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“Wanna binge the Ocean’s Eleven movies later?”
I snort. “Obviously.”
She flashes me a smile as she opens the door. “OK. Get some sleep, Frey.”
But sleep is the last thing on my mind. I make my way back to the window, my heart still racing as I remember the unsettling, deviant, dark dreams involving Mal.
I press my palms to the glass and gaze out at the city beneath me.
The dream feltso real. His touch, his voice—it feels real even now, in the cold light of day, locked safely away from the world.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, startling me. I grab it, glancing at the screen to see an incoming text from an unknown number.
Unknown
You belong to me now.
Something cold rakes its claws down my back. At the same time, something horriblywarmfloods my core.
I should delete the text. I should block his number, flee the country, doeverythingto get away from him.
But I won’t.
Because deep down, I know the horrible truth.
He’s right.
11
FREYA
I stir in my sleep,my mind foggy, drifting somewhere between dreamland and consciousness. Mal’s hands are on me—firm, rough, his fingers tracing over my body like it’s his to claim.
His hot skin presses against mine, his body heavy and chiseled and solid. It’s a sensation I’ve felt before, somewhere in the murky haze of my unconscious—a twisted blend of fear and desire, swirling together until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
I moan softly, my body instinctively arching into his touch.
I know this is a dream.
Yet again.
But even if the person my mind has chosen as the main character of this particular sex dream is a complete psychopath who may or may not have some of the most damning, dangerous leverage over me possible, that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it, right?
Right.
So I let myself sink into the black, swirling heat of his touch. I allow myself to let go, to moan and writhe as yet another of the dark, twisted dreams drags me under.
Maybe I’ll wake up confused and ashamed again.
…Maybe it’s worth it.
I whimper when his hands forcefully cup my breasts, his fingers pinching, twisting, and tugging on my aching nipples through my cotton t-shirt, brutalizing them and bringing a cry of pleasure to my choked throat.
One hand pushes lower, slowly, deliberately, sliding down over my stomach. He cups my pussy through my sleep shorts and panties, and when I feel a thick finger drag dangerously up my slit, I shamelessly lift my hips to press my sex harder against him.
“Such a greedy little whore,”he murmurs quietly.
“Fuck yes,” I murmur back, my eyes squeezed shut as he rubs my clit through my panties.
