Page 45 of Only Mine
My hand slides down my body and over the cotton of my oversized shirt, the fabric catching on my peaked nipples. Then lower, between my legs, where I find the slick evidence of just how much this dream wrecked me.
Hishands replace mine in my head, his day-old scruff, the scrape of his teeth. My hips lift to meet the pressure of my palm and I bite my lip to keep from crying out his name.
“Close your eyes. You heard me. Do it.”
I murmur a reply. “Saint..”
“Now, let it linger. Feel the warmth on your tongue first …. Let it coat your tongue before you even think about swallowing.”
In my head, I scream.SAINT.
He falls to his knees. Palms my ass. Moans into my pussy when he presses his mouth against it…
I’m conjuring images of him so overwhelming and relentless that I come apart, shuddering, his name turning into a whispered gasp on my lips.
Afterward, I lie there, panting.
I’ve known the man for less than a week. He’s my boss. He’s a grieving widower. He’s emotionally unavailable. He’s ... perfect.
No.
Not perfect.
Complicated. Troubled. Tortured in a way that calls to my own scars, my own need for distraction.
I throw an arm over my eyes in an attempt to block out the lingering heat, the sound of his voice when he worships me, and the way my bodystillhums with want.
Rolling onto my side, I pull the covers higher, a sigh escaping my lips.
It was just a dream. A very, very effective dream. But still.
A low rumble, almost subliminal, vibrates through the floorboards of the guesthouse.
Hair falls into my face when I push up to my elbows, frowning.
It sounded distant, like a truck on a far-off highway.
Before I can process it, an earsplitting CRACK shatters the quiet, so loud and sudden it’s like the sky itself ripped open directly above me.
My body jerks violently, a strangled yelp tearing from my throat. My heart catapults into my windpipe, choking me.
Thunder. That’s all it is.
But this isn’t the rolling city thunder that I found to be pleasant white noise while sleeping in my apartment in Brooklyn. No, this is the kind that announces its arrival with the fury of a vengeful god.
Another flash illuminates the small room in stark, ghostly white, followed by a deafening boom that rattles the windowpanes in their frames. Rain begins to lash against the glass,driven by a wind that howls like a banshee around the eaves of the little house.
The guesthouse, moments ago a cozy sanctuary, now feels like Dorothy’s before she was launched into Oz.
Familiar tendrils of panic start to spread into my chest. The lights flicker once, twice, then plunge the room into absolute blackness.
“No. No, no, no.”
My denial’s swallowed by the roar of the storm. I’m in absolute darkness. It presses in on me, suffocating.
Fingers fly to my scalp, twisting a thick strand of hair until my scalp screams in protest. The small, sharp pain is a pinprick of focus in the overwhelming black.
Another crack of thunder, closer this time, and the floor beneath me seems to tremble.
