He spreads my legs with his knee and lets me lean back against him. His fingers press over mine, guiding them lower, pressing them to my clit. He moves them in slow circles. Controlling every motion.
“This is all you, Freckles,” he whispers against my ear. “You’ll finger yourself until your knees betray you.”
I have no answers.
He is locked up.
They would have called me if he escaped.
I can dream, right? This has to be a dream.
He lifts my hand and makes me slap my wet skin before I slide two fingers inside myself. I move them in and out as my palm slams against my clit, faster now, desperate.
“Good girl,” he growls.
My head falls against his chest, my eyes closing.
I bite my lip and spread it open as a moan slips out, just from thinking about him.
“Think of me, Freckles,” he whispers. “Think about how I would spread you open and explore you like a fucking map, with no final destination.”
I thrust my fingers deeper, feeling my body tighten around them, my inner flesh clenching against my fingertips.
“Think about how I would hold your legs in the air until you shook,” he continues, voice dark and hungry, “and I wouldn’t stop, because I would treat you like my last fucking meal.”
I moan again, short gasps breaking free as pleasure overtakes me, my body giving in completely.
“Think how I would hold your neck locked between my fingers as I shoved every inch of my cock inside you,” he chuckles, “until I spread you open and ruin every single man who fucked you before and after I ever got the chance.”
My inner flesh tightens around my fingers as I thrust in and out, faster, harder, until my knees start to lose their balance. I pull my fingers out and rub my clit instead, biting my lip as I struggle to stay standing.
“Come for me, Freckles,” he whispers in my ear. “Come like you never have for anyone before. I want you to moan my name.”
I moan, trying to push my fingers back inside, but I am too sensitive.
My thighs shake every time I brush my clit, but he doesn’t care. He takes my hand, and when my fingers grow numb, he continues touching me, circling my clit with ruthless patience until I moan again.
He guides my hand back down, forcing two fingers inside me once more, my palm slamming against my clit as I move faster, desperate.
“Fuck,” I moan. “Fuck, I can’t, Zayne. Fuck.”
My knees buckle, and I collapse to the floor, my hand still inside me as my body shakes uncontrollably with pleasure.
I breathe heavily, my fingers dripping wet, leaving a dark stain on the wooden floor beneath me.
“Fuck,” I cry out again, still trembling with the aftershocks.
The only sound left is Daisy scratching at the door, nails scraping against the wood as she barks to be let in.
“Fuck,” I whisper, turning around.
He is gone.
The window still stands open. Cold air slips inside, brushing against my damp skin.
I move toward it, heart hammering as I lean out and scan the street below. But outside, there is nothing but empty streets, no movement, with no shadows disappearing into the dark.
“Just a dream,” I murmur, though the words feel thin the moment they leave my mouth.
