I didn’t want it.
But…I couldn’t fight it.
I tore at the tie around my neck.
Tie?
Glancing down, I gasped.
What the—
I wore…a restaurant uniform.
White shirt, blue tie, and grey skirt. Black high-heels, white knee-high socks, and a cute fishtail braid completed my café worker look.
Fear quickened my heart rate, tangling with my deranged lust.
What sort of fantasy had I stepped into?
Looking back at the curb, I debated running and knocking on all the doors. To try to find someone who could help me. Someone who I could tell my true name and had the power to pull me from this virtual program and save me from molestation.
But if I did that, I would provide them with a show.
A one-woman peepshow where all my inhibitions faded and the only thing that mattered was bliss. I wouldn’t care if they watched. I’d probably invite husbands to join me. I’d become someone I despised, all because I couldn’t stop the licking, hissing, snarling need in my blood.
I yanked at my hair.
No!
I don’t have to give in.
I don’t!
Even as I cursed my weakness, I pressed my thighs tighter, adding friction to my throbbing clit. My breasts ached beneath my shirt. I fidgeted and fumbled, desperate to remove my clothes but still sane enough to fight.
I probably had another minute before I’d be reduced to masturbating on this doorstep.
Please!
I crumpled over, hugging my traitorous body as the door swooped open.
Instinct ordered me to move away.
I tripped backward, swallowing a groan at the delicious whisper of clothes over sensitive skin.
I straddled the border of climaxing and being severely tormented by a release that refused to shatter. I gasped as sweat ran down my spine, my body in the throes of passion when doing something as simple as standing on a stoop.
Feet filled my vision.
Bare, masculine feet that belonged to long legs encased in faded jeans. Wrapping my arms tight around my roiling belly, I dared look up.
My gaze locked on the face of a roguishly handsome man in his early forties. Trimmed dark hair swept off a handsome face. Lips full but still uniquely male and piercing blue eyes.
Sea eyes.
Sully eyes.
My heart flopped and suffocated, not knowing if it wanted to pump with passion or die with hate. I could still feel his tongue between my legs. Still feel my wet shame on my inner thigh.
Another smear had joined the wetness Sully had given me.
Soon, I would be drenched thanks to a drug that attacked my brain, twisting me from complex human into mindless animal.
Tears sprang to my eyes as my mind played a highlight reel of Sully on his knees before me, his head between my spread legs, his tongue diving inside me.
God.
He’d successfully made me come without elixir.
He’d been the first male to do that.
In our five-month relationship, Scott had never made me come. I’d had to help myself along, if I’d felt inclined, while we’d slept together.
But Sully…it’d taken him mere minutes. He’d driven his fingers and tongue deep inside me until I—
I buckled as a repeat orgasm spindled and threatened to burst me apart.
Yes.
No.
Yes—
“Hello.” The man smiled, interrupting my release, freezing me with mortification.
For a blissful minute, the elixir gave me a break, and I stood upright instead of hunched like a crippled thing.
His smile never slipped as his eyes ignited with matching lust. Seemed my need was contagious. We stared for a long moment, sparks crackling and desire flowing from his body to mine.
At least I wouldn’t have to self-administer my antidote.
This man would help.
He was the one I’d been sent to.
I didn’t know who he was.
I didn’t recognise him, but he would help me because I would willingly shed my clothing right here. I’d beg him to put me out of my misery if necessary.
He backed into his house with a shadowy stare, opening his arm in invitation. “Come in. You must be hot out there.” His body moved with elegance, his legs long and torso broad with muscle.
His invitation reeked of sex.
If I entered, I wouldn’t be getting out untouched.
This stranger and I would be on exquisitely intimate terms by the time I left. If I could leave. If I could walk after he’d finished with me.
“Come in…please.” He bowed; a strand of dark hair fell over his forehead. “My son won’t let me hear the end of it if I let his girlfriend die of heatstroke outside.”
His words were innocent.
His voice was not.
Pure potency brewed with darkness and yearning.
I shook my head, trying to clear the elixir steadily creeping back over me. This stranger might be unknown to me, but he was a guest on Sully’s island. This was his avatar to hide behind, a long-held perception of himself who he’d always wanted to become.
The illusion was so real.
The neighbourhood so tangible.
The happy cries of street kids so cherub-like.
Even the scents of potted flowers and home-cooked baking danced on the air.