Chapter 5: The Velvet Nightmare

Elena Pov

My God, I could see the shape of his dick pushing against the thin, dark gray towel, and I was already getting wet.

Even through the thick, heavy fog of the wine, the sheer, imposing reality of him was undeniable. The rigid outline was thick, long, and impossibly heavy, straining against the fabric just inches from my face. A deep, liquid heat coiled tightly in my lower stomach—a desperate, throbbing ache that completely eclipsed the dull pain of the bruises on my cheek. I was kneeling at his feet, completely helpless, drowning in the intoxicating scent of his sandalwood soap, the dampness of the rain, and the raw, masculine heat radiating from his skin.

He didn't push me away. He didn't call security. Instead, his large, heavy hand moved downward, his long fingers brushing against the bare skin of my chest, tracing the edge of my ruined dress.

He touched my breast, and I could feel the shock. It was like a violent electric shock ripping straight through my nervous system, making my spine arch automatically. My breath hitched in my throat, a ragged, breathless gasp escaping my parted lips as his large palm cupped me, weighing the heavy, aching fullness of my breast in his hand. His palm was rough, calloused from power, and so incredibly warm against my sensitive skin that my nipples hardened instantly under his touch, poking hard against his flesh.

Before I could even process the exquisite torture of his touch, the massive stranger bent down, lowering his towering frame until he was completely enveloping me in the moonlight, pinning me against the edge of the mattress with his sheer bulk.

He put his lips on my bare breast, his mouth hot, wet, and demanding as he swirled his tongue around the aching, sensitive peak before sucking it deeply into his mouth. A sharp, piercing jolt of pure ecstasy shot straight down between my thighs, making my secret center pulse with a heavy, drenching moisture. I let out a loud, whimpering cry, my hands automatically flying into his damp, dark hair, my fingers tangling in the strands to hold his mouth tight against me. At the same time, his other hand slid down, his strong, unyielding fingers gripping my inner thigh with a possessive tightness that anchored me to the floor and forced my legs to part for him.

With his free hand, he gripped the knot of the towel at his waist and pulled it away, discarding it into the shadows. When he shifted his weight, I vibrated when I saw his dick.

My goodness, it was big and thick. It was only the second dick I had ever seen in my life—the first being Julian’s—and it didn't even look real. It was a massive, rigid column of dark veins and heavy muscle, throbbing with a dangerous, primal energy that made Julian’s two-minute routine look like a pathetic, distant joke. The sheer size of it terrified me, but the sight only made the slick, heavy moisture between my legs drench my panties completely, dripping down my inner thighs. I wanted it. I wanted the thickness of him inside me. I wanted him to use that massive weight to stretch me, to claim me, and to completely erase every single memory of the last five years of neglect.

"Please..." I choked out, my head tossing back against the edge of the mattress as his mouth moved to my other breast, biting gently on the sensitive skin, while his rough hand slid higher up my thigh, tearing the lace of my underwear out of the way. "Please don't stop... even if it is a dream. Just make me forget. Please."

I was begging him, completely unbothered by the fact that I didn't even know his name or whose room I had stumbled into. In this perfect, alcohol-fueled illusion, he was my savior, a beautiful god sent to heal the cracks in my broken soul with pure, unadulterated pleasure. His long, thick fingers slipped beneath the ruined lace of my underwear, finding my swollen, soaking slit. He dragged his thumb up and down my clit, spreading my own juices over the sensitive bundle of nerves until I was shaking, whimpering, and arching my hips into his hand.

Then, he drove two fingers deep inside me.

I let out a shattered, breathless scream.

He was so thick, so deep, stretching my tight walls until it felt like a delicious, burning ache. He began to stroke inside me, his fingers mimicking the heavy, relentless rhythm I had seen him use on Julian earlier, while his thumb continued to grind against my dripping clit. The pleasure was too much, too sharp. My walls clamped down tightly around his fingers, contracting in desperate, wet pulses as I hovered right on the edge of a screaming climax.

But just as I arched into his hand, desperate for him to slide that massive dick inside me and finish what he started, his movements suddenly froze.

The man stopped sucking my breast. He abruptly withdrew his wet fingers from inside me, leaving me cold, gasping, and whining miserably for the return of his touch in the dark.

Before I could protest or grab his hands, the man gripped my hips with a steel vice-like hold. He pulled me backwards across the plush rug, dragging my body until I was lying flat on my back on the floor, the silver moonlight illuminating every inch of my flushed, exposed skin. He towered over me, naked and massive, staring down at me with an intensity that felt like a bucket of ice water crashing over my head. His gray eyes were pitch black, dilated with a dangerous, warring conflict, his chest heaving heavily as he looked at my flushed, tear-stained face, the fresh bruise on my cheek, and the youthful curve of my body.

"How old are you?" he growled, his voice a tight, deadly rumble that vibrated through the floorboards.