Dance with the Devil: Chapter 10

I startle awake and look around the room, panicking briefly when I see a man looming near the door.

Not any man.

Dr. Kincaid.

No shirt, just those same sweatpants.

And that same vacant look as last time.

I inhale a shaky breath. “Dr. Kincaid?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he cracks his neck and curls his fists before slowly walking over to me. It’s eerie because he’s not looking at me—he’s completely unseeing, and yet he moves as though he can see. From what I know of sleepwalking, it’s easy to appear awake sometimes if the person is familiar with the layout of the room. His eyes are open—but there’s nothing behind them.

My heart is pounding against my ribs as he stalks closer. I’d worn the same thing to bed as last night—a cami and a pair of underwear. My nipples harden as I take in his tented sweatpants, as I remember how it felt to lie underneath him and be pressed down into the mattress with his hand around my neck.

Once he’s close, I sit up, lean forward, and touch his abdomen. He jerks back, and for a second I think I’ve woken him because he just stands there.

“Are you awake?” I ask quietly. Tentatively.

He doesn’t answer, but before I can ask another question, he lurches forward and slams a hand around my neck. I sputter and gasp as he pushes me onto my back. It’s only then that he relaxes his grip around my tender throat. I’m nearly gasping for air, and I lift my hips slightly, canting them with wanton need.

“Dr. Kincaid,” I whisper.

He looks down at me—not at me, per se, but somewhere near my face. Then he lets go and walks to the foot of the bed. I lie still as he stands there, anticipating his next move. Every single nerve inside of me is on fire, and as he wraps a hand around my ankle, I whimper.

Pulling me roughly to the foot of the bed, he drops down to his knees again and like last night, he places one of my legs over his shoulder. I buck my hips, needy and ready.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I enjoying this?

Hooking one finger around the seam of my underwear, he drags the pink, cotton material down my hips, discarding it off to the side. Then, he leans forward and laves his tongue down my slit once.

I groan loudly as a smattering of pleasure claws down my spine.

He pulls back slightly, and I move my hips up with desperation. God, I’m taking advantage of him at this point…

His free hand comes to my wet seam and he slides a finger in, hooking it roughly inside of me. I whine and move to get the friction that I need, and then he adds another finger—moving them inside of me and thrusting with pure abandon.

His thumb presses down on my clit, and I come almost instantly. I’m so worked up—I must’ve been dreaming about him because I woke up aroused. He adds a third finger, stretching me as he begins to pant, and that’s when I lose all control. Something inside of me releases—a forceful, sudden blow, like all of my energy is condensed into this one spot—and I come. I clench around his fingers and silently scream as stars explode in my vision. He doesn’t stop his forceful intrusion until I’m clawing at his hand, begging him to stop.

He pulls his hand out and for a second, I think I see him pocket something, but before I can determine what in the world he’d be pocketing, he stands up and looms over me, palming his erection.

“Wake up,” I tell him half-heartedly.

He cocks his head, and for a split second, I think he has woken up. But his expression remains stoically calm as he reaches forward and flips me onto my stomach.

“Fuck,” I mumble into my sheets.

I feel him pull my hips up, and just as one hand fists my ponytail, wrapping it around his hand, something warm and thick slides between my thighs.

“Oh god,” I moan.

He tugs my head back, causing me to arch my back almost unnaturally. The sting of him pulling my hair only enhances everything, and the next thing I know, he’s pushing inside of me.

I don’t realize how sore I am until he’s fully sheathed inside of me. He lets out a low, desperate growl and tugs my hair harder. The soreness doesn’t abate—it feels like my pelvic bones are bruised, and I wince as he pulls out and slams in hard.

“Fuck, it hurts⁠—”

He does it again, hissing with pleasure each time. From this angle, I feel his balls slap into me with each thrust, and then his free hand comes around to my sore clit.

The sore feeling abates slightly, and soon, the stinging, aching feeling causes everything to draw up tight inside of me. My eyes roll back as I quickly cross from pain to pleasure and back again as he fucks me ruthlessly. I’ve never had sex like this, but I’m beginning to learn that the pain makes everything feel better. The sting of each thrust, the ache of him burying himself deep inside of me, the hurt… it spreads through my nerves like a numb fire, and then everything goes tense. But once it goes away… I’m filled with pleasure.

Every drive into me—every low, frantic groan that escapes his lips relights the pleasure. Soon, everything pulls tight before exploding into a bright, white light.

I cry out and claw at the sheets, a mixture of pain and pleasure firing through me at lightning speed. My toes curl and my heart slows—it feels like it nearly stops—as my whole world bends into this moment. It’s further enhanced when Dr. Kincaid grips my ass and pulls me roughly onto his cock several times before holding himself deep inside of me and roaring with his climax.

His cock pulses inside of me, brushing against my cervix as warmth floods me. I can feel his pleasure—it’s hot and crazy all at once, like we’re sharing the same nerve endings somehow. My thighs are shaking. I let my upper body fall onto the bed, closing my eyes and going limp in case he wakes up.

Except… he doesn’t. Instead, he flips me onto my back.

I yelp and stare up into his eyes, which are empty and unseeing.

He’s still asleep…

He pulls my hips up and impales me again. I cry out and reach for his bare chest, running my hand over his muscled abdomen. His still-hard cock plunges in and out of me, and I can feel his cum leak out of me with every movement. I gasp when one hand comes to my throat, tightening his grip and causing my vision to go blurry.

“I—can’t—breath⁠—”

He grips me tighter, and black spots appear in my peripheral vision. Dr. Kincaid growls, growing more aggressive as he fucks me. He uses his other hand to maneuver one of my knees higher so that he can go deeper, and I claw at his hand so that I can get some air.

He relents, and oxygen floods my system… and it completely sets off another orgasm.

I come so hard that I black out, wave after wave of pleasure clawing through me in quick succession. Dr. Kincaid’s cock swells inside of me before he groans and collapses on top of me, jerking his hips as he empties inside of me a second time. I close my eyes and moan. Like before, I can feel his orgasm—like we’re connected by some sort of thread—but before I can come again, he goes completely still and his breathing changes.

My eyes are already closed, so when he quickly pushes up and pulls out of me, I let my raised knee fall to the side, giving him a full view of the mess he made of me. Twice.

Like last night, he’s quiet for a minute—watching me or coming to, I’m not sure. But then he gently replaces my underwear, pulls the duvet back over my body, and quietly closes my bedroom door.

Once I’ve waited a couple of minutes, I start to tremble from the adrenaline rapidly leaving my body.

Everything below my waist is sore—from my pussy to my thighs to my clit. It’s pulsing in that delicious, overused way, but everything that happened was so intense that I feel sort of in a daze. Like I’m dreaming, or flying, or something not altogether conscious.

Shaking in earnest now, I give it a few more minutes before I get up and walk to the bathroom on wobbly legs.

Just like last night, Dr. Kincaid is sleeping soundly in his cot.

A small part of me is glad he’s able to sleep so easily after fucking me when he’s asleep, but a bigger part of me agonizes over the fact that he… doesn’t seem to care.

That he can rest easy afterward.

As I pee, I tell myself that it’s not because I want him to cuddle me or tell me sweet nothings. I just want him to acknowledge that he wants me, consciously. Not while he’s asleep.

He has to know I’m not asleep afterward. There’s no other explanation for why he’d jeopardize his entire career and life over it. He knows I know—and he’s trying to break me.

After I clean myself up, I climb back into bed and fall asleep. I’m too thoroughly exhausted not to. When I wake up at half eight, Dr. Kincaid is gone, but there’s a note on the bathroom mirror.

Take the morning off. Luncheon at 12.

It’s not until I take a shower after ordering room service and think more about last night that something catches in the back of my mind. He pulled something out of me, didn’t he? I check myself for my birth control ring.

It’s gone.

Dr. Kincaid removed it.

That’s what he pocketed.

And the worst part is… I can’t find any reason to care.