Page 79 of While You Sleep

“I was fucking you again,” he said, not a question. “The monster was fucking you.”

“Yes,” I gasped, squeezing my thighs together.

“That’s what you want from me, isn’t it, pet?” he growled against my ear.

I didn’t answer. He was talking to me, but I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to say? If he thought I was going to fight him this time, to tell him to stop, he was wrong. I wanted him to touch me so badly I was slick and achy. He squeezed my breast, and I whimpered.

“Answer me,” he said in a hard, detached voice.

He wasn’t going to let me hide in the darkness and pretend what happened between us last night hadn’t, or what was about to happen between us now was out of my control. And he wasn’t going to let me forget that he thought I’d betrayed him, or that he’d made me his prisoner, his whore.

It hurt, even knowing how Cillian was, this fucking hurt. But he was right, I did want him.

“Yes,” I whispered.

In the next breath, he yanked my shirt up and off, tossing it aside. His other hand thrust down the front of my panties and he grazed my clit, sliding lower.

“Always fucking desperate for it,” he said and shoved me to my back.

“Your beard,” I whispered. I’d noticed it was gone last night, but everything had been so out of control, waking to him inside me, then it was over and he’d gotten up and left. The beard had softened him a little, I realized as I looked up at him, but now he was brutally handsome, all sharp angles, a raw fierceness about him that stole my breath.

He pushed my thighs wide and stared down at me as he thrust two fingers inside me. He flashed his teeth, not a smile, not even close. “Is it like being finger-fucked by a stranger?” he asked and thrust in deep, then back out.

No, because the man I loved shone from his gorgeous green eyes. “Cillian,” I groaned, reaching for him, touching his smooth jaw.

He grabbed my hand and held it over my head, not letting me touch him, and continued his torture, working me with those long, thick fingers, over and over, until I was a shuddering panting mess.

“Cunt’s always drenched and ready for my cock, like a good little whore.”

His words should make me feel worthless, but they just told me how much I’d hurt him. I whimpered, so close to coming that my hips lifted, needing more, needing him. “P-please…”

“Please what?” His fingers moved faster.

“I need you,” I panted.

“Tell me exactly what you want, Sophia. What was I doing to you in your dream? Say it.”

My stomach trembled and my thighs shook. He swiped his thumb over my clit, and I cried out. “Chasing me…h-holding me down. Please, Cillian, please fuck me.”

He pulled his fingers from me, shoved my thighs wide, and pressed the fat head of his cock at my opening, pushing it in. “Fucking take it,” he said, then slammed inside me.

I came instantly, arching and screaming, my pussy clamping down on him again and again as stars danced in my eyes. He held me down and fucked me hard and deep. I clung to him, needing something to ground me, needing him to anchor me when I was spiraling out of control. My eyes opened when he took my chin in his hand and stared down at me, teeth gritted, eyes glittering in the shadows. His eyes weren’t cold now, they were hot, burning into me.

“You did this,” he snarled. “You did this to me.”

I gripped the side of his throat and shook my head. “I lov—”

He covered my mouth with his hand and slammed into me, grunting, those eyes still blazing down at me, stopping me from saying the words, even as I felt the smooth metal of his wedding ring against my lips. He hadn’t taken it off. He pulsed thickly inside me and groaned, and with how deep he was fucking me, hitting me exactly where I needed him, I came with him, moaning against his hand still clamped over my mouth.

He finally collapsed, his ragged breaths against my throat. I wrapped my arms around him, and he instantly rolled away. He lay on his back, his arm over his eyes, still catching his breath. His rejection hurt, but I refused to let it get to me. He was confused and hurt, and the only way he knew how to deal with that was to punish me.

My gaze moved over his now smooth jaw, down his throat, to the white bandage wrapped around his bicep, then to his hand resting on his stomach, and down to his wedding ring, still where I’d put it. He told me he didn’t care, but that ring told me otherwise. God, he was beautiful. “How’s your arm?”

He didn’t answer.

I edged closer, and this time, he didn’t move. “I started to think you’d never come. That you’d forget about me.”

Again, no answer.

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