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And dreams.

Lots of filthy dreams that would make Remi the prude if he ever saw them.

Jeremy advances toward me with sure, long steps. He looks the same as when he used to stalk me.

A leather jacket, black jeans, and a scowl so deep, it could make a person confess to crimes they didn’t commit.

His sharp features are shadowed by the lack of light, making him look like a reaper, a devil in his natural habitat.

A devil whose whole punishing attention zeroes in on me.

A zipping sensation slashes through my trembling limbs, mirroring the one from when I ran through that forest and he caught me.

Slammed me down.

Ravaged me.

Made me scream.

My hand pauses on my folds, and I swear he can see it through the thin material of my underwear and shorts, because his attention slides to them.

He probably sees how my fingers tremble, giving away what I’m doing.

If I were doused with gasoline, I’d probably catch fire from his stare alone. Or glare. Or something in between.

There’s a mystic quality to the way he looks at me. It rushes through my aching insides and rips out parts of me I thought were long dead.

He stops by my bedside, arms crossed, and his thumb strokes his jacket in a controlled rhythm. Back. Forth.

Back and forth.

“Is this a dream?” I ask in a sluggish, and definitely drunk, voice.

“I don’t know. Do you think it is?” His low timbre reverberates in the room and stabs my ears.

I focus on our surroundings, on my ‘nerdy’ room, as Remi calls it, with books and manga posters covering the walls and the ceiling.

The chatter, laughter, and karaoke-singing reach me from outside, and I realize the semi-party is still going.

Or this is in fact a dream and I conjured him.

“You… Why are you here?” I start to remove my hand from beneath my shorts, but he shakes his head.

“Hide again and I’ll leave.”

I swallow, flattening my palm on my folds. Jeremy’s expression doesn’t change, whether in approval or displeasure, as he reaches for the elastic of my sleeping shorts.

My free hand grabs his, my nails digging into the veins on the back of it.

“Let go,” he orders with easy authoritativeness. The type that gets past the confinements of my ears and flows into my blood instead.

My fingers tremble and it’s my turn to shake my head. I’m sluggish and can barely think straight, but I can still remember those horrendous images.

Those…loss-of-control pictures.

But then Jeremy comes into focus, with his mean demeanor and not-classically handsome face.

It’s savage beauty as merciless as its owner’s.


Tags: Rina Kent Legacy of Gods Erotic