Page 23 of Want Me, Take Me, Haunt Me, Make Me

“We’re all very impressed,” said a low voice in the darkness. It laughed. “Well. Strictly speaking, some of us are annoyed.”

At first, the voice itself filled Hazel’s awareness, though she was still too close to unconsciousness to make out many details. Then she realized that she was lying down on her side and the room was dark, which meant she had to be dreaming, since there was no way in hell she’d have turned the light out.

She’d fallen asleep.

If the hand was still outside her door, she’d be helpless.

As her muscles tensed with alarm, a hand came down lightly on her shoulder. “It’s gone,” said the voice. “Those tricks take too much strength to keep going.”

For some reason, Hazel believed it, even though she had no idea who was talking. She started to turn over for a better look, but she couldn’t quite manage to move. “Best not,” the voice said, and Hazel felt slim fingers slide up her neck, stroking her hair back behind her ear. “I’ve no intention of hurting you. Not here and now.”

That was very specific, she thought, but she didn’t feel half the fear she should have. She supposed it was a dream thing.

Her visitor perched on the side of her bed behind her, a solid presence that also could have been menacing but was ridiculously comforting instead. She heard a quiettsk. “Such a waste, really. Nobodyexpected you to be doing so well for this long. I confess I’m eager to see your next move.” Their fingers moved down, tracing the line of her jaw around to her chin and leaving a train of tingling warmth.

Hazel caught her breath at the feeling, then widened her eyes in shock when it rippled downward, tightening her nipples and pooling between her legs.

Am I really getting turned on by my sleep paralysis demon?

She didn’t know if that was the correct designation, butturned onwas accurate. Now she felt the soft fabric of her nightshirt brushing against her breasts with every inhalation. The seam of her boxers made itself known as well, a light pressure that she still couldn’t ignore.

“Oh,” said the stranger. Their voice deepened, surprised and amused, and they stroked their thumb down her throat to her collarbone. “Isthatthe state you’re in?”

If Hazel had been able to speak, she might have tried denial, but she doubted it would have done any good. Not when her breathing had hitched again at the thought and her thighs had squeezed together. Apparently she could move just enough to embarrass herself.

“Youarea surprising creature.” The visitor’s fingers traveled lower, across the upper slope of Hazel’s breast, then brushed over the rigid peak pushing at her shirt. Melting pleasure spread out just from the faint contact, and she felt a sudden rush of dampness against that agitating boxer seam.

The stranger cupped her breast more firmly, circling her nipple with their thumb. “And a very responsive one.” The bed shifted under them as they bent down, breath hot against her ear. “Even when you’re helpless. Or perhaps, especially.”

It seemed like the moment for a witty answer, but she couldn’t think of one. She couldn’t even think ofananswer. Her brief forays into kink had been fun, but nowhere near as overwhelming. Then again, her near-immobility under the stranger’s touch went way beyond padded handcuffs, well past what would be reasonable or safe outside her own dreams.

All she knew was that she needed more.

“Then again,” her visitor murmured, as their hand continued its tantalizing work, “how helplessareyou, really? You might not be as…active…as normal, but I suspect you could let me know if you truly wanted me to stop. Am I wrong?”

Naturally, she couldn’t reply one way or another, and low laughter winged out into the darkness. The stranger pinched her nipple very lightly. “Let’s see. I already know that you can move a bit. I’d know even if you weren’t trying to rub yourself against your own clothing, poor tormented creature.”

Hazel’s face went hot clear to her ears. That didn’t stop another rush of moisture at her core, though, or another involuntary, minute rock of her hips.

“So, then. I’ll count to five. If you make no effort to turn over, I’ll cease my attentions. If you try, I’ll go on. I’d like a more extensive canvas, anyhow.” The visitor spoke with utter confidence. Their hand went still on her breast for just a moment. “One.”

She sucked in a breath.

“Two.”

Unfulfilled desire broke through her paralysis, whatever it was. Before the stranger could get to three, Hazel was throwing herself over onto her back, the motion about as graceful as a fish in a bucket. She didn’t care. All that mattered was that she was on her back, she’d given the signal, and now she was spread out for the stranger’s pleasure and her own.

As they laughed again, she tilted her head back, looked up…

…and met a pair of glowing red eyes.

* * *

Hazel snapped awake to midmorning light flooding the room, the knife clutched in her hand, and her entire body aching with lust.

“Thatdidn’thappen,” she told the empty room.

She didn’t mean the hand. The hand had been terrifying, but she didn’t have the luxury of denial. Dreams where she eagerly offered herself to the red-eyed thing outside her window, who might very well have been the demon she’d stabbed…oh, denial seemed like averyappropriate solution.