Page 41 of Cruel Riches

“I’m not going to fight you,” I said, giggling softly as the imaginary Nate put his free hand around my neck.

“You really are fucked up, aren’t you?” he muttered. His other hand moved again, probing deeper between my thighs, invasive and intruding.

“I’m glad you aren’t really here,” I said, ignoring his question. After all, it wasn’t a real question. Just a figment of my twisted imagination.

“Why?” he asked softly.

My insides churned, twisted, and writhed as my body screamed for his masterful hands to keep playing with me. The warmth streaming through me had risen to almost agonizing levels; a white-hot, bone-deep need to feel him touch me. I wanted to feel him on me, inside me, around me, everywhere.

“Because it means I can tell you things I would never tell the real Nate,” I whispered.

“Like what?”

“Like how I wish you weren’t so fucking hot. How I wish I could stop thinking about you.” I was panting now, voice breathy and light. “How I wish part of me didn’t enjoy what happened earlier. But it’s true. I feel so fucking guilty.”

“You have a lot to feel guilty about, don’t you, Alexis?” he asked, squeezing my neck a little harder as his other hand played between my legs, grazing the hot bundle of nerves at my core.

“Yes. So much,” I murmured drowsily. “So fucking much.”

“You’re not just talking about tonight, are you?”

“No. My whole life. Everything is so…” I paused and let out a shaky breath. “I always feel so bad. I’m fucked up.”

“Then you should leave Avalon, shouldn’t you?” he said, lips on my neck. His stubble scratched against my skin, making goosebumps break out across my shoulders and chest. “Before I have to hurt you again.”

“Leaving won’t help. It won’t make me feel better. But this—” Every inch of my body suddenly contracted and squeezed, wound so tightly that I felt it might combust at any second. “This works. This is the only thing that makes me feel better.”

Nate’s electrifying touch was a drug, and I couldn’t get enough. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I actually wanted him.

But this wasn’t real desire or passion. This was fake. A dream, totally detached from reality.

Real passion didn’t hurt. It didn’t ambush you in the night and force you to your knees. It didn’t sneak into your room, wrap its cold hands around your throat, and whisper threats in your ear.

“You’re seriously crazy, aren’t you?” Nate said. “Totally fucked up.”

“No. I only want you like this because you’re not real,” I whispered as the pads of his fingers played me like the strings of an instrument. One finger slipped inside me, eliciting a whimper from my lips as sparks shot through my core.

Then it finally happened. An orgasm rocketed through me, making me sputter and pant like crazy as my body shuddered all over the bed.

When the pleasure had faded, I sank my head back into my pillow and smiled. “I like the imaginary version of you so much better,” I murmured, eyelids heavy with sleep.

When I finally managed to open my eyes again, the specter of Nate had vanished. The colors and stars had disappeared from my room as well, and I was no longer paralyzed.

Definitely a dream,I told myself. But then I noticed that my pajama pants were on the floor beside the bed, and my thighs were damp with arousal that had dripped from between my legs.

Shame and guilt immediately swept through me.

Nate’s presence in my room might’ve been imaginary, but the exhilarating climax I experienced from dreaming of him… that was all-too real.

I awokethe next morning to a loud rapping at my door. With a groan, I got out of bed, put my pajama pants back on, and padded over to open it.

A tall redheaded man stood outside, holding a package. “Alexis Livingston?”

I nodded. “That’s me. But I didn’t order anything.”

“I think it’s a gift,” he said. “Sign here, please.”

I took his pen, signed the paper on the clipboard he presented to me, and carried the box back into my dorm. My heart raced as I eyed it, wondering if I should even open it. For all I knew, it was a bomb from Nate, and the second I opened it my body would be blown to smithereens.

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