“Ass up, closer to me. Face in the sheets.”
Immediately I get in position.
He sinks his cock into me and both of us groan loud. Then I hear him spit and feel his cool saliva land and pool at my back entrance. His hips move and his cock plunges in and out of me in hard steady thrusts. His fingers circle through his saliva and push inside me without warning. The pressure is almost too much.
I fist the sheets and cry out with every glorious thrust. His fingers move as he fucks me, pressing down, keeping time with his cock.
He reaches forward, pulls at my hair, and my back arches up. His hand releases my hair, wraps around the front of my throat, and squeezes. I can’t move in this position. All I can do it take the fucking. The grip on my throat, the pounding of my body, over and over. His heavy grunts behind me. His cock and fingers plowing into me.
Pleasure coils. It blooms into a spiraling surge of bliss and then utter undiluted euphoria. I’ve never had an orgasm feel like this. I can’t control it and I can’t stop it. It explodes through my body like a supernova, and all I could do is cry out his name. “Hayes, Hayes, Hayes.”
His body stiffens, his breath catches in his throat. He rocks into me once, twice, three more times until his body shudders and he makes the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.
“Don’t clean up,” he says as he lies down next to me. “I want my cum inside you and dripping down your thighs when we’re sitting at breakfast tomorrow.”
Chapter
Six
Idream I'm in a room bathed in moonlight. The walls are lined with shadowy portraits, hanging in uneven rows. Each figure’s face is obscured and distorted, reflections in a rippling pond. In the center stands a grand staircase, just like the one inthe Everwood.
Liliana materializes on the bottom step. Her ghostly figure is translucent yet intensely real, her eyes filled with sorrow and desperation as they lock onto mine. “Please,” she whispers. Her voice is barely more than a breath, but it echoes through the silence. “Help me.”
“How?” I ask, my own voice trembling.
Her form shimmers, fading in and out like a candle flickering in the wind. I try to move toward her, but the room seems to constrict around me. The air grows heavy and cold, each breath I take like a gasp through ice. Liliana extends her hand, fingers quivering like delicate threads of gossamer, reaching out toward me. Just as she’s about to touch me, I jolt awake, my heart racing in my chest.
I’ve never had such a vivid dream before.
A soft scratching sound breaks the silence, coming from somewhere on the king-sized bed where I’m curled up amongtangled sheets. A heavy arm is draped around my waist, a warm, solid body pressed against my back. Hayes.
I squint into the darkness. With only a sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains, all I can see are odd-shaped silhouettes cast against the eggshell-colored walls.
“Hmm,” I groan softly. “It’s too early.”
Hayes doesn’t respond. His breathing is slow and steady. He must still be asleep. I sigh happily and nuzzle closer to him, savoring the warmth of his body against mine.
There it is again.
A faint rustling sound—like someone’s dragging their nails against a wall.
I listen for a moment, trying to figure out what it is—where it’s coming from. Slowly, I pull myself up into a sitting position, careful not to wake Hayes. The bedsheets slip off, and an icy chill bites into my bare skin, making me shiver.
The scratching abruptly stops, leaving the room in a heavy silence. Then, I hear it—a soft click, like a door gently closing. The sound has to be from either the closet or the bathroom.
I hold my breath, straining to hear anything else. If one of our friends is in here trying to scare Hayes, they’re about to get a naked Tori surprise.
Through the darkness I can make out the faint outlines of the door and the long narrow curtains covering the windows. Both the closet and bathroom doors are wide open. Could it have been the main door?
A putrid stench suddenly fills the air, so pungent and overpowering that it feels like it's clawing at my throat. It's the unmistakable smell of death—flesh rotting, decomposing, saturating the room with the reek of decay. I clamp my hand over my mouth and nose, fighting the urge to vomit as a deep sense of dread settles in the pit of my stomach.
A dark shadow slips over the bed.
I feel it then—tiny legs skittering up my arm. I slap at my skin in a frenzied panic, glimpsing a gigantic house centipede scuttling across my flesh. A shriek escapes me as I bolt upright, throwing the covers off. I stumble out of the bed, fumbling for the bedside lamp. My fingers finally find the switch, and a soft yellow glow floods the room. My heart races as I scan the room, but there’s nothing—no giant bug, no sign of anything or anyone that could have made those noises. Just Hayes, still asleep.
He slept through my scream?
I’m breathing in short, shallow gasps, trying to shake off the lingering sensation crawling over my skin. I rub my eyes, my mind racing. Hayes didn’t wake up. Did I actually scream? Did it even happen? “It must have been a nightmare,” I whisper to myself.
