Page 16 of Demon of Dreams

Dimly, I sensed that this was weird. It was like some alien part of my brain had taken over. But I couldn’t quite muster the energy to fight it.

I wasn’t attracted to men, and I certainly wasn’t attracted to a man I barely knew, a man older than my father. A man who kept talking about hunting in a way that made me pretty sure he wasn’t talking about deer.

Except, fuck, maybe I was? I couldn’t deny that my cock was aching, straining up against the denim of my pants. I bit my lip and smiled, looking into Tom’s eyes. His hand slid northward, then palmed my cock through my jeans, and I swear I almost came. What Ididdo was moan, loud enough that the greasy guy definitely heard it, but I found I didn’t care what he might think anymore.

“That’s good news,” Tom said, giving my cock a squeeze. “Just what I wanted to hear.” His hand slid farther up, reaching my waist, then dipping underneath the hem of my sweatshirt. “Just give me one minute to close up, and you and I can continue this someplace a little more comfortable.”

His hand touched my stomach. It was colder than I expected, and I jumped, suddenly free of whatever spell I’d been under. I scrambled off the stool.

“Uh, sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean to—that is—it’s not you. I just—” I looked around the bar wildly, not even sure what I was looking for. The door came into view. An exit. That was what I needed.

“I just realized I need to—that is—th-thank you!”

I dashed across the bar and threw the door open, running down the wooden steps to the parking lot before stopping short. Fuck, it was cold out here. There was an inch of fresh snow on the ground. I’d forgotten my jacket inside, but there was no way I could go back in and get it right now. Not with my head this fuzzy.

My eyes caught sight of a sign that saidRESTROOMS, with an arrow pointing around the corner. Praying the restrooms weren’t locked, I jogged to the back of the inn. Two doors indicated bathrooms, men’s and women’s, on the back of the building. I tugged on the men’s room door. It opened with a loud creak.

I slipped inside, then turned around. No lock on the door. Shit.

The bathroom was all one room, with a sink, a urinal, and a single stall in the back corner. Stall it was. I hurried inside it, flipped the lock, then leaned up against the cold brick wall on the far side.

That stall lock wasn’t going to do much good if someone was determined to get to me. But I wasn’t scared of Tom. Or at least, he wasn’t my biggest fear. My biggest fear wasmyself.

I didn’t trust myself to stay away from him. From any man, at this point. My dreams were bad enough. At least I could blame those on randomly firing neurons. But I was awake right now. I pinched the inside of my wrist and yelped, looking down at the angry red marks left by my nails.

Yep, definitely awake. And definitely still hard, I realized with a sinking feeling. Why was I suddenly hard all the time? Around men, in particular?

I’d never been that sexual a person before. Never even had much interest in jerking off. But for the past day—well, week—I mean, okay, the past few months, if I were being honest—I’d found myself wound tighter and tighter, a hair-trigger away from getting hard all the time.

What was happening to me? Why was I like this? WhydidI like this?

Because that was the crux of the issue. It might be freaking me out, might make my skin crawl, imagining what my dad would say if he knew, but…I liked this. I liked it.

‘It’ being…men.

My stomach knotted in shame, but my hand was already moving to unzip my jeans, freeing my cock. God, I was so hard. So close to the edge, from nothing more than the presence of another man, and a single squeeze to my cock.

My cock, which was currently begging for attention. I couldn’t stop myself from giving it what it needed. My mind ran back over the past few minutes. Tom’s sturdy shoulders. The thickness of his arms, the weight of his belly. The way he’d looked at me so hungrily.

Fuck, it felt good to be wanted.

What if I hadn’t run away? What if I’d had the courage to stay, to admit what I wanted? The courage to admit it to myself, and someone else?

I stroked myself fast and hard, eyes closed as I reimagined the scene. Tom’s hand on my cock, then sliding up my shirt. In my mind, I didn’t jump. I spread my legs wider, then pulled him close, bringing my hands to his husky chest. He knew what I wanted, without me even having to say.

He picked me up and laid me down on the bar, pulling my jeans and boxers off in one smooth motion. One hand went to my cock, the other slid in between my legs, back between my ass cheeks to—

A crash brought me back to reality, and I realized someone else had just opened the bathroom door. There was thumping, and fumbling, and a slick, wet noise, followed by the low rumble of someone’s voice, too quiet for me to hear clearly.

Oh, shit. What if it was Tom? What if he’d come looking for me after all? What if he was slicking his cock up right now, and he was about to burst into the stall and make this all too real? It was one thing to fantasize about it, but to really do it.

And I couldn’t. I needed to get out of here, before he could get close to me and mess with my head again. I stumbled to the stall door and threw open the lock, then stopped in surprise.

It wasn’t Tom.

It was two men, in fact. One of them was the greasy-looking guy from the bar, a fresh cigarette tucked behind his ear. The other was a man I’d never seen before. Early thirties, maybe, and tall, with shoulders that made him look like a lumberjack. The flannel and five o’clock shadow didn’t hurt either. And his face—it was almost hard to take it in, how masculine he was. And handsome.

Handsome? The question flitted across my mind.Since when do you find guys handsome? But I was too caught up to care. The guy was gorgeous, with high cheekbones that looked carved out of wood, a hawkish nose, and dark brows over deep hazel eyes. You could have gone rock-climbing on his jaw.

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