he begged me to make him come. He’s all I’ve thought about since Thanksgiving, dammit.
Pressing my mouth to his throat, I feel his surprised squeak vibrate against my lips as I take his supple skin in between my teeth.
“Oh,” he breathes softly, gripping my hair to keep me latched on, and I chuckle, sucking marks into his flesh.
With a quick roll of our bodies, I pin him beneath me, kissing and nipping until I make my way down his shirt—or, my shirt, as he stated—still covered with his earlier release. That gorgeous cock of his is hard again, straining in his sweats when I rub my stubbled cheek over his inner thigh. He palms himself, watching me with hooded eyes, and I caress down his legs until I have his bare feet in my grip.
“I’ve been fantasizing about this,” I growl, planting a kiss on the sole of his foot before sucking his toes into my mouth.
He coughs in disbelief, lips hanging open and cheeks flushed, a wet spot forming on his crotch as his dick leaks for me. “W-what are you doing?!”
A deep groan is my only response, picking up his other foot to do the same, and my little doll shudders as he squeezes the base of his shaft.
“That would be the weirdest thing to come from,“ he complains, yanking his foot away, and I grin as I crawl up his body.
“It’s okay to like it, baby. I won’t tell anyone.” Diving for his mouth, I press my cock against him before curling my fingers under the waistband of his sweats. “Can I take these off?”
“Please,” he nods earnestly, practically ripping them from his body to free his dick, and a chuckle escapes me at his impatience. My horny doll needs to come again.
A glance at the clock tells me I have exactly four hours before I have to be up for work. Probably earlier if I plan on having Declan help change Shilo’s tire. There’s no way I’ll sleep again with the dream weighing heavily on my mind, at least not unless I come as well, but I shake those thoughts away as I envelop Shilo’s length in my mouth.
He cries out, bucking his hips and hitting my throat, a spurt of precum layering my tongue. So fucking delicious. Sucking cock has never been my favorite—I’d much rather be the one on the receiving end—but Shilo’s every reaction has me damn near addicted. His breathy moans, soft whimpers, fingers flexing on the sheets like he doesn’t know where to put his hands. And I take my time with it, too, lazily licking at his shaft, pulling those sounds from him that have me aching and heavy. Much better than the quick blowjobs I gave him in my office.
Spit drips down over his sack, pooling in his hole, and I gently suck one of his smooth balls into my mouth, reveling in the way he clutches my shoulders tightly.
