Chapter 6
Six
Hallie
I wake the next morning with an ache between my legs. But not from my newfound near-constant state of arousal. It’s more real, more visceral. It feels like it’s from being used.
But that doesn’t make any sense. I think about the dream I had. A hazy, delirious dream that has me reeling with pleasure.
A man, just like the one from my book, came into my apartment and fucked me just like I’d been fantasizing about. I can’t remember his face, but I remember the way he made me feel. Wanted. No, needed. It felt like he was pleasing me and claiming me all at once. I’d never had a dream like that before.
Surely, that’s all it was. A dream. But a part of me isn’t sure.
I look around me and notice nothing out of place. My window is closed. My bed has no imprint from another body laying next to me. My pale, freckled thighs have no finger-shaped bruises.
But my pussy feels used. Could it have been me? Could I have just been too rough with myself in some dream-state?
I try to remember what happened. Admittedly, taking a sleeping pill and drinking an entire bottle of wine was not the smartest idea. I’m normally much more responsible. But between the stress of Alex’s investigation into Teddy’s death, and my hormones raging, I’d just wanted to relax and enjoy my Friday night.
And I did.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the remnants of the dream that cling to my consciousness like cobwebs. The rational part of my brain insists it was just a fantasy, a manifestation of my pent-up desires and the intoxicating influence of the book. But the ache between my thighs tells a different story, one that sends a shiver of both fear and exhilaration down my spine.
It has to be my mind playing tricks on me.
But a small part of me can’t help wanting more. Wanting it to be real.