I’m still trembling when I open my eyes to meet his gaze. Hardness has etched itself into his dark eyes as he lazily palms my breast, triggering another flutter in my belly. Beneath his stillness, there’s a storm—full of fury and barely leashed.
For every action, there’s a consequence, and I knew what mine would be when I betrayed him. That wound lingers like a cancer between us, poisoning his thoughts and hemorrhaging the darkness from his mind.
On an impulse, I shift toward him, face brushing against his thigh. I wait for a rejection that doesn’t come, and after a breath, I start to explore. Palms gliding over the structured fabric of his pants, I press into his solid mass of muscle and heat. He is everything that makes a man. Flesh and bone. Strength and power. Dominance and command.
Hunger unfurls deep in my belly as his fingers slide through the strands of my hair, cupping my skull. The faintest sound of approval vibrates from his chest, and I want to play that sound on repeat while he uses my mouth.
I’m too far gone to see reason as I fumble with his zipper. That lasts all of one heartbeat before he grabs a fistful of my hair and tips my head back. I feel the full weight of his smoldering stare as he drags his gloved thumb over my lips.
Darkness hums between us as he slowly slides his zipper down and releases what I’m quite certain puts every other man to shame. There’s no delicate way to say it. It’s a thick, throbbing, veiny monstrosity of a cock.
With his eyes on mine, he strokes the length, and I choke on my nerves. The mere size of him nearly eclipses my face. I can’t imagine what it would feel like if it were lodged in my throat.
Fortunately for me, he decides to keep me alive a while longer. I watch, fascinated by the sight of him fisting his cock. With every stroke, his muscles strain the fabric of his shirt, giving me a small glimpse of his strength. I want to strip him bare and explore every inch of his primitive landscape.
He edges himself toward release, and I’m enrapt by the sight of it. His roughness. Those ragged exhalations beneath his mask. The way he tips his head back as his body goes rigid. The low, guttural groan that pulls from his chest as he finds his release lights up every pleasure center in my brain.
A torrent of hot cum splashes across my naked breasts, and the shock of warmth feels like a brand. It stirs that ancient instinct in my reptilian brain—the primal satisfaction of being conquered and claimed by the fiercest man in the village.
I wonder if he feels it too as he paints me with his mark, his palm smearing it across my chest. Another spark of pleasure ripples through me when he brings his wet glove to my face and slides two fingers past my parted lips. Salt and leather coat mytongue as I surrender to the craving and swallow the taste of him.
He strokes my cheek one last time, his eyes moving over me as I lie there, breasts bared, thighs soaked. And then, just as soon as he appeared…he’s gone.
“Abella?”
Gabi’s voice stirs me from sleep, and when I open my eyes, I find myself sprawled face down across the bed. I blink away the fog of confusion and glance around in search of her.
“Gabs?”
“I’m right here.” She laughs, the sound muffled beneath me.
I drag myself upright and find the phone beneath me, where I must have fallen asleep on it. Worse than that is the realization that I unintentionally answered Gabi’s video call, and she’s staring at me with a mixture of shock and amusement.
“Nice melons.”
“What?” I look down, perplexed and slightly horrified that my boobs are on full salute.
“Oh, God. Hang on.” I fling the phone onto the bed and adjust my disheveled tank top, but as I do, I feel something sticky on my chest.
“I bet Matteo can’t wait to get his paws on those,” Gabi muses from the speaker.
“Please don’t remind me,” I mutter. “Gabs, can you hang on a minute? I’ll be right back.”
“Sure.”
I walk into the bathroom and lift my top, wondering if I’m having a weird reaction to my new body cream. But as I’m washing it from my skin, I realize my tank top feels crunchy too.When I bring it to my nose and inhale, I freeze. The faintest hint of citrus and clove lingers on the material, and a whisper of a memory floats into my consciousness. Soft at the edges, almost out of reach…and then fragments come flooding back all at once.
Rough hands, dark whispers, velvet dripping with sin…
Flashes of the masked stalker blur together with images of Angelo, disorienting me as I try to separate reality from imagination.
Vivid dreams are a side effect of the sleeping pills, and on the occasions I do take them, I tend to dream of him. But they’ve never felt soreal.And as I take stock of my body and the sticky feeling between my thighs, I realize I didn’t just orgasm in the dream.
For a second, I wonder if I’m going insane. Could I really have done that in my sleep?
I reach for my body cream and scan the ingredients list, frowning when I see the orange oil. Of course I chose this scent…because I’m a glutton for punishment. But is that what’s on my chest?
“Are you still alive?” Gabi calls out from my phone in the other room.
