20. Between the Lines of Desire
Between the Lines of Desire
Damian
The city hums, a slow and steady rhythm that does nothing to quiet the storm in my veins.
The milonga still lingers—her touch, her breath, the way she surrendered to the dance without hesitation.
I’ve spent years mastering control, but tonight?
Tonight, she pushed me to the edge, unraveling something in me I can’t name.
My fingers brush against delicate lace—thin, intricate, and soaked in memory.
A slow smirk tugs at my lips as I pull them out, letting the crimson fabric dangle from my fingertips.
The scent of her still clings to it, warm and faintly sweet, a reminder of just how deeply I got under her skin tonight.
I bring the lace closer, breathing her in, and for the first time in a long while, I don’t suppress the hunger curling low in my stomach. Nichole Beretti is a puzzle I haven’t finished solving, but one thing is certain—tonight wasn’t enough. I need more. And I won’t wait until morning to get it.
I want her perspective. I want her thoughts. I want to know if she’s as wrecked as I am.
I close my eyes, settling into the seat, gripping the lace tighter as anticipation courses through me.
Tonight, I won’t just find her in the dream.
Tonight, I’ll make sure she never forgets what it felt like to be in my arms.
Real Nichole
Steam clings to my skin, the heat from the shower still lingering as I step into my bedroom. My limbs feel loose, languid, completely spent. The night still lingers in my veins—the dance, the way his hands felt on me, the way his eyes held me captive.
I sigh, rubbing the towel through my damp hair, letting it fall in waves around my shoulders as I approach the mirror. My reflection stares back, flushed, glowing. The remnants of the evening are written all over me.
I tilt my head, dragging my fingers lightly over my collarbone, down the curve of my neck, my pulse still a little too fast.
I can still feel him.
My eyes flutter shut, and for a moment, I imagine it’s his hands instead of mine.
Damian—his touch deliberate, his fingers tracing the same path, skimming my skin, owning every inch of me. I exhale sharply as the memory of his body against mine resurfaces, the way he held me at the milonga, how seamlessly we fit together, how right it felt.
My breath catches, and a devilish smirk tugs at my lips.
I shake my head, forcing myself to snap out of it. What the hell is wrong with me?
With a quiet laugh, I untie the sash of my robe, letting it slide off my shoulders, pooling at my feet. No more distractions.
I slip into bed, the cool sheets kissing my skin as I sink into the mattress. Comfortable. Warm. Completely at ease.
But my mind still refuses to settle.
Damian.
His name lingers in my thoughts as my eyes grow heavy, my body drifting, surrendering.
Then, sleep takes me.
Dream: Damian
I barely take a step into the mansion before Nichole is on me, yanking me forward as our mouths collide in a feverish, open-mouthed kiss.
My hands find her hips, dragging her into me, feeling the way she shudders, the way her breath hitches.
The hunger between us is an uncontrollable force—urgent, raw, all-consuming.
I spin her, slamming her back against the wall, desperate to feel more. She gasps, arching into me, and in the dim candlelight, her pupils are blown wide with need.
Her hands tear at my shirt, buttons flying, fabric ripping—neither of us care. My jacket hits the floor, her fingers already working at my belt, pulling, yanking, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. My hands slide up her thighs, beneath the red dress. No panties. Of course…I already had them.
I fist the dress, gripping it tightly.
“Off…Now,” I growl against her lips.
Nichole lets out a wicked, breathless laugh. “Make me.”
I do.
With a swift, sharp motion, I rip the dress down the middle, tearing it apart like it’s nothing but a barrier between us. The delicate straps snap, the silk pooling around her ankles, leaving her in naked and moist…
Real Nichole
A sensation jolts through me like a shockwave.
I shift in bed, my breaths uneven as something warm and intoxicating wraps around my mind, my body. I see flickers of him—Damian rips the dress off my body in one fluid motion.
A soft, unconscious sigh escapes me as my own hands move, sliding against the sheets, then lower, along my bare thigh.
I’m barely aware of it. Barely awake. But the dream—it pulls me deeper.
Dream: Damian
…I press my body against hers, pinning her between the wall and everything I feel.
Nichole’s nails scrape along my shoulders, down my back. My name leaves her lips in a breathless moan—
Damian.
Her hands are everywhere now—grasping, pulling, desperate. My grip tightens as I hoist her up, her legs wrapping around my waist, her body flush against mine.
I carry her to the bed, dropping her onto the sheets, following her down, covering her with my body. She gasps as my mouth finds her pulse, my teeth scraping against sensitive skin.
My dick is harder than it has ever as I thrust into her wet pussy…
Real Nichole
I arch my back with the sudden sensation. A soft sound slips from my lips, my body shifting against the sheets, liquid fire curling low in my stomach.
My hand moves lower…
His hands gripping my hips, his mouth at my throat, the fire in his eyes consuming me whole as he thrusts harder.
My hand moves lower…
He’s so deep, stroking my pussy relentless.
My finger start circling my moist pussy lips as my clit hardens…
I barely register it, lost somewhere between sleep and something far more dangerous.
More.
“Say my name,” he growls into my ear. I grab his ass with both hands, slamming him into body.
I feel the word in my bones. It doesn’t matter if it’s the dream or reality.
I can’t stop the word from coming out.
“Damian,” I moans in a breathless whisper.
My fingers rubbing my clit like its starting a fire…
Dream: Damian
She trembles beneath me, her nails digging into my ass as she meets my thrusts, her hips rising with need..
“Yes, Damian. Harder,”she pleads.
I obliged, driving into her with abandon, our bodies slapping together in a primal rhythm.
A sound like thunder filled the room as our bodies collide over and over, mingling with sweats and heavy moans.
I felt her inner walls tighten around me, her body tensing.
I thrust harder, faster, driving her over the edge…
“I’m cumming,” I growl as the pressure bubbles up in my nuts…
Real Nichole
A sharp inhale… A shaky gasp…
My thighs tense, tighten.
Heat coils inside me, building…
The pleasure is overwhelming...
Then a cry tears from my lips as my fingers rub my clit faster…
Suddenly I jerk awake. My eyes wide and wild.
My body trembles, heat still thumping through my veins, breaths shallow and uneven. I stare at the ceiling, my pulse thundering like I still feel him inside of me.
It wasn't just a dream.
I felt every stroke, every thrust.
I gaze down between my legs at the soaked sheets…The evidence is as clear as day.
And this was the first dream I ever had in my life.
Dream: Damian
The world is still spinning. Not from exhaustion. Not from release. But from her.
Nichole is sprawled against me, her bare skin warm, her breath steadying. The firelight flickers over her curves, tracing every place my hands have been, every place I’ll touch again.
For a long moment, neither of us speak. We don’t need to.
Then, she shifts, stretching like a satisfied cat before turning her face toward mine. A lazy, sated smile plays on her lips, and the sight alone makes my blood stir again.
“That,” she breathes, her voice like silk, “was… something else.”
I chuckle, dragging my fingers down the curve of her spine. “That’s one way to put it.”
She tilts her head, her eyes searching mine. “You surprised me tonight. Not just at the milonga, but here.”
I smirk. “I like keeping you on your toes.”
Her expression softens, something flickering behind her gaze—something deeper than satisfaction. A thought she’s been holding onto.
“Nichole,” I murmur, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “What is it?”
She hesitates, just for a second, then exhales.
“I felt her,” she whispers.
I frown slightly. “Who?”
She swallows, her fingers grazing over my chest, as if grounding herself. When she looks up, her eyes hold certainty.
“Real Nichole.”
The words hit me like a strike of lightning. My muscles tense slightly, my mind already turning. “What do you mean?”
She takes a slow breath, her gaze never wavering. “For the first time in my life… I dreamed.”
A pause. A heartbeat of silence.
“I was there,” she continues, voice steady. “I wasn’t just watching—I was part of her. While we were making love, she was… there, too.”
A strange feeling coils in my chest—a mix of realization and something dangerously close to awe.
“You’re saying,” I murmur, trying to wrap my mind around it, “that I was with both of you?”
“Yes.” Her fingers trail over my collarbone, tracing absent patterns as she speaks. “She felt everything. She lived it. And I think… I think she’s starting to wake up.”
I let that sink in. The idea of it—of touching her, of having her, in a way that’s beyond anything I’ve ever experienced—it’s intoxicating.
But there’s more to this. I can see it in her eyes.
“How did that happen?” I ask carefully.
Nichole’s expression turns thoughtful, her lips pressing together before she speaks again. “Her dissociative amnesia—it comes from something buried deep. A fear she’s carried for years. Something so painful that her mind locked it away.”
I don’t move, don’t even breathe.
“But,” she continues, her voice softer now, “she’s always been that way. Never trusting anyone. Never letting anyone in. Except her father… her uncle.” She swallows, meeting my gaze. “Until now.”
A quiet beat passes.
“You,” she murmurs, “are changing that.”
I stare at her, my chest tightening.
“She’s starting to trust you, Damian,” she whispers. “And because of that, she’s opening up. The fear is slowly fading. And tonight… that’s why she dreamed.”
The weight of her words crashes over me, slow and steady, sinking into my bones.
“She’s coming back,” I say, more to myself than to her.
Nichole nods. “Yes. And the more her fear disappears, the more she’ll remember. And when she dreams again… she’ll be able to control what she sees.”
Silence stretches between us, thick, electric.
This changes everything.
I tighten my grip on her, tilting her chin up so she can’t look away. “So now we’re connected,” I murmur.
Her lips part, a slow smile curving them. “Yes.”
A slow exhale leaves me, something dark and possessive curling deep in my gut. She’s mine.
All of her.
Even the parts of her that haven’t surfaced yet.
I press my forehead against hers, letting the weight of it settle.
Then I smirk. “Think she’ll dream of me again?”
Nichole laughs softly, brushing her lips against mine. “Oh, I don’t think she has a choice.”