Page 35 of Sweet Nightmares (Wicked Mirrors #2)

Chapter Twenty-Five

J ane’s life was one of service. Serving and servicing powerful men, pleasuring her first husband and his debtors, being Nightmare’s minion, working for the Mirror Mafia… Everything was for someone else.

Jane was done. She wanted her own life. She wanted freedom.

But at that moment, she wanted him.

All of him. Finally.

His back muscles shifted as he walked toward his forbidden wing to drop the cloak off.

“Nightmare, stop. I—”

He rounded on her and snarled. “Do not call me tha—“

“No,” she cut him off. “I am going to call you Nightmare because you are my nightmare. Mine .”

She pushed him up against the wall with the force of her wind, and at first, he fought, standing his ground, but then he relented and let her. His back hit with a thud, and a rush of air came out of him.

She held him to the wall with a hand on his chest. He could overpower her at any moment, but he didn’t.

“You are my Nightmare, the creature that haunts the night, slaying my enemies and keeping me safe. My entire life since I remember it has been a nightmare, and then I met you. and you were worse until you were better.” Moisture curled at the edges of her eyes.

“So, I get to call you my Nightmare because you made it better. Because even at your worst, you have always protected me, even if for selfish reasons.”

Jane stood on pointe and fiercely pulled his mouth to hers, using his shirt as leverage.

The kiss was a conquering, a claiming. Jane was telling him that, while he might own her body and soul, she owned him, too.

He was hers.

The good, the evil, and the monstrous. It was all hers.

She pulled away for a moment and glared up at him. “And you are gonna fuck me now.” Her chest beat to a frantic and needy rhythm. “Eight years is far too long to wait, far too long to want you and not have you.”

His only response was a grunt before he flipped them around, causing her back to hit the wall, and engulfed her mouth again. It was all lips, teeth, and untamed passion—like two starving hyenas devouring a meal after months of starvation. In their case, years of it.

Her legs came up and wrapped around his waist, and she felt the thick bulge of his arousal against her core. She ground against him and let out a moan. And she suddenly realized they were wearing too much clothing.

She ripped at his white-collared shirt, splitting open the buttons, which fell to the marble floor.

He suddenly wrenched his mouth away and pushed her back further into the wall, his hand coming up around her throat. “Slow down.”

“No,” she whimpered.

He sighed and leaned his head against hers as if he were practicing great patience. “You’re not ready for this yet.”

“Nightmare, no, please don’t pull away again,” Jane begged, her breasts rising with her frantic words and breaths. “I can’t wait any longer. I can’t.”

He removed his head from her forehead and pinched his fingertips deeper into her neck, stealing some of her breath. “You misunderstand me. I am going to fuck you tonight, but I’m going to have to show some restraint, and that’s not going to be very easy if you attack me like this.”

“I don’t want restraint.” She managed to get the words out despite his hand on her throat.

“Yet, it’s what you need.” He released some pressure and slowly pressed his lips to hers again. “Let me show you something different. I promise later you will get my beast.”

Nightmare scooped her up, threw her over his shoulder, and walked her to their room before throwing her onto the bed.

“Now, we do this my way.”

“We do everything your way,” she said, sitting back on her elbows and looking at his towering frame.

He lifted his eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

Nightmare snapped his fingers, and her dress, petticoats, corset, and shift disappeared off her body, leaving her fully naked before him.

“You could always do that?”

“With you, yes.” He prowled toward her, his hands first landing on her ankles.

His fingers danced up her calves, and when he got to her knees, he spread her open and placed a kiss on her inner thigh before moving up to her core and proving just how talented his tongue could be.

It took an embarrassing amount of time for her to fall apart. One of his touches was enough. While she orgasmed, he continued his ministrations, wrenching every spasm from her he could get.

“Oh, gods,” she moaned as he slid a finger inside, but just as he did, she tensed and she let out a yelp, her head falling to the pillow.

Jane pinched her eyes shut, hating that he was right.

She was defective. She couldn’t just be fucked normally.

The first time he touched her, she flinched and freaked out, and then the pain started.

She wasn’t normal, and if he had just pounded into her, like she had wanted, it would have been painful like all the other times.

But she hated that he was right, and he knew her so damn well, and she was such an open book when he was a book in a forgotten language.

“Jane,” he growled, and with his free hand, he clutched her chin. “Look at me.”

Her eyes flashed open.

“Trust me, Jane. Let go.” He moved, curled his finger again inside her, and her walls tensed again.

It was so frustrating because she’d been working on this, touching herself so she wouldn’t have this problem anymore, and she knew that it had disappeared.

“Breathe,” he said, placing a kiss on her chin below her ear.

“Breathe, and look at me.” He moved so that his face hovered before hers.

“Breathe, my doe. Breathe and trust me.”

So she did; she sucked in a slow, steady breath and slowly let it out; all the while, his gaze held hers.

It didn’t make sense. How was this man—this monster—so gentle with her? How did he know what she needed when he didn’t even have a heart?

It didn’t make sense.

But it was him.

“Good, now keep breathing.” He curled his finger again, and this time, her pelvic floor didn’t spasm and shoot an intense pain through her body.

This time it—oh, shit. She tilted her head back and grabbed at the sheets because he was caressing a spot that was oh, so…. Oh gods.

She let out a scream, and her body began convulsing in pleasure.

Nightmare stifled the scream with his mouth, plunging his tongue inside; all the while, his talented hands kept going.

But despite his fingers filling her, she felt empty. She needed more. “I need all of you.”

Her hands raked down his chest and curled into his belt. “Please.”

He pulled his large fingers out of her pussy, and they were dripping with her arousal. He sucked one of them into his mouth, tasting her.

It was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen.

Then, his hands moved to his pants, and he unbuckled them and pulled them off, finally releasing his beautiful, obscenely large cock.

Jane just stared at it, wondering how it would fit.

His hands skated up the insides of her thighs, and he pushed them open. He hovered above her, as if in slow motion, and positioned his cock at her entrance.

He thrust, and she watched the tip slowly enter her. Disappearing inside her. She inhaled sharply and held her breath, waiting for the pain, but it didn’t come.

“Breathe, Jane.”

She released the breath she was holding and swallowed, waiting for him to move, to go further. But he simply stared at her and caressed her face with the back of a knuckle. “Are you okay?”

She nodded.

“Any pain?”

She shook her head, unable to speak.

“Any words?”

“I uh—no.”

“My golden cock has driven you speechless.” She nodded again. “Wonderful, let’s see how much I make you scream.”

Nightmare smiled, and it was beautiful and bright. It wasn’t a smile she had ever seen from him in person, but it was much like she had imagined the young Gavriil would give before he met Helene.

Then he moved, thrusting in fully, his knowing eyes locked on her face, watching.

Oh, so slowly, he increased his pace, his velvet thickness sliding and caressing her in ways she didn’t know were possible, and she didn’t think she needed. All the while, he watched her.

Her fingers dug into the sheets, and her head rolled back, a moan falling from her lips, followed by a scream when his talented hand flicked her clitoris.

Then, they did see how much she could scream. Over and over and over again. Nightmare was both attentive and monstrous, even in his passion and even in his restraint, and Jane was entranced—spellbound, and she didn’t want it to end.

She wanted to be in his embrace forever.

She lost count of how many times she came—it had to be a record—and how many times he did too, because almost as soon as they’d finished, he started again as if he, too, wanted it to last forever.

But eventually, she was just too spent, and she passed out, only to wake to him taking care of her and cleaning her up.

Nightmare scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the white clawfoot bathtub, gently placing her in it.

Her eyes went half-lidded, and she rested her head on the tub’s lip while he cleaned her.

His hands traveled over her body once more, but this time, he massaged her.

When his hands got to her hair, she moaned.

“You like to be touched here?” he asked in a low, whiskey voice.

Too much. She let out a sound of agreement but didn’t open her eyes. Sometime during his aftercare, Jane drifted off to sleep, but she couldn’t tell anyone when it happened.