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“No.”
“Stop!” I scream and my eyes flutter open.
I’m on my stomach on the bed, face down. Sweat covers me under my clothes and the sheets.
I’m wearing the dress Emily picked for me and…my fingers are inside my panties, thrusting in and out of my pussy.
Mysoakedpussy.
My other hand is pinching my nipple underneath my bra.
I startle and sit up, removing my hands as if I’ve been caught masturbating in a public square. My mouth hangs open at the sight of the juices coating the fingers that were between my legs.
Lifting my dress, I’m mortified by the view. My inner thighs are sticky and my panties are most definitely ruined. Not only that, but my nipples ache, throbbing against the material of my bra.
Was…all of that a dream?
No. I don’t dream—let alone about being raped.
And yet, I’m all alone in the room and my clothes are intact. I was even covered by a duvet. Not to mention the evidence that’s staring at me on my fingers.
Why the hell was I touching myself to that type of nightmare?
I scoot back against the headboard, pulling my legs to my chest and wait for…what? A sign that I don’t have the sort of depraved mind that fills me with those types of nightmares?
Keep it together, Winter. It was just a nightmare. It’s not real.
I carefully step off the bed and peek under it. I hold my breath, expecting some sort of monster to jump me.
No sense of relief engulfs me when I find no one.
Because I know, I just know that real monsters are more dangerous. They appear human, too, before they release their beastly selves on the world.
Like in my nightmare.
The room I’m in has the king-size bed that I woke up on with a metal headboard, decorated with golden motifs. A matching dresser with a large mirror is right across from it and I nearly scare myself shitless when I pass by it and sense my shadow.
I head to the only door in sight and pray it’s a bathroom. I need to wash up, to remove all the stickiness clinging to my body.
As soon as I open it, I freeze in the doorway.
Adrian is inside a bathtub that’s full of water. His eyes are closed, head lolled to the side, and his arms are crossed over his chest.
For a second, I don’t know if he’s actually sleeping or…dead.
I want to turn around and leave. Better yet, I want my carefree life from the streets back. After the cruel dream I just had, the last thing I want is to talk to Adrian.
But he could be dead—or will be if he keeps sleeping in a bathtub.
My footsteps are careful, slow as I approach him. I touch his shoulder and freeze.
Bite marks.
My hand has a bite mark from when I bit on it from the nightmare.
Was it really a nightmare?
Before I can think on that, a strong hand catches my wrist and pulls me over. I shriek as I lose my balance.
