He grabs my hair and yanks me to my feet, pulling me off the trail. Then he’s shoving me deeper into the woods. I trip and fall down onto the ground. Twigs and branches dig into my bare legs. I go to get up, but his fist hits my back, knocking me down again. “Stay down, bitch!” he orders, pushing my face to the rough ground.
Tears run down my face as he rips my shorts down my legs along with my underwear. Then he’s shoving my legs apart. I cry out when his hand touches my pussy.
“Ahh, you’re wet,” he says in surprise.
I sob, my body shaking.
“You like being taken, don’t you, you little slut.” He grips my hair and leans down. “Don’t worry, looks like you’ll get to finish after all.”
I sit straight up, gasping for air in the darkness. Reaching over, I knock a few things to the floor to find a light. When I press a button, the room lights up, and I see I’m at home in my apartment, naked in my bed. Alone.
“Not again.” I breathe. Leaning forward, I drop my face in my hands and try to calm my breathing. I look at my cell, and it says it’s a little after three in the morning. How did I get home? The club … drinking with Sarah … Ryat. He showed up. Must have brought me home and dropped me off.
Lying down on my back, I stare up at the ceiling. My mouth is dry and tastes like lingering alcohol. Throwing off my covers, I get out of bed on shaky legs and open my bedroom door. Stepping out, I come to a stop when I see Ryat sitting on my couch, his cell in his hands and staring straight at me.
“Ryat?” I squeal, taking a step back. “You, uh… what are you doing here?” I stumble over my words, still trying to catch my breath.
His eyes drop to my hard nipples, and I cross my arms over my chest. They lower to my legs, and I cross them as well, leaning up against the doorframe to my bedroom for support. “What were you doing?” he counters, arching a brow.
“Nothing.” I shrug carelessly, but his eyes run up and over my body, and I can tell by the look in them, he knows I’m full of shit. I bite my lip to keep from whimpering. Not again. This can’t be happening again.
“You were doing something.” He stands, pocketing his phone, and walks over to me.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Sleeping.” Not a total lie. I literally just woke up like this.
Coming to a stop in front of me, he orders, “Open my legs.”
If I know anything about Ryat, it’s that he’ll get what he wants. No matter what. I push off the wall and uncross my shaking legs for him as humiliation washes over me.
RYAT
SHE PRACTICALLY RANout of her room, breathing heavily, nipples hard, legs shaking. She looked like she just got herself off. And she was surprised to see I was still here. She knows she’s not allowed to do that.
Dropping her head, she closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. She looks almost ashamed. I place my hand on the inside of her thigh. She flinches but doesn’t pull away. I run my hand up between her legs and cup her pussy, sliding my middle finger between her lips. She’s fucking soaked. “Did you touch yourself?” I ask. I’d actually love to watch her get herself off.
She shakes her head, eyes still on the floor.
“You’re awfully wet for someone who was just sleeping.”
She remains silent.
“Tell me,” I say, spreading her pussy wide and pushing a finger into her, seeing just how turned on she is.
“I had a dream,” she whispers.
“And?”
“And nothing. It was just a dream,” she answers vaguely.
“It was something.” I slide a second finger into her, and she whimpers. “Tell me about it.”
I gently play with her clit, just trying to relax her. The woman is already worked up. No foreplay is needed at this point. “I was running through the woods.” She swallows. “Well, jogging on a trail. And someone was following me.”
“Yeah?” I remove my fingers and slide my hand up over my stomach and chest, smearing herself on her skin. I undo her arms crossed over her chest and start playing with her nipple.
“He …” Moaning, she stops herself.
“What about him?” I ask, telling myself not to get jealous. It was just a dream. “What did he do?”
She’s silent for a long second before whispering, “He knocked me down, tied my hands behind my back, and dragged me off the trail.” Pausing again, she takes in a shaky breath. “And …”
“And what?” I lean in and kiss her neck, tasting the salt from her sweat. Pulling back, I lick my lips for another taste.
“And he fucks me,” she whispers.
“You mean he rapes you,” I correct her.
She whimpers and places her hands over her face.
“Hey.” I grab her arms and pull her hands away. Shaking her head, she drops her face to stare at the floor. I grip her chin and force her to look at me. “Don’t be ashamed, Blake.” I’ve never been one to kink shame. We all like something different. It takes some of us a little more to get off. Some of us have better imaginations than others when it comes to fantasies.
She sniffs. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had the dream.”
“When was the last time you had it?”
“Over the summer. Matt and I were back home, and he was staying over.” She swallows. “I woke up wet and horny. I woke him up to tell him about it. I wanted to mess around. He left and didn’t talk to me for two weeks.” The first tear runs down her face. “He said that there was something wrong with me. That I was fucked up.” She covers her face with her hands and starts to cry.
There is nothing wrong with a girl who has forced-sex fantasies. Matt is just a punk-ass bitch. The more I see how he was and is with her, I think he was training her. I thought he had true feelings for her, but I think there were other reasons as to why he was with her. And I’m going to find out what they are.
I pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her. “Good girl.” I praise her for telling me, and her body shakes against mine. Bending down, I put my arm behind her legs and pick her up, carrying her back to her room. That text I was in the middle of can wait.
CHAPTER TWENTY
BLAKELY
“MATT?” I SHOVE his shoulder.
“What?” he mumbles, eyes still closed.
“Get up, babe.” I kiss his chest. “I want to play around.”
“Blakely …” He opens his eyes and checks his cell on my dresser next to my bed. “It’s after midnight.”
“I know.” I get up and straddle his hips. Lifting his hands, I place them on my boobs. “I just had this dream.”
“Oh, yeah?” He chuckles, his hands squeezing my breasts on his own. “Must have been good? What did we do?”
“Well, I was jogging—”
“On that trail I tell you to stay the fuck away from?” He interrupts me.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I was running, and a man was following me. He said he had been watching me.” I grind my pussy on his dick. I can feel how hard it is through his boxers. He won’t fuck me, but we do other things. My body is craving sex. So bad. I don’t know how much longer I can wait. “Anyway, when I went to run away, he chased me down and tied my hands behind my back, and dragged me into the trees …”
His hands drop from my chest. “What?”
I wave off his concerned tone. “I wanted it. There was just something about it. I was …”
“You dreamed you were raped?” he snaps.
I bite my bottom lip nervously. My heart accelerates and shoulders sag.
“Jesus, Blakely. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?” He glares up at me.
“You?” I ask, looking at him through my lashes.
“Yeah. Me.” He shoves me off him and gets out of bed. “If some guy decides he wants to rape you, you’re going to let him. And get off on that shit.”
I’ve had this dream ever since I was fifteen. And at first, I was disgusted with myself. Why would anyone dream and get turned on by something like that when people have experienced something so traumatic in real life? “Lots of women have forced-sex fantasies,” I argue. After the fifth time I had this dream, I started doing research, and I found I wasn’t alone.
They call it forced-sex fantasy because rape implies violence. And for women who fantasize about this—it’s the fact that someone wants them so much, they can’t help themselves. Can’t take no for an answer. It’s more of the domination aspect of it.
He snorts, yanking up his jeans. “Please. No one asks to be raped, Blakely.”
I flinch. “Just because I have a fantasy doesn’t mean I want it to happen in real life. To me. To anyone for that matter.” The studies I found said that those who fantasize about it are the most erotically open and adventurous. I’m neither one of those things because I’m still a virgin. I think I have this dream because I want him to take me. I want him to dominate me, but he turns me down every time.
I think I dream about it happening on that trail because he has warned me about it not being safe. And somehow, I’ve connected the two.
He pulls his shirt down over his head and looks down at me. His lip is pulled back, and he shakes his head with disgust. “That’s fucking sick, Blakely. You’re fucked up.” And with that, he leaves my room, slamming the door behind him.
Ryat lays me on the bed, and I roll away, unable to face him right now. I hear him removing his jeans and T-shirt before he crawls in behind me.
The bed dips as he gets in. “Blake.” He places his hand on my shoulder and rolls me back to face him. “There is nothing wrong with you,” he says, running his fingertips along my cheek to push my hair off my tear-streaked face.
I swallow and try to calm my breathing. “It’s wrong,” I whisper. After that, I told myself that I’d never have that dream again, and if I did, I’d fight, scream, bite, and run faster. But I did none of those things this time. I let him catch me, and I was going to enjoy it if I hadn’t woken up too soon.
“No, it’s not,” he argues. “It’s just a fantasy. Everyone has those. And that’s normal.”
“It’s not the violence I crave,” I tell him honestly. “Although I like it rough, I think it’s more of the idea of a man being so overcome with desire for me that he can’t be stopped. And the fact I have no say over what he does. The feeling of having no control makes me feel in control. I let him catch me even though I run. I let him do it even though I fight him,” I ramble, trying to get it all out. Matt didn’t want to hear how I felt, and he never mentioned it again.
Ryat’s eyes search mine, and I look away, again feeling shame.
“I know, it sounds stupid,” I whisper.
“No, it doesn’t.”
“It’s just hard to explain.” I lick my wet lips.
“I think it makes perfect sense.”
Biting my bottom lip, I add, “I think the man was you.”
He adjusts himself on his side and props his head up in his hand. “Why is that?”
“Because up until now, he’s never had a face.” It’s just always been a blur. Or I just never remembered it when I woke up.
“And you saw me this time?” he asks, his green eyes searching my face. He doesn’t look disgusted in the least with what I just told him.
“No. He was wearing a mask. The same one you have,” I answer softly. I’ve only ever seen Ryat wearing the mask that one night at the house of Lords party, and at that time, I didn’t even know it was him.
He sighs, his free hand lazily running up and down on my arm, “Well, after what we did at the house of Lords party, when I had a mask on … then you were unconscious when I touched you here in your apartment … I can see that. It makes sense you’d put me in this guy’s place. I’ve dominated you. And that’s what you like.”
My cheeks flush, and he cups my face. “It’s okay, Blake. You’re okay. And I’d be more than willing to give you what you want.”
My heart picks up at his words, my eyes widening. “What do you mean?”
“Tell me what you want, along with your limits, and I’ll do it. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“You mean my fantasy?” I ask slowly.
He nods.
My thighs clench at the thought. So many possibilities. Scenarios. I’ve only ever had that same one over and over. “I’ll think about it,” I tell him, still a little uncomfortable talking about it. I’m not sure I will feel okay telling him what I want. Or what I think I want. I’m not even sure what it is exactly.
RYAT
I KISS HERforehead and pull her body into mine. I’m not going to lie to her, but her fantasy turns me on. I had a feeling she’d like being dominated, but this is a fantasy on a whole new level. One that I’m more than happy to fulfill for her.
Matt is pathetic and knows nothing when it comes to sex. Three years without it and the bastard didn’t do any research? He never once thought that maybe his girlfriend was craving something that he should look into?
No woman asks to be raped—it’s a fantasy about submission. She wants to be dominated in way that she knows she’ll enjoy it. It’s the act of the coercion.
I’m not sure when the dreams started and I’m no sex psychologist, but maybe it was the fact that Matt turned her down so many times that she had to force herself to enjoy what her body craved. I mean, I loved when she drank the GHB and gave herself over to me, not knowing what I was going to do to her. Hell, she even thought I actually took her virginity at the time.
To her, that was a way of giving herself over to something that she knew she wouldn’t be able to control. But it was still her choice.
Matt tried to rape our assignments wife, but he put Blake down for fantasizing about it? That doesn’t make any sense. Although one is nothing like the other. He told her she was fucked up? I know Lords who prefer to watch other men fuck their chosens. I’d never allow that but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong. Fuck, maybe it means I’m insecure, and that’s completely fine. That’s my issue, not anyone else’s. Who the fuck cares? As long as all parties are consenting, then do whatever the fuck you want.
Pulling my chest away from her face, I look down to see her eyes closed and lips parted, she’s back asleep. Running my hand through her soft hair, I wonder what she’s dreaming about right now. Me and her? Back on that trail in the woods?
I want her to see me with the mask off and know that it’s fucking me giving her exactly what she wants. If she wants to role play, then I’ll play along. She can give me as much or as little. Doesn’t matter, I have an imagination, and I’ll make sure she likes whatever I come up with.
I snuggle her back into me, and I close my eyes, thinking a little forced-sex fantasy dream sounds pretty fucking good right now.