She’s dreaming about me. Whispering my name.
That means she wants me.
That means I’m allowed.
Beneath the duvet, her hand moves in a rhythm that coaxes the monster in me forward.
Her breathing shortens, quickens—each exhale fucking testing me.
A low groan rumbles in my throat before I can stop it, vibrating through me when I realize she’s touching herself while thinking about me.
I wrap a hand around my cock through my pants, matching the rhythm she’s set for herself.
I need this bloody duvet gone. It’s hiding what’s mine. And I won’t have that.
I need to see her gorgeous body writhe while she dreams about me.
It’s a risk, but one I welcome.
When I throw the duvet back, my heart pounds with some fucked-up desire to own this woman.
Which is ridiculous.
She wasn’t meant for a monster like me.
But I want her anyway.
One hand works slow, tight circles over her clit while the other roams her body like she knows I’m watching.
Something inside of me breaks wide open when Aurora pinches her stiff nipple and moans.
Fuck it. I already crossed the line.
And I refuse to turn back.
My shadows ache, begging to be let loose. One tendril slips free, snaking through the air toward her neck while I watch her fingers move faster beneath her underwear.
Fuck, all I can think about is how good her throat will look wrapped in black.
The shadow gliding across her skin takes shape, fingers forming around her delicate neck.
My nerves pulse and flare like lightning in a storm cloud, my body one strangled breath away from breaking.
Aurora’s eyes suddenly open, her unfocused gaze locking on mine.
Shit.
I go still.
If she screams, I deserve it.
If she claws at me, I won’t stop her.
But she doesn’t.
Her lids flutter shut.
Her fingers keep moving.
