“This is what you do to me. You can try to run and scream, but that fear in your eyes only makes me want you more.”
He removes his hand from my mouth.
“I loathe you,” I seethe.
“Love and loathing are the same sensations, simply with different names.”
“That’s a lie. I hate you. Love isentirelyout of the question.”
Slowly, Ambrose’s hand moves lower inch by inch, until he’s slipping his fingers past the waistband of my pants and into my panties.
“Keep telling yourself that, but I think we both know that’s not entirely true. Look how wet you are for me, and I’ve barely even touched you yet.”
I’m frozen, ashamed of the effect his words have on me. Why is this turning me on? And even worse, why am I imagining him forcing me to take him in the middle of these woods?
It’s despicable.
But even as I want to yell, fight, something, I can’t help but roll my hips against him as his finger presses against my throbbing clit.Fuck, that feels good.
His fingers move slowly, rhythmically, just enough to make me desperate for more. With each shift of my hips, his cock rubs against my ass, and I reach up to steady myself against the tree trunk as the tension in my core winds tighter. The bark is rough against my palms, but clutching the tree is still preferable to collapsing in Ambrose’s arms. It may be the only minuscule shred of dignity I have left.
He leans forward over my hunched form to slide his fingers farther down, and there’s a pressure at my entrance just before he pushes two inside. I cry out at the sudden intrusion, and he curls his fingers inside me while his palm keeps steady pressure against my clit.
Fuck.
“That’s right, baby. Let me hear how good I make you feel,” he growls.
I bite back my moans, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of getting everything he wants from me, though I don’t know how much I’ll be able to hold back. I’m dangerously close to coming, and his movements are relentless as he pushes me closer and closer toward my orgasm.
“Is that how it’s going to be?” he taunts, noticing my attempts to hold back. “I do love a challenge…”
He picks up his pace and intensity, until I’m a writhing, needy mess beneath his touch. My pleasure builds inside me like a wire ready to snap, until I take a shuddering breath and?—
I wake from the dream with a start, my heart pounding in my chest and a throbbing ache between my thighs.
Holy. Shit.
The urge to slip my hand between my legs overwhelms me until I realize where I am and who’s in this house with me…
Ambrose probably did this on purpose. He admitted my dreams about him from before were all intentional on his part, and I’m sure this is another ploy to fuck with my head.
God, I hate him.
“Love and loathing are the same sensations with different names.” His words from my dream echo in my mind.
As if I’m not already going through enough stress, the last thing I need is to be thinking about fucking the immortal man—demon, Liminal, whatever—who forced me here against my will and is now making me carry out some ridiculous bargain that involves watching people die.
He doesn’t deserve my attraction, and I’m not about to give into his twisted mind games.
I hastily pull on my pajama pants and stomp downstairs,where Ambrose is sitting at the kitchen table writing in his leather journal and sipping a cup of coffee. When I stop in the doorway to cross my arms and glare at him, he slowly raises his gaze and lifts an eyebrow.
“Yes?”
“Stay the hell out of my dreams.”
He cocks his head. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
