Page 7 of Precipitous Nightmare's Valentine Dream

“Fuck, woman, you’re going to make me come if you keep that up.” He slowed his thrusts, gripping her hips so tight she was certain there would be bruises. Those glowing blood-red eyes met hers as his cock impaled her, as his solid body pinned her to the wall. The corner of his lip turned up in a wicked smirk. “Don’t want to finish without you.”

Oh. Fucking. Hell.

Luminous wrapped her fingers in a death grip around those thick, smooth horns and begged him to do his worst.

Chapter 6

Woohoo!

Precipitous Nightmare

Precipitous had not expected such unbridled enthusiasm from this little Dream. All his presumptions had flown into the aether as soon as she’d launched herself at him and begun to tear off his clothing.

Not that he minded. There were few creatures he could truly let loose with. In the hierarchy of Nightmare, his kind held a position of both strength and danger that few others achieved. Everyone else was breakable. Weak. There was nothing weak about this Dream.

She was soft. Supple. Flexible. But not weak.

“Fuck me like I’m every Dream you wish you could destroy,” she’d demanded. And so Precipitous did.

His form wavered between man and monster, but her sharp cries encouraged his darkest aspects to surge to the surface. Giving up on control, he let his horns emerge to their full height. The little Dream gripped them with obvious delight, and the sensation of her delicate fingertips exploring those sleek surfaces almost brought him to climax with no further stimulation.

Precipitous concentrated as he slammed into her. She clenched her inner walls and tried to scream. Elongated fingers encircled her slim neck as his tongue pushed between her lips and down her throat, preventing the sound from emerging. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gagged at the invasion, but her eager eyes urged him onward and she maintained her solid grip on his horns.

The Dream bit down hard, drawing blood from his tongue, and Precipitous chuckled. But as he drew away, he sucked in her plump bottom lip, leaving her gasping.

Her sweat-slickened breasts pressed against his chest, and the Dream woman tilted her hips up to allow him deeper access. She gave his horns a smooth downward stroke, then clenched at his hair, his scalp. Those tiny claws pierced his skin with every thrust, and slim streams of blood dripped down his brow. He darted out one side of his forked tongue to taste it, to taste them both, together.

The scent and flavor of his own blood mingling with hers eroded his control further. Precipitous felt the skin of his cock twist and stretch inside her, the sharp spikes hovering just below the surface emerging to pierce her inner walls, to score deep, painful tracks with every slow, pulsing stroke. Blood and this woman’s natural fluids mingled to create an impossibly slick channel for Precipitous to plunder.

For a moment, he thought he should, perhaps, reign in his basest impulses. That this was too much for her. That he was too much. Then she slammed every one of those little nails into his scalp at once and shouted, “Oh fucking hell! Break me, Nightmare Daddy! Woohoo!”

Precipitous was more than happy to oblige. He angled his malleable cock to slide against that soft spongy spot inside her, focused on creating a rolling wave of pressure there.

His little Dream keened, releasing a sound so sharp and loud that she’d have woken every mortal in the hotel had their joint magic not been keeping everyone soundly stuck in the Dual Realms.

Precipitous felt the moment her climax began. Her keening shifted to desperate gasps, and the feel of her clenching and unclenching around his cock tipped him over the ledge where he’d been balanced so precariously. His world exploded at the sounds, at the sensations, and he let himself fall with his Dream. Their cries filled the room, a cacophony of growling thunder and pealing bells, as he emptied into her, releasing wave after wave to fill her hot, demanding pussy.

As they spiraled back to reality, Precipitous retracted his spikes and gently pulled free from his not-so-delicate Dream to set her standing.She stumbled on trembling legs, grabbing his arm for support.He caught her, held her steady.

For one oddly intimate moment, they stood there staring at each other. Her big golden eyes went wide, and she flushed at the evidence of her weakness. Perhaps she expected him to judge her, to mock her for her stumble.

But Precipitous had no desire to mock or censure. He might, perhaps, have been a bit in awe of this strange, sexy, enthusiastically violent little Dream.

He brushed a sweat-damp strand of soft, silvery hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She looked beautiful like this, satiated and uncertain. Precipitous wanted to wrap her up and care for her. Wanted to spend the rest of this unexpectedly enjoyable night exploring every inch of that soft skin. Wanted to bring those uncontrolled cries forth from her lips again. Perhaps slightly less violently for their next attempt.

Or not.

Whatever she wanted.

“I should go,” she whispered, then gathered herself together and pulled free from his grasp.Her entire demeanor shifted, startling Precipitous from his musings.

“Right,” she said, pulling from the Dream threads of sleeping mortals in the hotel below to create a gossamer gown of pink satin and tulle. The blood, sweat, and fluids coating her skin dissipated into mist. “That was nice.”

Nice? Truly? The vague insult hung heavy between them, but she pretended not to notice.

“Thanks for the ride. Gotta go now.”

“Thanks for the… what?”

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