Page 6 of Monstrous

What do they want me for, and why does this dream feel so much more real than anything else in my life?

I want to feel someone inside of me right now. Thrusting and pounding hard until I come apart in the most amazing explosion of sensation. I want to be fucked until I can barely breathe and I definitely can’t walk right the next day.

It’s been so long…so long since anyone has touched me the way I want to be touched. Since anyone has needed me the way I desire. Walker—

Walker loved me and the sex had been amazing between us. Although he hadn’t taken my virginity, he’d treated me right and set the standard for any future dalliances. He showed me what it was like to be loved by someone who cares about me getting mine—because otherwise what’s the point?

I’ve had a few flings over the years since, but nothing like how we were together. I’ve never been able to find fireworks again, but I’ve had a good time here and there. My lovers have always found a way to satisfy me.

These dream men are on an entirely different playing field.

This is what happens when my mind starts operating in full gear.

They work in tandem with each other. I can’t see their faces in the dream, but I know their shapes, the outline of them, and they are all male. I practically drown in testosterone.

And you know what?

I’m ready.

The one between my legs continues to lap at me, pushing my knees aside while the others touch me everywhere else, my lips open on a sigh and an invitation.

I come apart with a second orgasm, followed closely by a third, even though I’d never come multiple times in my life, and the intensity of the feeling forces me awake and gasping for breath. My body continues to tingle as I slowly blink. Trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

Rubbing my eyes to center myself, I still can’t make sense of the situation. What in the world is going on? I’ve never had dreams like that before. None that feel so real or vivid.

Moonlight filters in through the half-shuttered blinds and bathes the wreck of a room in shades of buttery silver. The shadows are only that—shadows. The sheets tangle around my legs but the cotton sliding over my skin doesn’t come close to what I’d felt in those dreams.

Vivid imagination, right. It has to be.

I’ve always been really good at imagining things and now that creativity has extended into men. Gotta be, because of the Sahara Desert of my love life. My body has had enough of my boring shit.

I roll over on my side and awareness prickles along the back of my neck.

Someone is watching me.

Jolting upright, I fumble for the light and flick it on to make sure there is no one else in the room. Because my senses tell me I’m not alone. There’s something out there, with me in their sights.

But once the light flicks on to banish the night, I see nothing.

Okay, fucking strange.

And a weird dream, too, if I’m being honest. I’ve never actually come from a dream before. There’s a first time for everything, but the strength of the orgasms shocks me.

I manage to fall back to sleep after a little bit of tossing and turning, but I keep the light on for comfort. For company.

Even getting ready in the morning I can’t shake the feeling of being watched, or the strange satisfaction I’d gotten from the dream. The voices in my head work hard to convince me to give in to them. Even in the shower I recognize the lure. The whispered echoes of the voices I’ve pushed aside for years with the help of those pills.

And they’re saying the most wonderful things to me.

Come to us, Marianna.

Let us taste you.

Play with you.

Claim you.

Devour you.

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