Page 22 of Insurrection
“Ama.” His voice was rough and raspy, causing my nipples to tighten against my…well, I assumed my shirt. But my eyes traveled down the black lace teddy I wore, the scrap of material somehow covering all the important bits but looking completely indecent.
I would have never chosen this for myself…I mean, I looked hot, but this was not my usual type of thing to wear. The way Drayven was looking at me, though? It made me consider if lace was going to become a new staple in my wardrobe.
No. Bad Ama. He’s an asshole who humiliated you. Thankfully, this was just a dream, so I could allow myself to indulge a bit.
“You didn’t answer,” I pointed out as his head dipped and his lips grazed mine briefly before trailing down my jaw and neck. A whimper left my mouth as I squeezed my thighs together, not knowing how to handle this version of Drayven. The one that wanted me. That fed into my secret desire for him, despite this being a dream.
“Don’t make me leave.” His voice was nearly pained, and I felt my entire body flush with heat as his kisses moved lower. A tremble went through me as his rough hand pushed aside the lace material, exposing my breast. He let out a deep feral noise. Holy hell. That noise jolted a part of me that had everything turning into a roaring wildfire.
I couldn’t even form a response as his hot mouth closed around my nipple, making me moan his name needily. My fingers slid into his hair like I had always imagined, and my legs opened for him further, his massive frame coming to rest between them.
“Holy shit,” I felt breathless as he moved to the other side, his fingers replacing his mouth in tortuous and teasing movements that had my clit pulsing with need. If the man wasn’t careful, I was going to end up coming from this alone.
“Every day,” he groaned. “Every fucking day, I have to ignore this Ama. Ignore wanting you.” His words should have annoyed or frustrated me, but instead I was far too caught up in the way he was playing every inch of my body, making my magic light up under his touch. It was toxic and absolutely dangerous.
When his lips brushed mine, I nearly pulled back, afraid to break the spell even though none of this was real. Instead, his kiss deepened, and I found myself almost dizzy from the taste of him. His growl against my lips as he slid his fingers beneath the lace teddy let me know he realized just how much he affected me.
Before I had a moment to be embarrassed, he slid a finger inside of me, sending a bolt of desire through me as he used his thumb to roll my clit with wet heat. A scream caught in my throat as his teeth bit down on my neck just enough to make everything slam together at once. I shook as my climax ripped through me, and I closed my eyes, feeling as if opening them would break my perfectly lust-filled haze…
* * *
“Ama.”
The voice that called my name was the same voice from my dream, only filled with far less desire and far more aggression, the growl making me almost nervous. I shifted in my seat, realizing that we were, unfortunately, not in a bed. A blush filled my face. Holy shit. Had I just come in my dream? A dream about Drayven? Oh no. This was bad news.
Still, I couldn’t find it in myself to be more than a little embarrassed about the desire he could probably smell. I felt so much better now that I’d had some relief. Not just sexually either—my magic felt energized and was zapping around inside of me with excitement from feeding off of that sexual energy once again.
I had a feeling this was going to be the perfect loophole to needing to feed off of lust and desires. Despite having no clue why this was all of a sudden working to satisfy my Succubus hunger, I wasn’t going to turn my nose up at it.
I blinked my eyes open and reared back slightly, finding Drayven caging me against the seat, his jaw tight enough that I was seriously concerned it might break. That wasn’t the only thing different about him, either. His dark eyes flashed with a pulse of neon green, showing how little control he had over himself right now. His breath was coming out rough and uneven. Oh man. He was either really pissed or really turned on. I was going to assume the first.
“Why are you in my space?” I asked curiously, my voice filled with false calm. As my post-climax haze settled, I became increasingly more embarrassed. Who has an orgasm from a dream? He probably thought I was weird. Then again, it wasn’t like he could confirm that I’d had the dream. Thank fuck he didn’t know he’d starred in it—
“Why the fuck are you using your magic on me?” His snarl had me freezing as I was hit with a metaphorical slap of icy wind to the face, shaking me from the cozy reality I had been living in. His accusation hurt on several levels, but I needed to address what he was saying first, because…well, it just was ridiculous.
Obviously, I hadn’t used my magic on him. I would know if I had...wouldn’t I?
“Magic?” I arched my brow in utter confusion. The only magic that had occurred was getting off from a dream in secret.
“You pulled me into your dream with your Succubus magic,” he leveled, his energy dangerously sharp against my skin.
What the hell?
I tilted my head, feeling everything inside me tighten with concern and anxiety, “What? What are you talking about?”
“I was in your fucking dream, or you were in mine,” he growled, running a hand through his hair. “I have no idea how you were doing it. I wasn’t dreaming and then, suddenly, I was there when you—”
I felt mortified. Having a sex dream was one thing, but having a sex dream and literally pulling someone who hated you into it…yeah, that was an entirely new level of ‘fuck my life.’
Wait...had the same thing happened with the arrogant man from the restaurant when I’d had my dream last night?
I frowned, not understanding how any of that was even possible. I couldn’t deny that there had been elements to the dream I had thought were odd for myself to think up. Like the bedroom I didn’t recognize, or the lingerie that wasn’t my style. Drayven might have been onto something about me being in his dream, not that it really made anything any better. But some of what had happened in the dream was from his imagination, not mine.
Had my body realized how I needed to feed and called out in my sleep to satisfy itself?
His face softened slightly, “You didn’t do it on purpose?”
I swallowed and sat back—or I tried to, but Drayven’s hand shot out, and he tugged my leg forward before he seemed to process it. My breathing quickened as he stared down at his hand on my leg with conflict and confusion on his face, as if he hadn’t meant to do that. I squeezed my legs together, feeling uncomfortable and flustered and frankly not knowing how to handle the situation.
