is immediate and embarrassing. I moan like a woman being fucked. There’s no mistaking the sound I make and instantly my cheeks flush and my nipples pebble, betraying me. I snatch my hand away, rubbing at the spot Berrin had held as though burnt.
“I’m going to my room,” I repeat, before twisting on my feet and practically running away from them all. They don’t follow and I’m not sure whether that’s a blessing or a curse.
Hours later I wake up in a sheen of sweat, aroused by another dream. Once again I’m trembling and needy, my clit swollen and sensitive. In this dream or memory, I’m not entirely sure of which, Mathieson was the one who had fucked me. We were in the forest, and he had me pressed up against the trunk of a tree, the rough bark biting into the palms of my hands as he held my hair in his fist and entered me roughly from behind. It had been a savage fuck, brutal but mind-blowing. The echoes of the orgasm that was either conjured from my imagination or from my memory lingers still.
Instead of relieving myself like I normally would, I head upstairs to grab a glass of water, hoping that doing something mundane will distract me from this ever-increasing desire to fuck.
When I enter the main living space, I’m surprised to find that it’s dark. The room is empty with just one lamp on, the soft light from the bulb illuminating the space just enough for me to find a glass from the cupboard above the sink. I can hear the low murmur of male voices coming from the den, but I don’t seek the Torben brothers out. Instead, I occupy myself with sipping my glass of water and walking over to the window to stare out at the dark forest surrounding the house. I’m not exactly sure what time it is but it must be nearing midnight. The moon is high and bright, an otherworldly pendant hanging in the sky and covering the front drive and surrounding trees in a silvery glow. Rain still pours and the huge puddle that had formed on the first day I arrived now looks more like a mini lake. If it weren’t for all the trees surrounding the property soaking up all the extra water, I’d be worried about flooding. Pressing my free hand against the windowpane, the cool glass soothes my flushed skin. Right now I’m just wearing another borrowed t-shirt and my underwear. It’s hot in the basement and something tells me that I usually sleep naked. Of course, doing so in a house with these three men probably isn’t the best idea, especially given the way I’m feeling lately. I might just beg one of them to put me out of my misery and fuck me. Making a whimpering noise, I place the now empty glass on the window ledge, press my heated cheek against the windowpane and close my eyes. It’s the worst thing I could do. Almost instantly I’m rocked by the lingering images of the dream I’d just woken up from. I groan, my nipples peaking with the memory of being pinched between Mathieson’s finger and thumb. My hands slide over my stomach seeking out the spot between my legs, needing to ease the desperate sensation I feel there. I swear to fuck, the dream was so real, this feeling so potent that it can’t be anything other than a memory. Pressing my fingers against my clit over my t-shirt and knickers, my eyes roll into the back of my head at the sensation. My hips buck against my hand in search of the orgasm that will ease this feeling inside, but the pressure isn’t enough. It’s never enough.
“Hey, are you okay?” a concerned voice asks me, despite the sharp edges and gravelly tone.
Mathieson.
I’m not sure if I’ve conjured him up from my still vivid memory, dream, whatever, or if he is actually standing so close behind me that I can feel his warm breath on the back of my neck.
“You’re trembling,” he states, but there’s a darkness to his tone that has my core tightening. My fingers are still pressed against my pussy over my t-shirt. I wonder if he’s noticed.
“I don’t feel…” My voice trails off as the heat of his body seeps into my back through my thin white t-shirt. He’s so tall, so masculine, so edged in darkness. Everything about him is overwhelming, in a dangerous way. A