Chapter 3 #3
Phantom hands, so much rougher than my own, caress my skin with a reverence that borders on possessive.
They seem to know exactly where to touch, where to tease, sending delicious shivers racing down my spine.
Soft whispers, like a murmuring breeze, fill my ears with indecipherable words laced with an aching longing that mirrors the yearning within my own heart.
The touch becomes more insistent, sliding under the sweat-drenched blankets to where my naked body lies underneath.
Fingers, hot like flames, dance along the curves of my waist, slipping beneath my thighs with clear intent.
A thumb, firm and deliberate, strokes between my folds, igniting a fire that spreads through my core with dizzying intensity.
“You’re so wet for me, such a good Omega.”
I arch into the touch, surrendering to the building arousal that threatens to consume me. The whispers grow louder, their words becoming clear as promises of possession and eternity are breathed against my skin. Promises that would thrill me if I believed they were real.
Desire twists deep in my belly and heat spreads like wildfire against my skin. Even through senses dulled with sleep, I feel myself responding to the deliberate friction.
A touch that is not at all tentative moves up my body, lingering at the bend of my waist before teasing at my hardened nipples. I sink deeper into pleasurable haze, back arching to chase more of that figment pressure. It feels too good for me to question the nature of the phantasm.
“This is exactly how it should be. You, warming my bed, always ready to be split open on my cock like the needy girl you are.”
Silk sheets slide against my skin as I roll onto my stomach, fabric cool against my overheated flesh. The pressure on the engorged flesh just above my entrance doesn’t cease. Flashes of color break through the white haze of my dreamscape like rainbow-colored lightning.
“Fuck, Maya. Just like that.”
It’s the painful breach of penetration that does it.
I jolt awake with a gasp, my eyes flying open to the dim light of Logan’s bedroom. This isn’t a dream. The thrusting weight bending my back is real. The fingers circling my clit are real. The hard length pushing inside me is very real.
Logan. Taking me in my sleep.
He doesn’t notice the sudden tension in my body as I come awake, too lost in his own pleasure.
“The bond doesn’t matter. You know who you belong to,” he murmurs against my neck, his breath hot against my skin. “Eventually, I’ll get you to admit it.”
My first instinct is to fight him off — to claw, to bite, to scream — knowing that his superior strength makes any physical resistance pointless on my part.
But my treacherous body is already responding, already slick and ready for him.
His heart pounds where his chest presses against my back, matching the steady beat of the distant bond between us.
Every sensation is amplified without the hazy specter of sleep.
My thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm in the face of overwhelming pleasure.
I open my mouth to tell him to stop, but all that comes out is a breathy moan, so weak and soft that it’s barely audible over the loud squeak of the mattress.
Logan rolls his hips forward, sinking deeper inside me. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to prevent a louder groan from escaping my lips. His hands stroke over every inch of my skin he can reach, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
“You try so hard to fight it, but look how soaked this amazing pussy is for me. Your mouth says no, but your body is begging for more.” He gives a particularly hard thrust that makes me swallow back a gasp.
“One day you’ll understand. This is where you were always meant to be. Look how much you want this.”
I hate that he is at least partly right. Almost as much as I hate how good this feels.
Slick squelches between our flesh as he bottoms out and grinds inside me. I don’t need to see it to know that fluid is dripping down my thighs. My inner walls clench around the hard length inside me, hips shifting instinctively to push back against his.
I hate how the bond between us thrums with pleasure, feeding into a cycle I can’t break.
“Such a perfect girl,” Logan whispers, his lips trailing along the shell of my ear. “So responsive. So wet for me.”
His praise shouldn’t affect me, but it does. Something primal inside me preens at his words, desperate for validation even as my conscious mind rebels against it.
My climax is imminent and inevitable.
I squeeze my eyes shut, easy to do when I’m still pretending to be asleep, tears of frustration and unwanted pleasure leaking from the corners. I can’t fight him—not physically, not with the bond, not with my body betraying me at every turn.
Logan’s pace increases, his breathing growing ragged against my neck. “You know who you belong to,” he growls. “Bond or no bond, technicalities don’t matter. You’re mine.”
His fingers return to my clit, circling with maddening precision. The pressure builds inside me, a tidal wave I can’t hold back.
“That’s it,” he coaxes. “Let go for me. Show me how good I make you feel.”
I try to resist, to deny him this victory, but it’s futile. The orgasm crashes over me without warning, intense and all-consuming. My body convulses around him, drawing him deeper, milking him for everything he has.
The pleasure is exquisite and horrible all at once. I’ve never felt anything so intense, so overwhelming. And I hate myself for it. Hate that my body can betray me so completely. Hate that I can find pleasure in something I never consented to.
Logan’s movements grow erratic, his grip on my hip tightening to the point of pain. “Fuck, Maya,” he pants. “You feel so good. So perfect. Made for me.”
Anger rises in me like a tide, impotent rage made even more intolerable by my inability to hurt him in the way he has hurt me.
I feel him swell inside me, knowing he’s close to his own release. A sudden, vindictive impulse seizes me. If he can use my body against me, I can use his ego against him.
As he teeters on the edge, I arch my back and moan — loud and theatrical.
“Cillian,” I cry out, making sure his name is clear on my lips. “Oh god, Cillian!”
Logan freezes behind me, his entire body going rigid. The bond between us pulses with shock, then rage, white-hot and blinding.
He flips me over hard enough to make my head flop hard on my neck.
I sense Logan’s face hovering inches from mine, and I can only imagine the golden eyes that must be burning with fury. His grip tightens on my shoulders with bruising force.
“What did you just say?” he hisses, voice low and dangerous.
I keep my eyes closed, body limp, and my breathing deliberately slow and even. Hopefully, the perfect picture of someone still deep in sleep.
“Maya.” He shakes me roughly. “I know you’re awake.”
I keep my face slack, my muscles relaxed despite the storm of emotions raging inside me. My heart hammers against my ribs, but I focus on maintaining the steady rhythm of my breathing. In. Out. In. Out.
Logan releases one of my wrists to grab my chin, forcing my face toward his. “Open your eyes.”
I don’t. Instead, I let out a soft, sleepy murmur and turn my head slightly, as if disturbed but not awakened.
“Goddammit, Maya.” His weight shifts off me, the mattress dipping as he moves to sit on the edge of the bed. “I know what you’re doing.”
I continue my charade, letting out a gentle snore for good measure.
His hand slams down next to my head, making the mattress bounce. I still don’t so much as flinch.
The bond between us pulses with his anger, hot and caustic. I can feel his emotions battering against my consciousness—rage, humiliation, and underneath it all, a sliver of hurt that I refuse to acknowledge.
“Fuck this,” he mutters, standing abruptly.
I hear him moving around the room, the rustle of clothing as he dresses, his footsteps heavy with anger.
“Fuck!” he bites out, the word sharp and vicious in the quiet room.
The door slams behind him with enough force to rattle the frame, the sound reverberating through the empty room like a thunderclap.
Only then do I allow myself to open my eyes, staring at the ceiling as I attempt to keep my satisfaction from being felt through the bond. I meditate on the emptiness that has become the only safe place in my mind.
Tears burn. but I refuse to let them fall.
A hollow victory is still better than no victory at all.