A streamer is talking to the fifty people watching while Slava is being led out of the courthouse in handcuffs. His suit is rumpled, and that perfect composure on his beautiful face finally cracks.
I did it. Me. Five years of patience and playing the long game have finally gotten the world to see him the same way I’ve seen him:
Monster. Murderer.
But as I bask in my triumph, the scenery around me dissolves away. Voices fade into static. Sunlight grows cold and dim. I blink, and suddenly find myself bent over his desk, cheekpressed against the surface while his hand is wrapped around the back of my neck.
"I know it was you," he murmurs against my ear and that’s when I realize I’mnaked. "I’ve known this whole time."
His free hand slides down my spine, over the curve of my ass, and settles—hot and heavy—where my thighs meet my hips. A searing hot current of electricity moves through me like I touched a live wire.
I hate that my body is already inching backwards into his touch, and I hate even more how wet I already am.
Then, a finger slips forward and strokes my pussy, smearing myself with my shame from ass to clit.
I bite my lips to keep myself silent. But the moment he pushes his finger inside my slick folds, a trembling moan punches out of my throat. His teeth scrape my ear as he reaches deeper, and I feel my wetness growing. My hip arches into his touch, and my pulse races against his palms.
“Fuck you,” I snarl through gritted teeth.
“Be careful what you wish for, Ms. Creminelli.” He gives my ear another bite as he withdraws his finger. “You might just get it.”
I hear the sound of his zipper coming undone behind me. Heat mixes with the masculine scent of his erection. I shiver as the engorged hot head pushes its way into my pussy and another whimpering moan drifts past my lips.
“I may have killed your brother."
He inches forward at a maddeningly slow pace. His hand fists in my hair. My traitorous hips start wiggling eagerly to meet him.
“But that’snothingcompared to what I’ll do to you.”
And that’s the last thing he says before he buries himself to the hilt in one savage stroke.
I wake up with a gasp, heart slamming against my ribs like it's trying to escape.
My hand is between my legs. My fingers are buried in my pussy, and they’re moving with a reckless abandon.
No. No, wait, I?—
But my body doesn't give a shit about my protests. It doesn’t care about justice or vengeance or the fact that I'm supposed to hate him. My fingers are wet. My clit is throbbing. And before I can stop myself or do anything else other than chase away the achingemptinessbetween my legs…
I fucking come.
I come so fucking hard that my vision whites out and my ears start ringing.
My eyes roll into the back of my head. Pleasure rips through my body with shame following closely behind in my mind. I clamp my hand over my mouth just in time as a moan slips out of my mouth.
I lie there afterward in my sweaty, tangled sheets, and stare at the ceiling while shame bubbles in my stomach like something rotting. My ears are ringing. Tiny bursts of aftershocks are still making their way through my body.
Outside my window, the world is still draped in inky blackness. And somewhere in the wreckage of my subconscious, I’m disappointed that the dream ended.
I am so monumentally fucked.
The ringing won't stop.
I press the heels of my palms against my eyes, and try to force my breathing back to something resembling normal. The guilty pleasure is still pulsing between my legs and my heartbeat continues ringing in my ears.
It takes me a second before I realize that the ringingisn’tin my ears.
It's coming from my phone by the nightstand. Slowly, I untangle myself from my sheets and reach over to see just who might be calling at this hour.
