She looked at him again. Still shirtless, still standing in her kitchen like a TikTok thirst trap, all glowy eyes and dark magic inked down his arms.
She crossed her arms. “Okay. Let’s say I am dreaming. Or dead. Or drunk. Or insane. If I am hallucinating this…”
She stepped closer.
“If this is a coma-fueled delusion brought on by trauma and horniness…” and closer.
“I might as well enjoy it.”
And this time, she kissed him, no hesitation, no fear.
Just a woman finally leaning into the fantasy.
Blair’s fingers hovered above Ashar’s chest.
She pressed her fingers to his abs, testing. Solid, warm. Real.
“Hmm,” she muttered, eyes narrowed.
He didn’t flinch. Just watched her with that slow, knowing grin that made her thighs clench.
“Can a hallucination have abs?” she asked, more to herself than him.
“You tell me,” Ashar said, voice like dark honey. “This is your dream, right?”
She walked around him slowly, trailing one finger down his spine, watching the tattoos shift and coil like smoke. “Okay, what about this? Can a coma dream have body heat? And that smell?” She leaned in. “You smell like fire and cinnamon. And sex.”
“That’s all you,” he murmured, inching in closer. “You’re the one who reeks of need.”
She cleared her throat, “You’re pretty cocky for a figment.”
He leaned in, voice low. “Then prove I’m not.”
She turned suddenly, pushing him backward toward the couch. “Fine. Let’s test this. Let’s see what a dream can do.”
She straddled him, hands planted on his chest, heart racing. He let her lead for a minute.
Then he caught her wrists gently, but firmly, and flipped them, pinning her beneath him so fast it stole her breath.
“Can a hallucination do this?” he murmured against her ear, lips brushing her skin.
She shivered. “Probably.”
He kissed down her neck, trailing heat with every touch. “How about this?”
Her hips bucked.
His mouth found her collarbone, her shoulder, lower still. “What about when I make you come so hard you forget why you ever settled for less?”
She gasped, trying to respond, but he was already moving lower.
Ashar kissed her stomach, slow, reverent, like he was praying into her skin. Each kiss dragged heat behind it, a warm ache coiling in her belly. His hands slid along her thighs, parting them with ease, like they’d always belonged draped over his shoulders.
Then he paused. Looked up at her with eyes lit from within, a devil’s halo burning behind his lashes. His mouth hovered just above her, breath hot, teasing.
Blair tensed, every nerve lit up.
He didn’t dive in. He didn’t rush. He studied her, like her pussy was scripture, and he was about to memorize every verse.
