Destined to the Hellhound: BEAST

Chapter 18

Stomping to my room like a petulant child, I slam the door as loudly as I can, even though I know he's gone.

I have the rationality to understand that he was in an impossible situation. If he had left me with my wings, I can say with certainty that I would have flown away. Even with the threat of a painful death, I would have risked it. But I hate him for taking them.

Burying myself in my blankets, I toss and turn in the uncomfortable bed. Just as I feel myself finally starting to slip away, a sound jolts me awake. Sitting up in my bed, I rub my eyes, trying to process what I'm seeing.

I'm not in my room at all. I'm in his room.

This has to be a dream. I know I came back to my room.

A quiet, strained breath makes me heat up suddenly. I don't know how I know, I just do. I can feel him.

Turning, I find him on his bed behind me. Sitting back against the headboard. My eyes nearly fall out as I take him in. His robe is open, revealing his rock-hard body. Everything is hard. Everything.

His cock is lying up over his stomach. Long and thick, and swollen.

I can't close my mouth or break my fixated gaze. I've never seen anything like it. His hand moves, flexing and then clenching into a fist.

I want him to touch it. I'll never tell him, but in a dream, I can let this fantasy play out. I can act on the urges that bubble up from deep in my belly, urges that make everything warm, wet, and fluttery.

"Take the sweater off," his voice sends a flash of heat down my spine. Deep and growling like the words have to claw their way out.

As I start to pull my arms through the sleeves, his brows raise in surprise. "Who knew you could do as you're told?"

"Well, don't get used to it."

He hums, shifting his hips. "One of these days I'm going to fuck that bratty attitude right out of you."

"How are you so sure I'm ever going to let you fuck me?" I tilt my head. Lying! I'm lying. If his real cock looks anything like this dream cock, I'm going to let him do whatever he wants to me. It's like a magnet, I'm drawn to it, to him.

"Run your fingers through your pussy, and let me see." He smirks.

Shit. He's got me there. Running my fingers through the slick wetness, I hold them out, and he groans, dropping his head back.

"I've been sitting here for twenty minutes, thinking about how good your little cunt tastes. Look how worked up you've made me." He moves, and his cock bobs up and down.

"Touch it," I whisper.

"Fuck, I want to," he grunts, pressing his heels into the mattress. He's struggling, fighting against his desire.

"Do it." My body unconsciously leans closer to see it better.

When he finally wraps his fist around it, we both groan and breathe a sigh of relief.

Slowly and with control, he pumps his hand up and down. The muscles in his stomach and chest are already shaking and twitching.

"Lie back and spread your legs, let me see it." His eyes are locked on my bare skin.

Spreading my legs open, I lean back on my elbow to be able to watch him.

He hums again, low and rumbling, "Good girl."

The slow, steady strokes of his hand are killing me. I feel each one in the form of a thumping pulse between my legs.

"Fuck," I whimper, biting my lip to force myself into silence. I've never watched anyone do this before. It's so fucking sexy. Every tense muscle, every panted breath, every tortured groan, it's too much and not enough.