Page 17 of Full Out Fiend

Once I remember, I feel calm. Or at least calmer than I did a minute ago when I was trapped in the horrors of my own mind.

That wasn’t the first wedding dream I’ve grappled with. But this one felt suffocatingly scary. Terrifying enough that the crush of adrenaline still lights up my nerves. The saddest part is that the dream wasn’t even outlandish: nothing crazy happened to inspire this sense of dread.

It was my wedding day. Anthony was at the end of the aisle. Everything was going exactly as planned.

That’s the problem—had my future played out as planned, I would have been trapped in a living, breathing nightmare. My reality—what I almost went through with; what I’ll have to call off and navigate in the coming weeks—that’s the real nightmare now.

I blow out a long breath, rolling to my side and trying to get comfortable.

Fielding stirs behind me. He reaches around my front with one arm, hooking under my hips and pulling me back until I’m flush with his body.

I wiggle my ass playfully as he cuddles me close.

He bites my shoulder in response, eliciting a whimper I would be embarrassed by if I were with anyone else. But not him. Not tonight.

“Settle down and go back to sleep or get ready for round three, angel,” he whispers, his voice husky with sleep.

I still at his words, but not because I have any intention of settling down. There’s no way I’ll fall back to sleep anytime soon after the dream I just woke from.

“Round three is an option?” I muse, reaching behind me and gliding my hand down the valleys of his abdomen to find him fully erect. I tease my fingertips up the length of his shaft, then run my palm over the crown, making him moan in response to my touch.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

He grabs my waist and hauls me up with him as he rolls flat on his back, positioning me on top as he rearranges himself beneath me.

We’re both naked. I’m eitherstilloronce againdamp between the thighs. I usually hate being on top. I never know where to put my hands, I worry about the dreaded double-chin effect, and I hate having to suck in my stomach—but those thoughts don’t even exist in my mind thanks to the perfect distraction of Fielding’s hands on my tits and his abs contracting beneath my thighs.

His fingers map my body, pinching and tickling in all the right places as he gazes up at me through half-closed eyes with a dazzling smile plastered on his face.

“You’re a fucking dream,” he murmurs as he palms both my breasts.

I swivel my hips in response, then bring my hands up to his, encouraging his fingers to clamp down harder on my nipples. He catches on quick, squeezing and pulling simultaneously as I moan my appreciation.

“How the fuck did your dumbass fiancé want a free pass for the weekend? I’m trying to figure out how to sign up for a monthly membership. Your body is incredible, Daphne. You feel so fucking good in my hands.”

I grip his erect dick in one hand and roll my hips forward, rubbing my sensitive nub with his cock. I whimper as he grunts, both of us lost to the sensation of our bodies coming together.

I work myself up and down his length, holding his cock firmly against my core and creating the most delicious fire against my clit.

“Fuck, I love that. Use me, angel. Show me how hard you like it.”

His words spur me on. I’ve never felt this uninhibited during sex. I don’t worry about riding him too hard or about crushing him. Fielding makes it so easy to get lost in the moment. All I do isfeel.

He moves his hands down my body until we’re a tangle of fingers: me gripping and grinding on his dick, and him caressing and pulling on my pussy lips, spreading me open and running his fingers through my slick arousal.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs, gazing up at me with the most earnest expression. “All of you. Every fucking inch. You’re beautiful, Daphne. I can’t believe I get to make this pussy come again tonight.”

I release his dick, placing my hands on the tops of his thighs behind me and arching back to give him even more access to my most intimate places.

“Look at you. You love showing off for me, don’t you?”

He uses both hands to spread me open. Every fingertip is an individual spark that sets my core on fire.

“You’re so wet,” he purrs, making the observation sound like the sexiest compliment. “So wet and ready. Your body knows what it wants now, doesn’t it angel? Your body knows exactly what it’s about to get from me.”

He lifts one hand to his mouth, licking the tips of his fingers before bringing them back down to my clit. I moan on contact—I can’t help it. I’m so turned on by his words, his praise, the way he’s looking at me, and the promises he’s making to my body.

He uses his whole hand to cast slow, hard circles against my clit, his attention flicking from my face to my pussy, then back up again.