The night pressed down heavy and strange. Sleep didn't come gently—it dragged me under, a current too strong to fight.
And in that current, I was there again.
Standing in the dim hallway, barefoot, the world humming in silence. My fingers brushed against the doorframe of Mara's room—half-open, a breath of light spilling through the crack. And there she was.
Mara.
Her back turned, her hands trembling as she slipped out of her blouse. The soft rustle of fabric felt deafening in the quiet. Then I saw it—the faint white lines, scars trailing across her shoulder blades, down her sides. Not random, not fresh—ancient stories carved into skin.
She didn't see me, but I could feel her pain, the way her breath hitched as she looked into the mirror, eyes red, tears clinging to her lashes. She pressed her palms to her reflection, whispering something I couldn't hear.
And suddenly, the dream cracked open—images flashing like lightning.
Another time. Another body.
Her crying again, but older.
My hand reaching out.
My voice saying, "I love you. I've always loved you. And I'll find you again."
Then darkness.
I jolted awake, heart pounding, drenched in sweat. My sheets tangled around me like vines, my breath catching on the edge of panic. It took me a second to realize I wasn't alone.
Mara was beside me.
Her face turned slightly toward me, her breathing soft, steady. The faintest smile ghosted across her lips, like she was lost in a sweeter dream than mine.
My first thought wasn't fear—it was confusion. When had she come in? How long had she been here?
And then came the heat. That dangerous, familiar ache that made my pulse stumble. She was close—too close—and the moonlight kissed the curve of her shoulder, her bare skin glowing pale and unreal.
I froze. Every part of me screamed to move, to look away, to not feed the hunger clawing at my chest. But my eyes betrayed me. I watched the slow rise and fall of her magnificent breast, the quiet vulnerability of her sleep, and her erect nipples… oh heavens those nipples.
She looked nothing like the composed woman she showed the world. She looked… human. Breakable. And it did something to me.
I leaned closer without meaning to, caught between tenderness and torment. Every inch of her was a reminder of last night's restraint, of the tension we never named but always carried. My mouth found its way to her perfect nipples and I sucked on them like my life depended on it. My hand moved around her body like it knew every intention of her.
Then—just for a moment—her hand brushed mine in her sleep. Soft, unintentional. But it sent a shiver through me like a promise unspoken. I continued to suck on those nipples with my eyes closed just trying to lock this moment. I opened my eyes to look at her and she bit her lips, how did I find that attractive?
I didn't stop, my mouth and tongue went on and on as my fingers found its way to where they belong on her body. God demn!, she was already dripping on my sheets. If felt wrong in every way touching her, but the kind of pleasure I derive when I see her reactions to my touch makes me want to never stop this sin. I dipped one finger into her so deep that she let out the
loudest moan, but I did not care, mom had gone on a business trip and the servants were in their quarters far from the mansion.
My finger went in and out of her, I watched her whimper like a baby but that didn't stop me, my fingers felt numb, but looking at her laying pretty on that bed, how could I stop.
I bent over and sucked on her nipples again and this time around she went full crazy, she pressed my head hard on her breast and I as well did not let go, I sucked on them and my tongue went in circles around her nipples while my hand went deep into her.
I did not stop until I was satisfied with my meal.
I sat there for what felt like forever, staring at her, the dream still echoing in my head. The scars. The tears. The words.
What was that dream trying to tell me?
That this—whatever bound us—was more than physical?
That it was old, ancient, unfinished?
I didn't have answers. Only the terrifying certainty that no matter how far I ran, fate had a way of circling back.
And right now, it was lying beside me. Breathing softly. Whispering my undoing in every rise and fall of her chest.