My thighs were sticky. Not sweat, but cold, like I’d been wiped down with a damp cloth. The laughter came again, this time from under the bed. I kicked my legs free, and the rest of my body hit the floor while I blindly looked under the bed. The empty space between the bed and floor seemed to mock my alcohol ridden brain.
A distant knocking or tapping sound made my ears prick up. No, it sounded like wood against wood, rocking in the distance. I swallowed before I stared at the white door, wondering what was behind it. What I did know was that I would not be opening it. Yes, it might be Rachel fucking with me but that didn’t explain my missing knickers or maybe I did take them off.
I looked at my phone and considered calling Sabby, but she slept like the dead after drinking. The noises all evaporated like a dream. I sat staring at my phone before picking it up and climbing on the bed to fix the sheets and quilt.
I was being silly, I told myself, but I left the lamp on.
Chapter 3
Clara
Ahand pushed its way between my thighs, parting them. I arched off the mattress as phantom fingers circled my nipples—too many fingers, moving in unnatural patterns. My body responded before my mind could protest, hips lifting shamelessly toward the invading touch.
“Clara.” The voice vibrated through my bones rather than my ears. “Such a greedy little vessel.”
I nodded at the echoing voice. Something thick and wrong pressed against my entrance. Not flesh—something that pulsed with its own rhythm. I whimpered as it breached me, the stretch burning in a way that tipped dangerously between pain and obscene pleasure.
“Shh, sweeting, you can take me.” The voice coaxed me.
A cold mouth sucked my nipple, while he forged his way into me, stretching me open like never before. The vivid dream made my pussy gush as the rhythmic sucking on my breast made me pant. The shape of the tongue was too wide and he sucked too deep. It felt wrong.
“Deeper,” the voice crooned, and suddenly I felt it. “My rent is due, dear. This is my price.Take everything I give you.”
I cried out as it seated itself fully, the unnatural shape fitting against my cervix like a key in a lock. The heavy bulge at the base of him. The thick head of his cock hit me deep and the pain made me wince.
“Your ripe young womb isn't yours tonight, sweeting.It is mine.”
Fingers curled around my neck, pushing me into the pillows, suffocating me as it began to pound into me.
“I’m knocking on the door of your womb. Let my seed pass, Clara.” The eerie voice said angrily. “It is mine.”
My body rocked to the force of his thrusts.
Slap, slap, slap, slap.
I had no sight, but I heard the lewd sounds of his relentless brutality, and I raised my hips for more.
A breathless laugh surrounded me. Mocking me, before a hand cruelly slapped my breast, stealing the air from my lungs.
“My good little harlot. Take it.” The voice seethed.
Blood rushed around my head, and I became aware of the bed creaking beneath me. It grew louder until the wooden frame hit the wall.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
I broke. I cracked. I screamed in my mind.
Pleasure came in crashing waves, making me forget the pain.
Laughter full of madness consumed me as I clenched around his hefty cock that continued to batter my insides.
“Perfect.” The voice hissed.
He slammed into me so hard that my fingers clawed the bed to ground myself. He erupted inside me, but there was no heat, only ice-cold liquid. The fingers tightened around my neck as I contracted around him.
Clenching him.
Milking him.
