Chapter 4: REBECCA

{THE TASTE OF MIDNIGHT AND REGRET 2}

I crawled into bed, my hair wet on the pillow, my body tired but my mind racing, sleep pulled me down, deep and dark.

And the dream came.

It wasn't foggy. It was hyper-real. The scent of him...his scent, not the memory of it...filled my room. Leather and winter air and male skin.

The bed moved.

I opened my eyes.

He was there. A dark shape lit by the moonlight coming through my blinds. Sitting on my bed, looking at me.

"You're here," I breathed, not surprised.

In the dream, it made perfect sense.

"I'm everywhere you are, Rebecca," he murmured, his voice was deep and smooth, like soft fabric that brushed against my skin. "I have been for four years."

He reached out. His rough, warm fingers touched my jaw. It wasn't a command. It was a gentle touch.

The softness of it took my breath away.

"I dreamt about you," I confessed, the dream-me having no filters, no defenses.

"I know." His thumb brushed my lower lip. "Show me."

The covers were pushed back, the cool air kissed my bare skin—I was naked, of course, I was naked.

He stood over me, his big body blocking the moonlight. He didn't jump at me; he just slowed down. His knees nudged my thighs apart, and he lowered himself between them, his weight a delicious, grounding force.

His mouth found mine.

This kiss was slow, deep, devouring in a different way. His tongue swept into my mouth, tasting me, exploring me with a lazy, thorough arrogance that made my toes curl.

My hands came up, tangling in the soft, thick hair at the nape of his neck. I could feel the powerful muscles of his back flexing under my palms.

He kissed a hot, wet path down my throat, over the heated pulse there, down to the swell of my breast. His mouth closed over my nipple, and I cried out, my back bowing off the bed.

He sucked, hard, tongue flicking the pebbled peak, teeth grazing with just enough bite to make lightning shoot straight to my cunt.

"So sweet," he growled against my wet skin. "All this... for me."

His hand slid down my trembling stomach, through the thatch of curls, and found my slit. He groaned, a deep, hungry sound that vibrated through my entire body.

"Soaking wet. Dreaming of me made you this wet, little wolf?"

I could only whimper, my hips lifting, seeking his touch.

He gave it to me, not with fingers, but with his mouth.

He shifted lower, his broad shoulders pushing my thighs wider, and then his breath was a hot brand on my inner thigh, and then his tongue was on me.

Oh, fuck.

It was nasty. It was glorious.

A long, slow, flat lick from my aching entrance all the way up to my throbbing clit. He circled the tight bundle of nerves, lapped at it, then drew it gently between his lips and sucked.

I shattered immediately, a broken, sobbing climax that tore through me. My hands fisted in the sheets, my heels dug into the bed.

He didn't stop.

He drank my release, his tongue delving inside me, fucking me with it, coaxing another, sharper peak from my oversensitive flesh until I was sobbing, begging, "Too much... Jaxon, please..."

He rose over me, his eyes twinkling in the dark.

I could see the thick, hard line of his cock straining against his pants. He unbuckled, freed himself, and the sight of him—long, thick, veined, the head ruddy and wet—made my mouth water and my cunt clench around nothing.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice guttural.

I did. I couldn't look away.

He positioned himself at my entrance, the broad, hot crown nudging against my soaked, swollen folds.

He didn't shove. He pressed.

An inexorable, stretching, burning attack that stole my breath.

"I want all of you," he whispered, his forehead touching mine, our breaths mingling. "Every sigh. Every scream. I have wanted to ruin you for anyone else for four fucking years."

And he began to move.

It was a slow, deep, perfect ruin. Each thrust was a deliberate, soul-searing possession. He filled me so completely, stretched me so exquisitely, that I felt branded from the inside out.

My legs wrapped around his waist, my ankles locking at the small of his back, pulling him deeper.

The pace built. Slow, deep rolls of his hips became harder, faster snaps. The slap of skin on skin, the wet, slick sounds of our joining, filled the quiet room. His grunts were harsh in my ear, mine were choked, pleading things.

"There... oh God, right there..." I chanted as he angled his thrusts, hitting a spot deep inside that made stars burst behind my eyelids.

He fucked me like he owned me. Like my body was his to use, his to pleasure, his to wreck.

And I gave it all to him.

I met every thrust, I took every brutal, beautiful inch, I screamed his name into the crook of his neck as another orgasm, harder than the first, ripped me apart.

My cunt clenched around him in rhythmic, milking pulses, and I felt him swell even thicker inside me.

"Come for me," I gasped, my nails scoring his back. "Fill me up. I want to feel it..."

His control snapped.

With a raw, animalistic roar, he drove into me one final, devastating time, burying himself to the hilt.

I felt the hot, pulsing rush of his release flood my depths, painting my insides with his heat. He collapsed atop me, his full weight a crushing, heavenly anchor, his face buried in my hair, his breath ragged drags against my scalp.

We lay there, tangled, sweat-slicked, utterly spent. His cock, still semi-hard, was still nestled inside me, a thick, possessive plug.

His fingers traced sluggish, tender patterns on my hip.

It was perfect. It was everything.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

I woke up with a start, the sunlight streaming through my window making my skull feel like it was splitting in half.

I groaned, rubbing my eyes as the events of the dream came flooding back, making my stomach churn with a mix of shame and longing.

My phone rang on the nightstand.

"Hello?" I croaked, sitting upright.

"Rebecca McCall? This is the housing Dean's office."

My heart leaped into my throat. "Yes? Is there an opening?"

"Actually, yes. Someone moved out this morning. It's a shared suite in the athlete's wing. We can get you in today. How do you feel about having a roommate?"

"I don't care!" I said, a genuine smile breaking across my face for the first time in twenty-four hours. "I will take it. Thank you, thank you!"

The lady hung up, and I slumped back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. A new room. A fresh start. Away from Gavin, away from my mother's worry.

Everything was finally looking up.