Chapter 40 Chapter 40
"Some nightmares don’t chase you in sleep, they wait patiently for you to blink.”
Trinity and Clara stood in the dimly lit hallway of their apartment, the air thick with the exhaustion after a long day of late shopping haul.
Clara rubbed her eyes, her red lingerie peeking from beneath her robe, a colour she subconsciously wears.
"Goodnight, Trin," Clara murmured, her voice soft and tired. "Try to get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day"
"Yeah, you too, Clara. Sweet dreams.....or whatever passes for them these days."
They hugged briefly before Clara slipped into her room, the door clicking shut behind her.
Trinity retreated to her own bedroom, the large space feeling more confining than usual. She stripped down to her tank top and shorts, sliding under the thin blankets.
The clock on the nightstand glowed 11:23 p.m. She stared at the ceiling, the shadows dancing from the faint streetlight outside.
Sleep. She needed sleep but every time she closed her eyes, his face appeared....Peterson, with that infuriating grin. Was it a dream? Or something more?
The thought made her skin crawl and her core heat in equal measure.
She yawned, her body begging for rest, but she fought it, propping herself up on her pillows. "Not tonight," she muttered to herself. "You stay out of my dream, you bastard."
The yawns came relentlessly, her eyelids drooping despite her will.
She pinched her arm, shook her head, counted backward from a hundred. Anything to stay awake but the clock ticked on, mocking her. 12:13 a.m. The room felt colder suddenly, the shadows deeper.....
And then, from the corner near the window, he emerged.
Peterson stepped out of the darkness like he owned it, his wide grin splitting his face under the faint moonlight.
He was dressed in a white plain tee and grey pants. His eyes locked on hers, dark and hungry.
Trinity's breath caught in her throat, her body freezing as she sat up.
"This can't be real," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I'm still awake, right? I haven't closed my eyes."
He chuckled, low and menacing, taking a step closer. "Oh, you're asleep, sweetheart, that's why I'm here. Your desire summons me every single time you drift off. You can't hide from me, even in your dreams."
She shook her head furiously, her hands clenching the sheets. "No. I'm awake. I know I am. You're real.... so how the hell are you sneaking out of Saint Ridge? That place is locked down tighter than a drum."
Peterson's grin widened, his eyes gleaming as he advanced, the bed dipping under his weight as he sat on the edge
"I'm still in Saint Ridge, Trinity. Locked in my cell, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep because of you. But here? In your head? I'm free to do whatever I want."
She opened her mouth to retort, to tell him to get out, but the words died as his hands landed on her thighs.
Rough, calloused palms slid up her bare skin, sending electric shocks through her body.
He pushed her legs apart with ease, positioning himself between them, his body heat enveloping her. Trinity tried to move, to push him away, but his grip tightened, holding her in place.
"Shh," he whispered, his voice sensual, dripping with promise
His fingers traced her inner thighs, inching higher, the touch light but insistent.
The air grew thick, her breathing shallow as he reached her core, rubbing her wet folds through the thin fabric of her shorts. She was soaked already, her body betraying her just like it always did in these "dreams."
A desperate moan slipped from her lips, unbidden and raw. Peterson pulled his hand back, holding up his glistening fingers in the moonlight.
"Look at this," he taunted, his voice laced with triumph. "You say you don't want me, but you're already soaked for me, and I haven't even touched you yet...."
"Shut up," she muttered, her voice breathless.
Before he could say more, she shoved him back onto the bed, climbing on top of him in one fluid motion.
Her hands fumbled with his pants, working to free his bulging erection. It sprang free, thick and hard, veins pulsing under her touch. "This isn't the time to taunt me," she growled, her eyes locked on his as she positioned herself above him. "I'm already sex starved because of you."
Peterson's victorious grin spread wide, his hands gripping her hips. He was about to say something smart, but she lowered herself onto him in one swift move, taking him deep inside her.
They both groaned in unison, the sensation overwhelming. He filled her completely, stretching her in ways that made her eyes water.
She tried to lift, to start moving, but her body needed time to adjust to his size. She sat there, taking deep breaths, her walls clenching around him, the fullness almost too much.
Then she started moving, slow and deliberate, sighing and moaning as she coated his dick with her juice, each roll of her hips sending waves of pleasure through her, the pain mixing with ecstasy in a way that made her head spin.
Peterson groaned beneath her, his hands tightening on her hips. "Fuck, Trinity," he muttered, his eyes halflidded with lust.
He grabbed her harder and slammed up into her, knocking the air out of her lungs.
She gasped, her body jolting
"That's what you get for always talking back at me," he growled, slamming into her again, the force making her cry out. "And that's what you get for having attitudes around me."
She moaned his name, her voice breaking as he set a bruising pace, slamming into her relentlessly.
Each thrust was punishing, filling her completely, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the room. She screamed as the pleasure built, her body vibrating with the approaching orgasm, her nails digging into his chest.
When she was right on the edge, her walls fluttering around him, he stopped abruptly. A murmur escaped her lips, her body protesting the sudden halt. "Peterson," she whined, grinding against him.
He flipped her onto her back in one smooth motion, laying her out beneath him. "Not yet," he said, his voice dark.
He slapped her vagina so hard, the sting sending her over the edge. She screamed, squirting uncontrollably, her body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through her.
Before she could recover, he grabbed her legs and threw them over his shoulders, spreading her wide. He slammed into her again, fucking her into oblivion with a pace that was almost violent. Each thrust hit deep, brushing that spot inside her that made stars explode behind her eyes over and over again
Finally, with a guttural groan, he came, collapsing on top of her, their bodies slick with sweat, breaths mingling in the darkness.
She whispered against his ear, her voice soft but certain, "I know this is not a dream. I'm certain"
Before he could react, she reached under the pillow and grabbed the pen knife she'd hidden there. With a swift motion, she stabbed him in the side and twisting the blade.
Peterson's eyes widened in shock, betrayal and fury flashing across his face. He clutched the wound, blood seeping between his fingers. "You'll regret this," he hissed, his voice laced with pain and rage, before slumping to the side.