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For now, sleep will have to do.
I crawl into bed, burrowing under the cool sheets. They’re as soft as a cloud, more comfortable than I’ve ever felt them. The pillow is made from clouds, and my eyes droop shut almost immediately.
Yet, in the darkness behind my eyelids, all I can see is Alize’s face.
Specifically, her cheeks colored with rage and arousal while I finger-fucked her by the gazebo today. The slight parting of her plump lips, the mangled sobs, the tears beading at the corner of her eyes, just how fuckingwetshe was even against her will.
She’s still as sensual as I remember.
Only now, there’s some anger mixed into it. She’s too puny to actually hurt me, but the threat of it—and the fact that she thinks she can, that she evenwants to—is such a fucking turn-on. She wants me and she hates herself for it.
My cock tents the sheets, and arousal is coiled so tightly in my balls that if she were here, I’d probably spill from one stroke of her soft, delicate hands.
I fall asleep stroking my cock to the thought of my fiancée.
TEN
ALIZE
A strong handwraps around my neck, squeezing the last bit of air out of my lungs.
My eyes are sealed shut, and I’m terrified—but also, so fucking turned on. Soft lips kiss a trail up my neck, leaving wet heat in their wake. A whimper falls from my lips, just as the tip of his cock pushes up against my entrance.
“Relax, sweetheart,” an accented voice purrs against my skin. “I know you want this.”
My heartbeat thrums through every inch of my body, my head dizzy from the lack of air. Yet I’m a livewire. Desire is coiled tightly in my abdomen, flaming, pulsing, begging for him to fill me. To fuck me. To devastate me.
His rough hands roam my body and his lips find mine, just as he thrusts deep into my wet heat. My eyes snap open to find a pair of ice blue ones staring back at me.
Alexander.
I startle awake, heart pounding.
The room is dark, still and…familiar. I release a breath, swiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. I’m still in my dorm room. Tara’s asleep beside me.
It was just a dream.
Relief courses through me. It didn’t actually happen.
Then a pang of sadness settles in because it wasjusta dream.
Shamefully, my mind takes me back to a few hours earlier, by the gazebo—how my body reacted to him, how I couldn’t control myself the moment he touched me. How I started questioning if fucking him again was really that bad.
It is, by the way.
I hate him. He ruined my life. He ruined me.
But my body doesn’t seem to want to get that message. The arousal that’s settled between my legs isn’t warm and expectant anymore, it’s white-hot and painful, demanding.
I slide my fingers into my sleep shorts, half-hoping I won’t find what I think. They come away wet, glistening in the wan moonlight streaming through the window.
Fuck.
As I settle back into the sheets, I try to think ofanythingelse. But all that comes to mind are strong arms wrapped in shadowy tattoos, lithe fingers and soft lips that know my deepest secrets, my most sensitive parts.
My hands travel back to the junction of my thighs.
I glance over at Tara’s slumbering frame, then to the clock on my nightstand. It’s three am. She went to bed around the same time I did, so she should still be deep in sleep right now.
