Page 39 of Sweet Nightmares
“Shhh,” a soft baritone melody sang into her hair and held her like a straitjacket. “Shhh, you’re alright, little doe. You’re alright.”
Jane blinked and then blinked again, a fuzzy world beginning to focus, but her body could not move. Nightmare clutched herchin tightly, staring into her eyes and pinning her torso and legs to the bed.
“Breathe.” It was a command. Magic filled her lungs, and Jane complied. “Breathe,” Nightmare said again, still clutching her jaw hard.
Jane closed her eyes and sank into the feel of him encasing her, and she breathed in one, two, three, four counts and held her breath for another count of four before releasing it to a count of four. She opened her eyes again when she had finished that cycle three times.
“Tell me their names.” His voice wasn’t hard, but it wasn’t soft either.
For the last two years after Jane’s first husband’s death, she had night terrors. Dreams of his hands around her neck that sometimes felt so real she swore she woke up with white finger indents in her skin. It didn’t happen every night—at least not anymore—but the dreams were extreme and felt so real when they did. Sometimes, they included her first husband’s deputies, but often not. But every time Jane woke up from one of these terrors, it was in Nightmare’s arms.
So it wasn’t surprising that he thought she was dreaming about them again.
“It wasn’t them.” Her voice was hoarse. She must have been screaming. “It was my parents.”
“Your parents?” His eyes darkened.
Jane’s eyebrows scrunched. “Oh, no, they didn’t do anything to me.” Jane gulped. “They died… They were murdered.”
Nightmare’s chest rumbled, and the only remaining black strand of hair fell in front of his liquid silver eyes.
“It happened when I was ten years old.” Jane squeezed his shoulder, almost as if she were the one comforting him. “I am not sure if the dream was a memory or a distortion.”
Jane needed to find out. It wasn’t the first time she’d had a night terror about it. In fact, it was overtaking the ones about her abusers, almost like her subconscious was trying to tell her something. She knew the dreams wouldn’t stop until she addressed them.
She also wanted to look into it for herself. Jane didn’t remember that night. Her brain was locked, and the key had been thrown away a long time ago.
But maybe it was time to revisit it—time to learn the truth about her parents’ murders.
“I want to find out,” she said. “I want to know what happened to them.”
Nightmare only grunted in response and slightly shifted his body.
Jane’s breath hitched as she suddenly became very aware that Nightmare was still pinning her to her bed and still had his hands all over her. But even more disconcerting was that he had a massive hard-on, and it was digging into her pelvis.
Jane wiggled, and she felt the friction against her clit. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, sucking in the moan of pleasure.
Their game of tension had two rules: never let the other see and never ever mention it.
At least those were her rules, because Jane was very uncertain whether he even wanted her. Although his hard cock might suggest he did. But he never acted on it and never mentioned it.
It was infuriating.
Two years of tension pooled in her stomach. Two years waiting for him to fuck her—to touch her sexually.
But he didn’t.
He never did. But his eyes possessed her. In everything they did, his gaze followed her, caressing her, punishing her, holding her, fucking her.
But never—never his hands, or mouth, or penis, and it was beginning to make her mad. In every definition of the word.
“Why don’t you fuck me?” Damnit. She broke the second rule of tension—never mention it. “Are you not attracted to me?” And she broke first—never let him see. That last bit came out far too desperate, and Jane snapped her lips closed. Mortified.Fuck, get control of yourself.
Nightmare ran his thumb along her jaw and then over her lips. His gaze latched onto her soul. “Because you never gave me permission.”
“I—” Her mouth fell open, and his thumb entered, continuing his caressing. “What?”
“I will fuck you in all ways. Gentle, rough, possessive, demanding, lovingly. I will own and destroy you, but first, you must be ready.”
