The Alchemist of Broken Dreams by Sienna Rose Blackwell 68
DYLAN
I shut my eyes tightly, forcing myself to ignore his presence behind me. I hate myself for feeling this way towards a man I just met.
Just when I was starting to calm down, I felt his subtle movement behind me that awakened every sense in my body. I become hypervigilant, listening to his every move.
I held my breath when I suddenly felt his strong arm wrapped around my waist. To make the matter worse, I felt his lips pressing against my nape. I can feel his even breathing brushing against my skin.
My body was frozen. I was contemplating whether I should remove his hand or not. But I was afraid that a slight movement would wake him up, and waking him in this position would only make it awkward for both of us.
But what will I do?
Though the warmth of his body makes me surprisingly comfortable, I don’t think this is right.
I took a deep breath before I gently held his arm. I lifted it as carefully as possible so I wouldn’t wake him up. But it was only midair when he suddenly tightened his arm around, pressing his whole body against my back.
My throat went dry when I felt a hard thing pressing against my back. My breath caught painfully in my chest.
I didn’t need to look back to know what it was. I felt it–solid, unmistakable, pressed against me through layers of fabric. My entire body went rigid, panic and heat crashing together in a way that left me dizzy.
This is bad. This is really bad.
He shifted slightly, a low breath leaving him, deeper now, heavier. Still asleep. At least… I thought he was. His arm stayed locked around me, possessive even in rest, as if his body moved on instinct alone.
I swallowed hard, my heart hammering so loud I was sure it would wake him.
“Calm down,” I whispered to myself, barely a sound. “He’s asleep. This means nothing.”
But my body didn’t believe me.
The warmth at my back was overwhelming, his presence too solid, too real. Every small rise and fall of his chest brushed against me, each breath sending unwanted awareness straight through my nerves. I hated how safe it felt. Hated how my muscles slowly stopped trembling, betraying me all over again.
I tried once more–slow, careful–to inch forward, just enough to create space between us.
His arm tightened.
A quiet sound escaped him, something between a sigh and a murmur, his lips brushing my hair as he shifted his face closer to my neck. He didn’t kiss me this time. He didn’t need to. The closeness alone was enough to steal the air from my lungs.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
This was wrong. So painfully wrong.
Yet there I was, trapped between fear and a pull I couldn’t name ny body caught in a moment it didn’t know how to escape. I didn’t dare move again. I didn’t dare speak.
I let a couple of minutes pass before I decided to try again. But before I could even try, I felt his hand move. I held my
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Chapter 68
breath when suddenly he cupped my breast.
This doesn’t look like he’s sleeping. Was he awake? I questioned myself.
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I was torn between confronting him and allowing it. As much as hate to admit it, his touch ignites the fire and desire within me that I can’t deny.
I bit my lower lip to suppress the moan that threatens to escape. I was trying my best not to make a sound even when he started massaging my chest. Even my body betrays me when my nipples started to harden.
Fck! This is dangerous. I should stop this, but how will I do that when my body craves more?
And everything became clear when I suddenly felt his wet tongue brushing along the edge of my ear before he whispered, “Tell me to stop and I will
Say it, Dylan. Say it! I urged myself. But once again, my body betrays me when, instead of protest, a soft moan escapes my lips.
It was his cue to continue his sinful act. His hand slowly traveled down my belly before it effortlessly slipped off my boxer shorts that I borrowed from him. He didn’t waste another minute. His hand went straight right to its goal.
“Hmmm…” he moans in my ear. “You little vixen. How are you this wet when I haven’t done anything?” he murmured.
How can I tell him that I have been dreaming about him doing this even before he made his move?
“Aaaahhh…” I couldn’t hold my moan any longer the moment he slid his finger into my core.
“You’ll make me go crazy, little bunny. How are you this wet? Have you been thinking about another man while you’re lying down beside me?”
No! I’ve been thinking about you! I screamed in my head, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit it.
“Should I punish you, my naughty little bunny?” he asked.
I wanted to scream “yes, but the rational part of me stopped me from doing so. Instead, I moan louder as a response.
He chuckled, “I’ll take that as a yes. He yanked my head and engulfed me in a hard and passionate kiss. He slid his tongue inside my mouth and invaded every corner of it.
And the last thread of my sanity snapped. Something inside me gave in, something tired of fighting, and I found myself answering him with the same hunger. My fingers curled into his shirt, as if anchoring myself, as if letting go would mean falling apart completely. The kiss deepened, slower now, more deliberate, like he was learning every response I couldn’t hide.
I don’t know where to set my mind, on his passionate kiss or on his sinful fingers thrusting in and out of my center. Regardless, both of them were more than enough to send my mind into a frenzy.
My thoughts blurred. Right and wrong slipped out of reach. There was only sensation–his closeness, his touch, the way my body reacted as if it had been waiting for this without my permission.
I broke away just enough to breathe, my forehead resting against his. My pulse was loud in my ears, my chest rising and falling too fast.
“This is a bad idea,” I whispered, though the words lacked conviction.
His voice came low, steady, grounding, and dangerous all at once “Tell me to stop, and I will. This will be my last warning. After this. I won’t be stopping even if you ask me to.”
I stayed quiet. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t bring myself to say. The truth is, I craved him as much as he does.
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I closed my eyes instead, surrendering to the moment, to the ace building inside me, to the quiet truth I could no longer deny-
Tonight, I will let myself drown in my own desire.
AD
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
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