Somebody whoops behind me.
Somebody laughs.
I don’t look back.
I want them to see.
That’s the part that makes my stomach twist even in the dream, a small sober sliver of me screaming in the background that this ain’t private. This ain’t safe. This ain’t a secret.
This is a spectacle.
And I’m making it one.
Oaks’ hand slides to my waist, not pulling me in, not pushing me away, just holding a line he’s trying to keep me from crossing. His fingers flex like he’s gripping the edge of control.
“Quit it,” he says, and it’s a growl buried deep, the kind of sound that belongs to a man who’s used to being obeyed.
I tip my head back and laugh in his face, shameless.
“You like it,” I say, and I don’t even know if I said it out loud in real life or only in my own stupid head, but it feels true in the dream. It feels like I can see it in his eyes, the heat he’s denying, the hunger he’s refusing.
I push up on my toes and put my mouth close to his ear, close enough that my words turn into breath against skin.
“Tell me no,” I whisper. “Tell me you don’t want me.”
His throat works.
He doesn’t answer.
That silence is a yes in my drunk brain.
So I get worse.
I turn, pressing my back to him, sliding down into the rhythm like the music is in my bones. My head falls back andmy hair brushes his jaw. I feel him behind me, solid and hot, his cock against my ass. I move like I’m trying to erase every boundary between us.
Oaks’ hand tightens at my waist.
Not to encourage.
To stop.
To hold me still before I do something I can’t take back.
His voice is low, in my ear. “You’re drunk.”
“So?” I slur, and the word comes out careless, sloppy, like I’ve never faced consequences in my life.
His breath hits my skin. “So you don’t get to decide this right now. Find me tomorrow, when you’re sober, and I’ll give you what you want. What you need.”
I twist around to face him again, offended, because drunk-me hates being told what I can’t do. Drunk-me hates being handled. Drunk-me wants to be wanted, wants it loud, wants it public, wants it undeniable.
I grab at him again, at his shoulders, at his chest, pulling him down toward me like I can force his mouth to mine if I try hard enough.
He catches my hands.
Both of them.
Pins them gently but firmly against his chest so I can feel his heart thudding under my palms.
