Chapter 14 Reverie
REVERIE
This can’t be happening.
This can’t be happening.
This literally cannot be fucking happening.
The moment I felt him harden between my legs, I chalked it up to yet another physical reaction that means absolutely nothing. Two body parts pressed together, and boom, something biological happens that neither party can control.
Just like that kiss.
But his stupid-ass ultimatum is ruining that.
“Drown, or I fuck you.”
What the fuck kind of options are those?
“How about you let me go peacefully, and we never talk about this again? In fact, let’s never see each other again, either,” I suggest shakily, casting another nervous glance over my shoulder.
Right now, I’d love nothing more than to unglue myself from his body, but I’m hanging over the edge of a pool, and the mere idea of dipping a toe into the water has me breaking out in a cold sweat.
When he threw me in last time, I felt like I was having a heart attack. And then he kissed me, and it still felt like a heart attack, but for an entirely different reason. When I ran away afterward, I spent the rest of the night fighting off that memory.
A phantom burn builds in my lungs, reminding me of that feeling when they were screaming at me for oxygen, but all I could give them was more water.
The absolute terror, the helplessness… it lingers on the outskirts of my brain, threatening to drag me back into it, only prompting me to tighten my hold on Dread.
He’s not a safe place, but right now, I cling to him like he’s my oxygen.
“There will never be peace between us, darling,” he murmurs darkly. “As long as you’re breathing, I’m in agony. If this is my fate, then we will suffer together.”
I shake my head, a shot of anger spiking in my system. I hold on to that, desperate to feel anything other than the panic sticking to my insides like wax.
“Is this the part when I plead for you to do anything else to me? Do I play into your misogyny and offer to be your maid instead? Because that’s not a respectable job, right? Should I use a toothbrush and wear a skimpy maid outfit, too, so you feel like I’m truly being humiliated?”
He scoffs. “Is that what you believe? That I want to see a woman scrubbing my floor because I think that’s below me?
Baby, I’d be happy to see you on your hands and knees for me, but don’t think I won’t be kneeling right behind you.
” He hums, the sound bordering on a groan.
“And I can assure you, that floor will be a fucking mess by the time I’m done with you. Nothing a mop won't fix, though.”
My breath hitches, his devilish tone sending a tremor skirting down my spine.
Despite my brain wanting to hit him over the head with a baseball bat, my body responds to his words with little resistance—heating, tingling, an uncomfortable feeling forming in the pit of my stomach before slowly sinking lower and lower.
My legs tighten around his hips again, though not out of fear this time. Except it presses his rock-hard length deeper against my center, eliciting a sharp throb from my clit that has my lashes fluttering with bliss. I’m so fucking lucky we're cheek to cheek so he doesn't see the stupid reaction.
“Why are you being like this?” I choke out, at a loss for words otherwise. I can't tell if it's because of the terror, shock, or the insistent pulsing between my legs.
“Because you fucking bore me,” he snaps, his voice darkening, only to lighten into a mocking lilt as he says, “but I’ve discovered I might enjoy all the different ways I can make you scream.” He hums again, sounding pleased. “There’s so much more I can do to you.”
He takes a step toward the pool, and my muscles harden into stone.
I grind my teeth, angry tears rising to the surface. He wants to fuck me to humiliate me, to gain power over me in yet another way.
“You’re fucking sick,” I spit, my lips trembling as fury bubbles in my chest. “How does this make you any different from Lionel, huh? Fucking me against my will and threatening to kill me? Sound familiar to you?”
“You wanna know the difference, darling?” he asks, a dangerous edge to his voice. “Those women didn’t deserve what happened to them.” His breath tickles my ear a moment before he whispers, “You do.”
The mix of fury, hurt, and terror creates a dangerous concoction in my chest. Like mixing sodium with water, the result is explosive. Red bleeds into my vision, and I react without thinking—without a fucking ounce of self-preservation.
I rear back and slap him across the face. Fire envelops my hand, but I’m too focused on trying to gouge out the fucker’s eyes to notice.
“Motherfu—”
He stumbles back, a hand knocking mine away. I instinctively release my legs and thrash against him. My limbs fly without direction or precision, and my world teeters, only to slam against the cement floor, the air knocking from my lungs.
He’s on top of me, kneeling as he struggles to catch my swinging hands.
“Get off me,” I bite out through gritted teeth, kicking and punching with all my might. “You. Sick. Fucker.”
As if to prove me right, he releases another laugh, displaying the full power of the wrinkles curving down from his eyes and dimples. It only pisses me off more.
“This is funny?!”
He snags my legs and forces them apart again, fitting himself back in between them. My wrists are next, and though I still wiggle fiercely beneath him, he scoops them in one hand and presses them firmly between our sternums.
I pant heavily, huffing with ire and exhaustion, but I continue to push at him anyway, simply because if I stop fighting, I have nothing else.
“If this was supposed to change my mind, I fear you’ve only convinced me more,” he says, a little breathless himself.
Growling, I gather saliva on my tongue, but he clocks it immediately and lets out a dark chuckle.
“If you're going to spit at me, aim for my mouth so I can taste it,” he says, the words coming out as a deep rumble.
I narrow my eyes, teeming with the urge to do it just to test him, but I let it slide back down my throat and take a different route instead.
“Yeah?” I challenge breathlessly, my tone seductive but mocking. “You'll swallow for me like a good boy?”
A demonic growl tears from his chest as he straightens long enough to shove me farther up until the floor beneath my head disappears. It falls back over the side of the pool, the water only an inch from the top of my skull.
I gasp sharply, my heart skipping a beat before plunging into a pit of terror.
My legs snap around his waist again, as if that’s going to somehow help me, but in this position, I have little traction to gain.
He leans back down, pressing his weight into mine while I lift my head, my face stopping within an inch of his.
The angry tears dried during the struggle, but they renew now that I’m trapped and utterly helpless. However, a slight smile curves his lips, amusement and something far more daunting swirling in his eyes—elation.
I didn't think anything could be scarier than Dread’s wrath, but I was wrong. His excitement is far more terrifying.
“What’s it gonna be, darling?” he asks quietly.
I let out a sound of pure frustration, attempting one last time to push at him.
But it’s useless.
My neck is aching from keeping it lifted, but I’d rather suffocate beneath Dread's behemoth of a body than underwater.
His gaze travels over the planes of my face, his lips parting as he explores my features while journeying down to my mouth. By the time it makes its way back up to mine, I’m staring into the eyes of a starving beast.
“Dread—”
“Drown, or I fuck you,” he repeats with finality.
I make the mistake of turning my head to find the light blue abyss a few inches beneath me. My heart flies into my throat.
I swear, it’s fucking taunting me, promising to invade my insides until it fills every inch. And based on the size of his dick pressed between my thighs, he would do the same.
I quickly face forward again, struggling to draw in a breath.
I hate him, I hate him, I hate him so much.
“Fine,” I bite out, attempting to inhale, but I still can’t get my lungs to work. After the night I’ve had, I’m surprised they’re still functioning at all. I stare into his glittering eyes, injecting every bit of bravado into my voice as I seal my fate. “I’ll fuck you.”
“Yeah?” he asks wickedly, running his lips along my cheek, pausing just before they reach mine. “Do I need to give you a taste of your other option first? I’d hate to release you just for you to run. I can’t promise I’ll be so forgiving once I catch you.”
Dammit.
That’s exactly what I hoped to do.
As much as I loathe to admit it, if there’s one thing Dread knows very well, it’s me. I’ve been fighting with him for four years now, and, unfortunately for him, I know him very well, too.
Nothing I do surprises him anymore. He’s the type of person who absorbs the world around him like a fucking sponge. Countless times, I've noticed him watching me with vulture eyes.
“I said I’ll fuck you,” I snap, glowering at him.
He hums, taking his time studying me before dropping his stare to my mouth again, like he can’t seem to help himself.
I hold my breath, waiting for him to kiss me. His eyes linger for a few moments, but when he lifts them back up to mine, a small, amused smile quirks his lips. Then, he pushes off me and stands, allowing me to take a breath for what feels like the first time in several long minutes.
I scramble away from the edge of the pool, quickly standing and putting several feet of distance between me and the water. My chest loosens with each inch, and the relief of it is almost dizzying.
But when I turn my attention to Dread, the relief dissipates like smoke, and his namesake fills my gut instead.