Page 15

15

Piper

I know it's happening again the moment sleep takes me. The familiar heaviness in my limbs, the slow-building heat, the sense of falling into something I can't control.

My recurring dream.

At first, it's the same as always. The faceless man waits for me in that sunlit meadow, his body tall and powerful, features blurred but presence unmistakable. I approach cautiously, telling myself I'll wake up before it goes too far this time. I never do.

But tonight, something's different. The meadow has changed—it's not just any field anymore. I recognize the rolling hills, the weathered fence posts, the distant barn silhouette. It looks like the Ice Ranch at sunset, golden light bathing everything in warmth.

"You came back," he says, and something about his voice makes my heart stutter. It's familiar in a way it shouldn't be.

"I didn't have much choice," I reply, trying to sound defiant despite the heat already pooling between my thighs. "It's my dream."

He laughs—a low, confident sound that vibrates through me. "Is it? Or am I dreaming you?"

I step closer, drawn to him despite myself. His face is still obscured, but I can make out the shape of his jaw now, strong and defined. My fingers itch to trace it.

"Why won't you let me see you?" I ask, surprising myself with the question.

"You know who I am," he answers, reaching for me. "You're just not ready to admit it."

His hands find my waist, pulling me against him. The solid wall of his chest meets mine, and I gasp at the contact. My body remembers this, craves this, even as my mind tries to resist.

"I don't want this," I lie, even as my arms wind around his neck.

"Liar," he whispers, his breath hot against my ear. "Your body knows the truth."

He lifts me effortlessly, and I wrap my legs around his waist, feeling his hard cock press against my core through our clothes. Unlike before, he doesn't push me against anything. Instead, he lowers us both to the ground, the soft grass cushioning my back as he settles between my thighs.

But then he surprises me. Instead of taking control like before, he rolls us, putting me on top, straddling his hips.

"Show me what you want," he says, his hands resting on my thighs. "Take what you need."

The shift in dynamic leaves me breathless. I've never been given control in this dream before.

I hesitate, then reach for the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head. His hands immediately move to my bare breasts, cupping them, thumbs brushing over my hardened nipples. I arch into his touch, grinding down against the rigid length of him.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice dropping lower. "Show me how much you want this."

I rock against him, creating delicious friction where I need it most. My hands explore his chest, tracing the defined muscles, feeling his heart pound beneath my palm. I lean down, my hair creating a curtain around us as I press my lips to his neck, tasting salt and man.

He groans, his hips bucking up to meet mine. "Piper," he breathes, and the way he says my name sends shivers down my spine.

His hands move to my waistband, pushing my pants down my hips. I help him, kicking them off completely, then work on his jeans, fumbling with the button in my eagerness. When I finally free him, his cock springs up, thick and hard against his stomach.

I wrap my hand around him, stroking slowly, watching as his head falls back, throat working as he swallows. There's something intensely powerful about making this faceless man come undone.

But he doesn't let me maintain control for long. With a growl, he flips us again, pinning me beneath him. "My turn," he says, kissing his way down my body.

This is new. Different. In all the times I've had this dream, he's never done this.

His mouth leaves a trail of fire down my stomach, over my hip bones, until he settles between my thighs. I prop myself up on my elbows, watching as he spreads me open with his thumbs.

"So fucking beautiful," he murmurs, and then his mouth is on me, his tongue flat against my clit.

I cry out, falling back, my hands flying to his hair. It's short, silky between my fingers—another detail my mind has never supplied before. He licks into me, alternating between broad strokes and precise flicks that have me writhing beneath him.

When he slides two fingers inside me, curling them to hit that perfect spot while sucking on my clit, I shatter. My orgasm crashes through me without warning, my thighs clamping around his head as I cry out his name—

Wait. His name? I didn't—

But there's no time to think because he's moving up my body, positioning himself at my entrance. I'm still pulsing from my orgasm when he pushes inside, filling me in one smooth thrust.

"Look at me," he commands, and for the first time, I can see his eyes clearly—ice blue, intense, familiar.

My breath catches. I know those eyes.

He begins to move, setting a pace that's both tender and demanding. Each thrust pushes me higher, builds the tension that's already coiling tight in my belly again.

"Say my name," he urges, his voice rough with need. "I want to hear you say it."

I shake my head, refusing to acknowledge what I already know. But as his movements become more insistent, as his hand slides between us to circle my clit, I can't hold back.

"Jake," I gasp, the name torn from my throat as another orgasm builds. "Jake, please—"

And suddenly his face is clear—those blue eyes, the strong jaw, the mouth that smirked at me across the auction stage before claiming mine in front of everyone.

Jake Ice.

The realization doesn't shock me as much as it should. Deep down, I think I've always known.

He smiles, triumphant and tender all at once. "There you are," he says, like he's been waiting for me to see him all along.

His thrusts become more urgent, his breathing ragged. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, meeting him thrust for thrust.

"Come with me," he whispers, his fingers working my clit with perfect pressure. "Let go, Piper."

And I do. I come apart in his arms, my body clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me. He follows seconds later, his release hot inside me as he groans my name against my neck.

Afterward, he doesn't pull away. Instead, he gathers me close, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin.

"You can't keep pretending," he says softly. "Not with me."

I wake with a violent start, my heart hammering against my ribs, my body slick with sweat and trembling with aftershocks of pleasure.

"Fuck," I whisper, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes.

It wasn't just any faceless man this time. It was Jake. It's always been Jake.

I sit up, hugging my knees to my chest, trying to steady my breathing. This is bad. This is so much worse than I thought.

Because the dream wasn't just about sex anymore. The way he held me afterward, the tenderness in his eyes when I finally saw his face...

I'm not just attracted to Jake Ice. I'm falling for him.

And that terrifies me more than any nightmare ever could.

***

I lie there, panting and spent, and I know I’m in trouble. I’m starting to lose control around him, and I’m not sure I want to find my way back. The thought terrifies me—and excites me in equal measure.

What would it be like to let him take over? To surrender completely? The question lingers in the air, unanswered, as I stare up at the ceiling, my mind still reeling from the intensity of the moment.

I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing, but my body is still humming, still aching for more. Jake’s face is burned into my mind, his touch a ghost on my skin. I can’t shake the feeling that this is only the beginning, that the line between fantasy and reality is blurring—and I’m not sure I want to stop it.

For now, though, I’m alone in my bed, the silence of the night wrapping around me like a shroud. But the restlessness remains, a quiet storm brewing beneath the surface, waiting for the next time Jake Ice crosses my path. And when he does, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself from giving in.

The thought sends a shiver down my spine, and I pull the sheets tighter around me, as if they could protect me from what’s to come. But deep down, I know they can’t. Because with Jake, there’s no protection. Only surrender. And I’m starting to think that’s exactly what I want.

A sharp vibration rattles on the nightstand, yanking me back into reality like a bucket of ice water.

I jolt upright, cheeks burning as I exhale a shaky breath. Jesus Christ. I need to get a grip.

Reaching for my phone, I check the screen—and my stomach drops. Another message from the anonymous account: "Tick tock, Penelope. The world is waiting."

That makes three this week. Someone knows who I am, and they're getting bolder.

As if that's not enough, there's an email from my lawyer about the libel lawsuit. The hockey player I eviscerated in my last major exposé isn't backing down. My sponsors are fleeing, and my bank account is feeling the squeeze.

I swipe away the notifications, trying to ignore the panic rising in my chest. That's when my eyes land on my recording app. The dinner. The entire conversation, saved in crisp audio.

I'll listen to the recording later, searching for anything I can use for a more detailed exposé when enough time has passed. But for now, I need to strike while the auction is still fresh news. Something scathing but based only on public information—nothing that would tie Penelope directly to me.

I bite my lip, heart pounding now for entirely different reasons. I need this. With everything crashing down around me, I need Penelope Darling to stay relevant, to keep bringing in revenue. And nothing sells like a good takedown of a local hero.

Shaking off both the lingering heat in my veins and the growing dread in my stomach, I open my laptop and start typing.

***

EXCLUSIVE: The REAL Jake Ice - Hockey's Bad Boy Charm Offensive

Darlings, remember our golden boy Jake Ice who was auctioned off at the Ice Ranch Blades and Boots Festival? Well, my sources have been buzzing with observations about Cedar Creek's most eligible bachelor.

While he plays the charming gentleman and devoted daddy for the cameras, on the ice he's known for his aggressive style and that infamous temper. That "misunderstanding" with the referee last season wasn't exactly an isolated incident, was it?

Multiple witnesses from the charity match described his playing as "unnecessarily physical" and "borderline reckless" - the same Jake Ice we've seen lose his cool before. One observer noted, "He plays like he's got something to prove, even in a friendly charity game."

What's particularly interesting is how quickly he switches between hockey hothead and small-town sweetheart. My sources spotted the pair at Rosario's after the auction—him treating his "date" to the full charm offensive. Private dining room, expensive wine, the works. Classic misdirection from a man who knows his reputation needs some serious polishing.

One has to wonder which version is the real Jake Ice. The gentleman who opens doors, or the player who slams opponents into boards?

I'm not saying he's a bad guy. I'm just saying there's more beneath that picture-perfect surface than the Ice family PR machine wants us to see.

Stay tuned, my loves. This story is just getting interesting.

XOXO,

Penelope Darling

***

I close my laptop, exhaling slowly. The post is vague enough that it could have come from anyone who witnessed our date, but vicious enough to maintain Penelope's reputation and hopefully keep my remaining sponsors happy.

And the promise of more dirt to come? That buys me time to carefully comb through the recording, find something damning that won't be immediately traceable back to our dinner.

My stomach twists with a new feeling—something that feels uncomfortably like guilt. But I push it down. With a stalker threatening to expose me and a lawsuit draining my resources, I don't have the luxury of a conscience.

This is no longer just business. It's survival.

Here we go.