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The shadowy figure draws his hand out from the cloak he’s wearing, and I swear I hold my breath as his long fingers come to my chin, the skeletal shape a silent warning as he forces my eyes forward onto him.
Is he going to kill me?
Can he even kill me?
I mean, I’m dreaming, right? No one can touch me here.
Except he is.
His hands drag down the crux of my sternum, over and grazing my breasts. I shiver, sweat penetrating my skin. He doesn’t speak, and the longer I’m here, the more I want to run. I don’t want this. I don’t want him touching me.
I try sitting up, tensing my abs to push off the ground, but a heavy weight slams down on my chest, holding me there. When I look down, I see the bone crackling contrast of his hand. That same skeletal creature forced me back down to the ground. I still can’t see his face, nothing but a haunted figure.
He dips lower, and I hear him inhale deeply as he drags himself down my stomach and then farther down between my thighs. What is he doing? I need to push him away from me and get as far away from here as possible. He’s going to touch me. I don’t want it. No. I try to unclench my fists and reach for him, but there is no use. Merciless by my own mind, I’m hopeless to this nightmare.
It comes fast like a cool wave crashing over me and forcing me back down into its current. I once again try to slam my thighs closed, desperate to put distance between us, but it’s no use. He has me captive, paralyzed, and at his mercy. Something damp presses against my inner thigh, trailing all the way over my pussy. The monster flicks his tongue over my clit, and before I can fight it, a tight moan escapes me. I hate that my body has betrayed me at this moment because I’m afraid.
I’m not scared to admit when something is too much for me, and this is. I feel sticky and violated, and as every second passes, I want to run even more. His tongue dives inside me, and I yelp loudly, my back arching off the ground and my eyes rolling to the back of my head. I would give anything to grip on to something, to feel anything!
My hands finally slam onto the ground, and I try to squeeze whatever I can to help me roll through the confusion of pain and pleasure when the ground beneath me turns to silk. Wait a minute. Why is it silk?
My eyes slightly crack open as the hooded figure disappears, and as every second passes, the bridge turns into my TV and the hooded figure that was once flying up above me is now a real man. A hoodie covers half of his face, though, the outside moonlight barely showing the sharpness of his jaw.
“Did you sleep well, Lon?”
I go to scream, fear prickling down my neck, but he slams his hand over my mouth, forcing me back onto my bed. He turns his head to the side, inhaling deeply as he moves from the crook of my neck up to my temple.
“Damn,” he murmurs against my cheek, so close the warmth of his breath falls over the shell of my ear. “You taste about as good as I thought you would. Only one thing could make you taste better. Know what that is, my little doll?” His free hand buries itself in my white hair, and he gives a little tug. “My cum mixed with yours.” He groans into my neck. “I can fucking taste us now.”
I should bite into his hand to try to break free, but I don’t.
I should shove against him, but I don’t.
I should want him off me and away and demand to know how the hell he got into my room and who the fuck he thinks he is…but I don’t.
A sense of verity washes through me, easing the tension in every muscle until I’m nothing but loose limbs and a needy cunt. It’s twisted and all sorts of fucked up, but I want him right where he is, hovering above me with his legs between mine. I’ve dreamed of this, literally, but I’m not dreaming now.
Knight is here in my room, and there’s this deep, penetrating ache swimming inside me that screams I need him to stay.
My expression must give me away because Knight’s lips lift into a small smirk and the hand pressed to my mouth slowly eases. He drags his fingertips across my lips as he frees me, but my body has a mind of its own, turning and chasing the contact of his skin on mine. Desperation has my mouth watering, and only once my tongue flicks along the tips of his fingers do my lungs allow me to breathe. It’s a full breath and it’s all Knight. His scent, his flavor. Him.
