“How long does that usually take?”
Asher hesitates. “For some, it can take decades. Others, days.”
“How long did it take you?”
“Me?” He smirks. “It took me a couple of years, but I didn’t have anyone to help me like you do. You have me.”
Anticipating or perhaps knowing what I want to ask next, why he didn’t have anyone to help him, he stops me by telling me to, “Look into my eyes, but don’t look too closely. You need to see without focusing all of your attention.”
Easier said than done.
I try several times to see without looking too close, but without any other distractions I keep falling face-first into the wells of his eyes. Searching for a bottom when there is no bottom. Only new galaxies I haven’t yet explored.
After the tenth try, I start to grow irritated with myself
After the twentieth, I’m done trying.
“This is impossible,” I growl then blink at the rumbling sound of my own words.
That’s new…
Asher tips his head back and laughs. “It will come with time.”
When I scowl at him, he laughs some more. Then he uses his hold on my ass to pull my thighs into his hips, grinding me against his stiffening cock. “If you want, we can take a break.”
I gasp when his shaft rubs and drags across my clit. My thighs tightening around him and my irritation suddenly forgotten.
Asher grins mischievously. “After all, you have an eternity to master this. There is no need to hurry…”
Head dipping down, his mouth captures my lips and he kisses me deeply before murmuring, “Not when we could be practicing better things.”
Twenty-Three
Chloe
Asher’s idea of practicing better things turns out to be wringing every ounce of pleasure he can out of my poor body.
His hands and mouth explore me, mapping me out like new terrain. Discovering places that make me moan, squirm, and clutch at him without abandon. No part of me is seemingly forbidden or sacred. Nothing is off limits or taboo. He explores me from the inside out, learning every spot that makes me whimper his name.
And just when I think he’s discovered all my weaknesses, he finds a new one. Using the bond between us against me.
There can be no lies or secrets when all he has to do is look inside me to know what I’m feeling. Even when his fingers delve into that forbidden place between my asscheeks, filling me up when he finally stuffs me with his cock…
He knows how much I like it. How much I like being so full of him, even if I don’t want to admit it.
By the time he finally takes mercy on me and tucks me close to his chest, I’m beyond tired. My eyes slamming shut the second the sun begins to rise in the eastern horizon.
I welcome sleep, desperate for rest.
But my dreams have other ideas.
They start off sweet and innocent enough. At first, it’s mostly Asher talking to me. His words full of longing, love, and hope. He has so much hope for the future, all hinging on me…
Then he’s begging me to wake up.
I feel his fear of losing me. His worries that he did something wrong. His terror that I’m somehow different, and he doesn’t know if it’s good or bad.
Though his fear and terror grow and grow, he introduces me to several others. Others that he thinks of as his children. Being surrounded by them, they ease some of his anxiety, but it’s only temporary.
Then the true horror begins.
The pictures that fill my dream become dark and violent.
I see myself waking up and attacking Asher in a murderous rage. Thankfully he’s strong enough to restrain me. Otherwise, I would have killed him.
If he had been weaker, I would have bathed triumphantly in his blood.
I would have eaten his heart as a trophy of conquest.
Then there is red… so much red. I’m launching myself at a man and ripping his neck open. Blood sprays all over my face before I latch my mouth on his throat.
I gulp greedily, draining him dry.
But my stomach still pangs with hunger.
Another helpless human is pushed my way and I attack him. Draining him until my thirst is gone.
Once my hunger is sated, I attack Asher again, but for a different reason. I attack him to mate with him.
Having proven his power and strength, he’s worthy to be the father of my children.
My dream twists between sex and death.
I kill, I murder innocent humans, then I attack Asher. Forcing him to fuck me until I pass out.
And it goes on for days.
Killing, eating, then fucking until I can’t keep my eyes open
I know I should be ashamed of my actions.
I should be sick and repulsed by what I did. What I’ve become.
But I’m not.
If anything, the longer the dream goes on, the more I begin to remember the thirst.