Blyss (The Blyss Trilogy 1)

I pretend he’s here now, hovering over me, his hard muscles working, flexing, and rubbing against my body. I can hear his deep moans, and I can feel his tongue as it slides over mine with its heated skill. I lick my bottom lip slowly, responding to my thoughts. He tastes me hungrily, exploring every inch of my mouth, and my tongue remembers the pattern of his kiss. I feel his muscular chest as it rests against mine, and his breathing has accelerated, indicating he’s as turned on as I am.

My back arches, my breasts seeking the palms of his hands, and I recall how hot his passion was, and the way he pinched and pulled at my nipples. My stomach dips as I continue to relive yesterday’s intense exchange. Oh, sweet mother of Moses. I can feel his thick, swollen cock and how it nestled perfectly in the opening of my pussy, and I remember the way my inner walls practically reached for his dick behind the rough fabric of his jeans as he pressed into me, rubbing and grinding against my slick core. I can only imagine what the head of his penis would feel like nestled just inches inside me as he slowly rocks himself in and out, stretching me, getting ready to breach my barrier.

I feel him pinching my nipple hard as he whispers into my mouth between heated kisses, telling me to ride his cock, take my pleasure, and give into my body. I envision his cock driving into me, entering and retreating as his balls slap against my ass. I can feel the walls of my pussy being stretched wide as he fills me to the brim. I want to feel that unfamiliar pull low in my groin again, warning me of my impending orgasm.

I have the insane urge to slip my fingers inside my pajama bottoms and into my wet core, something I’ve never done before. Oh, the things I would give for another taste of him and the feel of his hands roaming over my body. The way he made my body respond to his was definitely brand new to me. I never felt those sensations…or those emotions before. I let out a long, throaty groan of frustration into the silent room.

The hole I’m digging for myself is getting deeper. If I don’t stop and pull myself out of this absurd daydream, I’ll end up putting on a show. I reluctantly heave my achingly-aroused body up from where I’ve melted into the sofa and sit on the edge of the cushion. My feet bounce nervously as I try shaking off the carnal thoughts. I’m beginning to feel edgy, almost panicky, my body crying out desperately for a release. I can’t think straight, and it’s mocking my ability to rationalize. Because, shit, who thinks of begging and playing dead for a necrophiliac? That’s just beyond repulsive. I’ll definitely need a psychiatrist after this.

My arms and legs start to slightly tremor against my will. I am up against an evil and undefeated monstrous power that’s making my hormones fly faster than a bat out of Hell, and I feel completely out of control. I’d say they finally found the right fucking dose. If this is how they wanted me to feel, then by George, I think they’ve got it! Travis asked him to double the dose, and I think after our knockdown, drag-out fight, Jared quadrupled it instead.

What’s even crazier is I don’t seem petrified at the thought of losing my virginity and being violated at the moment. I frown and lower my face into the palm of my hands. The fact I don’t seem affected by the act of someone sexually pillaging my body should really bother me. It’s these damn drugs; they have me out of my mind. It’s obvious I’m not going to get rescued in time; something is bound to happen sooner or later, whether I want it to or not, and a very dark part of me doesn’t mind if it’s Travis. How sick is that—to want my captor, especially after all the things Jared revealed about him yesterday?

Suddenly, I realize all too late I’ve just willingly cheated on Adam in my very own mind. A huge sense of guilt washes over me. How could I? It was one thing when Travis was on top of me, holding me down and grinding into me while I couldn’t get away. I reluctantly gave in; I admit it, but here I sit, alone, fantasizing about another man taking me as I beg for it. I smack myself on the forehead hard enough that the sound echoes in the small room. I’ve already let the master manipulator, Travis, strategically place himself in front of Adam. I’m such a two-timing skank. At this point, I have to ask myself, Just how much do I love Adam? I feel like such a bitch for making Adam wait so long before we could make love, and yet, in a matter of three days, I’m all too ready to spread ‘em wide for the next passerby.