Page 15 of Tempted
Additional follow up question: Am I making all of that up?
Five: And this should probably be higher on my list but screw it. How in the hell have these guys survived here? And for how long? I know I’d recognize them from the island if they’d gone anywhere on it. Or I’d have at least heard of them being that they’re huge and quite literally the sexiest men I’ve ever seen with the exception of my creepy professor, but his aura and his attitude ruin all of the hotness about him.
Damn it! Stop thinking about that man. He’s plagued your thoughts enough.
Six: What do I do now? How long have I been knocked out? Will I be stuck in this room with these guys? And for how long? I have water and snacks, even first aid, but it’s not enough for all of us and it won’t last that long.
Speaking of first aid, I need to check on these guys. They may be strangers but I somehow feel like I know them and they were in the belly of the beast with me while the earth shook, the winds howled, and raining water, fire, and rock came down on us all. I likely wasn’t the only one who sustained injuries, though surprisingly I feel totally fine now and I notice that my legs are visible with no marks that would lead me to believe I’d ever even been hurt in the first place.
But really, where are my pants?
Thank the heavens I’m still wearing my spandex shorts at least, and now I can see my legs and feet, neither of which are even bruised, let alone broken.
Okay, that’s it. I must have imagined things. That or I need to go back to the dream theory, but when I pinch myself and it definitely hurts, I decide this being a dream is somehow less likely than me actually being stuck inside a massive hand built rock formation, temple-like structure with magical beings that can change their size and wield elemental magic.
Right, because that makes a whole bunch of sense, Felix. Get it together!
Anyway, back on track, I reach over to the guy nearest me andwhoa, this man is beautiful. Like, think of the most stunning man you’ve ever seen and then multiply that by one hundred, thousand million and three quarters. He’s that insanely attractive. High, defined cheekbones, a sharp jawline, perfect eyebrows, and luxurious long light brown hair that flows down past his perfectly tan shoulder blades. His complexion is perfect in a way that you’d think he was an airbrushed photo if you didn’t see him in real life. He looks to be of Native descent, and so flawless it seems impossible. I almost can’t look at him for too long for fear of weeping in awe of him.
After doing a quick perusal of his nearly naked body—for medical purposes, obviously—I avert my eyes to keep from crossing the line into perverted territory, no matter how tempting that may be with him subconsciously snuggling closer and closer to me and all of his muscled perfection on display.
Before I can go all creeper on him and think about what else might be perfect on his body I move on to the next guy.
The next guy happens to be just as beautiful in his own right, though he seems more rugged in a way. He also has longer hair, though this guy’s is cut off at the shoulders and wavy rather than long and sleek like the first man. His thick, long, dark lashes lay fanned out against the high point of his cheeks as he sleeps and I can only imagine how amazing they’ll be when framing his open eyes—I wonder what color they’ll be.
He’s bulkier than the others as well but it’s fitting, as if he’s spent his lifetime working and building things out in the bright sunshine and developed a strong, deeply tan physique because of it. If he didn’t appear to be close to me in age, I’d even go as far to say that he looks like he’d be responsible for the building of all of the furnishings I’ve found up to this point. A niggling in the back of my brain hones in on that thought, but I dismiss it just as quickly as it comes because there’s just no way… right?
Looking beyond, tall, dark, and Hulked out there’s a man whose face I cannot see, thanks to the multitude of long braids hiding it from me. The smattering of bone-white beads weaved into the delicate strands stand out against the midnight black of his hair. With nearly all of his deliciously dark brown skin on display, I can see that it’s also completely unmarred and sculpted in a way that doesn’t scream gym rat, rather hard worker just as that of his friends and it makes me wonder if I’m now just ogling these guys or if I really am looking for any real issues that require my attention.
Even if they did need medical attention, I’m not trained and with what we’ve been through, things could be far more extensive than simply putting some ointment and a band-aid on an owie like they’re five year old’s with a scraped knee. At this point I’m just getting turned on by a group of unconscious men, which makes me feel gross, like a predator or some shit and I’ve only looked over three of the five men in this snuggle bug pile.
Goosebumps prickle my flesh and I grow disgusted with myself, even though I know it’s natural to find men attractive. But to blatantly stare at them like they’re objects of beauty or study them like one of the most precious buried treasures I’ve ever found feels… I don’t know, just wrong. These men don’t know me and I don’t know them, even if they do elicit some kind of feeling, and it’s not okay to take advantage of their sleeping state of being.
With that thought, I decide to lay back down and close my eyes, consequences be damned. I know I should be trying to find my way out of here, or at least start looking for my backpack to get my phone and figure out the time, but for the moment I feel safe and instead of heatedly looking at all of these men’s skin on display, I’d really rather wait until they’re awake and have a real conversation with me before I make any moves to go back home. I have questions and I really hope they have answers.
So, with my mind made up, I settle back into a wonderfully peaceful sleep where I dream of six men who all love and care for me with all that they are. I just wish I knew why the sixth man was the one I’ve avoided all these months. He’s only been my nightmare up until now, so why does my heart wish for him to be more, to be better… to bemine.
Why does my heart wish for themallto be mine?
“Mmm… more,” I moan, delighting in this dream where all of my men have their hands on me, rubbing me all over. It’s complete bliss—total rapture. When they touch me, I live in a constant state of utopia and I want to stay dreaming forever and ever. So why not lean into the dream? It won’t hurt anyone.
Turning into him, I lick the salty skin of Raini’s neck before kissing and sucking my way up to nibble on his earlobe, tugging slightly on the end of his mohawk braid while wishing his hair were down so I could run my hands through the inky black tresses. He’s always been so sensitive to my touch and loves when I pull his hair.
I relish in the moan that escapes him with my tongue exploring his body as if I haven’t done it in way too long. Meanwhile Mahkah’s large hands reach around from behind me to gently squeeze my boobs, pinching the hardened buds of my nipples and zinging sparks of ecstasy straight to my core, leaving me to wonder when I became topless.
Eh, fuck it. I’m dreaming.
The contrast of his dark skin against my own tan is tantalizing. He’s so irresistible it’s killing me not to have my mouth on him as well so I moan again, urging him closer.
“Mahkah, more. Touch me,please.”
He does, moving his mouth to the sensitive place where my neck meets my shoulder, sucking hard enough to mark me as his.
The hunger I have for all of my guys is scaring me. Wasn’t it only yesterday that I had all of them? How can it feel like it’s been several lifetimes since we’ve last seen each other? My craving for them is so strong that I almost wish there were more than one of me so I could satiate my need to please them all at once, but even I know my heart well enough to know that I couldn’t possibly share them, not even with my own clone—not even Tanda, who’s pulled away from me more recently. At least, he pulls away when we’re with the others, only wanting me for himself and becoming increasingly more jealous when I show affection to any of my other men despite our many conversations about how I cannot choose.
I won’t.
Each of them have claimed a part of my soul and I belong to all of them just as much as they belong to me. I love them. I need them.
