Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
He comes up behind me, pushing his naked body into mine. Then he turns me toward the tiled wall, urging me to take a step.
I do. I don’t fight him. It’s stupid and pointless. He gets his way every time. All he has to do is bite that lip of his and I’m out of control.
“Ryet.” He whispers my name right into my ear. “Do you hate me?”
“Do I hate you?” Even if he wasn’t pressing me into the wall face first, I still wouldn’t look at him right now. Because the truth is, I do. I absolutely do hate him. And even though I have told him that hundreds of times, this time is different. Because all those other times he dismissed it, and this time, I can tell, he won’t.
And I’m not going to say that to him. Not because it will piss him off and he might hurt me, but because despite my hate, I don’t want to hurt him.
And that’s all it would take for me to hurt him.
Just words.
He is vulnerable. But only with me.
Why?
That’s what I say. “Why, Paul? Why the fuck do you love me so much?” It’s same question I asked him—what? Yesterday? “Why? Just tell me why without using the word ‘pretty.’”
He rests his head on my shoulder, his fingertips stroking up and down my stomach, and I’m not gonna lie, he turns me on like fucking crazy. And it’s not just his blood, either. It’s just… him. “When I first took notice of you, it was two towns over.”
My brow furrows. “What?”
“In a bar. Well, outside of a bar. You were fighting.”
“When?”
“Before… well, before.”
My mind is spinning. He’s never told me anything about how he chose me. And just as I think these words, he leans in and kisses me on the neck. His fangs scraping my skin. Opening it up. And then he’s licking the blood off me.
It’s the purple. So none of this is real. That’s partly why I don’t stop him. But it also feels good. I can fight him off over the phone, or even in person if he’s not bleeding and he doesn’t touch me. But this? No. I have no interest in stopping him now.
Even if it wasn’t a dreamwalk, if he got this close to me in person, I’d be all over him like a fucking addict.
“Do you want to hear more?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” And then I turn to face him. It’s a mistake. I know it’s a mistake before I do it. But I know Paul. If he gives something, he wants something in return.
If he tells me about my past, I will give myself to him. Here, in the dream, at least.
And he reads all this in my face and smiles as he strokes my rough cheek with the back of his hand. “You won that fight.”
“Why was I fighting?”
Paul leans in and touches his lips to mine. It’s not a kiss. It’s just a touch. An incredibly erotic tease because I can smell blood on him. Like he bit the inside of his tongue or cheek so he can hide the fact that he’s using his blood to control me.
I am the one who kisses him. That’s why he did this. He wants me to come to him.
It’s a long, slow kiss. Our heads turning in just the right way so that we fit together. His chest pushed into mine. Our hips sliding together in the slickness of the steam and the water.
Up until now my hands have been at my sides. But I pull out of the kiss and touch him now. One hand on his hip, the other slipping between us to take hold of him. I watch his expression as this happens and his eyes immediately start to close with lust.
I kiss him again. And I whisper the words, “Tell me more,” into his mouth. “Tell me all of it.”
“Not all of it. But I will tell you more.” He pulls away from me and turns me around so I’m facing the wall again. Then he slips his hands around my hips, makes two fists around my cock, and leans his chest into my back. “I nearly came, watching you. The look on your face. The determination. The anger. And, of course, the blood. All over your knuckles, and your t-shirt, and your mouth. I wanted to kiss you right then and there. And do you know that every time I do kiss you, I think of that night?”
I let out a long breath. “Why was I fighting?”
“There was some kind of insult, I think. I didn’t catch the whole beginning. Just pieced together context by listening to the conversation. And back in those days this is how men settled things. They beat each other up and the winner was the winner. It was a much simpler time. I liked it.”