Is this real?
He moves my hips up and down, dragging me over his chin and his rough beard. My sensitive flesh throbs as he licks his way back to my clit, circling it, then sucking until my thighs begin to shake.
I close my eyes for just a blink, but when they open again, his gaze never leaves mine. He keeps going, and when I think he will stop, when I think I am already done, he doesn’t.
He pushes his tongue inside me again, deeper this time. I scream, my moans breaking into short gasps. My mouth falls open, my brows pulling together as I try to hold myself together, but I can’t.
I fall apart, and he takes every piece of me.
“Fuck,” I whisper. “God,” I moan.
My hips slide down from his face to his chest. I sit on him, my hands gripping my head, trying to understand if this is real or just a dream.
But he pushes me down. I fall beside him, and then he moves on top of me, forcing my body into the mattress beneath us.
He unbuttons his pants and pulls them down. His cock springs free and brushes against my throbbing, oversensitive pussy. He shrugs off his black hoodie, revealing a body carved with muscle and scars. Every scar feels like a map, each one leading straight to his heart.
He grabs my ankles, lifting them into the air and spreading my legs wide. Every muscle in my thighs stretches, burning as tingles ripple through me.
One hand keeps my left leg raised while he releases the other. He grips his cock, and, without hesitation, shoves it inside me. He doesn’t wait. He pushes in, inch by inch, filling me completely. All nine inches he promised, until I stretched around him.
My mouth falls open as I gasp, my body arching as he fills me.
“Spread your pussy and show me how you want me,” he says, his voice commanding me as every inch sinks inside me.
He leans down, his hand closing around my throat. His fingers tighten, squeezing just enough to steal my breath. Then he starts to thrust, driving into me again and again.
My legs lock around his hips, a desperate attempt to hold onto what little dignity I have left, but he takes it anyway. His fingers slide into my mouth, holding me there as he fucks me so hard my mind goes completely blank.
There is no scientific explanation for this. This is not some psychological phenomenon written about in textbooks. This is pure lust. A woman unraveling beneath a dangerous, questionable man while he fucks her senseless. If you told thisstory to someone, even a psychiatrist like me, they would call you insane.
But diagnosis or not, I know the truth.
I am crazy about Zayne Mercer.
I gasp for air. He does too. His body crushes into mine as his mouth crashes onto my lips, his tongue thrusting inside just as his cock drives deeper into me. My inner flesh tightens, trying to build walls around him, walls he is determined to break.
I can still taste myself on his lips, and I don’t mind. I am already losing myself in his touch.
He pins my hands above my head, forcing me to arch my back until my stomach presses against his abs. He keeps thrusting, deeper now, and my legs spread wider beneath him.
“Do you want me to be your dream or your nightmare?” he asks, locking his eyes with mine.
He releases my hands only to grab my neck, making me gasp.
“Say it,” he says as he thrusts deeper inside me.
My pussy pulses around him, begging him to slow down, but he only grows rougher.
“I…” I gasp, my breath shallow.
“Say it,” he repeats.
“Nightmare,” I finally whisper. No one in sweet little dreams fucks like this. “Be my nightmare.”
A smirk curves the corner of his lips as he drives deeper into me, faster now. My inner flesh tightens around his throbbing cock.
“Fine, Freckles.” He leans into my neck, dragging his skin against mine before biting down. “I will fuck you like your worst nightmare and keep you like the best dream you would sell your soul not to wake from.”
