Fever Dream

by Annabel Joseph

  She gazed down at him, afraid to breathe, afraid to move.

  “He won’t hurt you,” he whispered, squeezing her hips. “It’s going to feel so good.”

  “It’s too tight. He’s too big. It hurts.”

  “You like to be hurt.”

  Damn him, it was true. “Oh, God,” she cried as Liam pushed deeper. At some unseen signal, Ruby withdrew, lifting her, so she felt both of them moving inside her, one in, one out. The feeling of fullness was shocking, scary. Amazing.

  Liam withdrew as Ruby surged in again. Ohhh… Now that her ass had grown accustomed to Liam’s thick tool, inklings of pleasure began to unfold. With his free hand, Liam reached around to flick and tug her nipples, pressing his hips against her backside. Then he drew out and Rubio drove deep into her sopping pussy. Yes, she was wetter than she’d ever been. Yes, this was the raunchiest thing she’d ever done.

  At first the rhythm was slow and steady, a team effort. They were careful, helping her, manipulating her, and protecting her from harm. But once she got into it, all of them let go. She started moving her hips in rhythm to their thrusts, arching her ass so Liam could bury himself inside her, then clenching her pussy to make Ruby bark with pleasure. After a while, Liam released her hands.

  “Lace them at the back of your neck,” he said. “Keep them out of the way while we fuck you.”

  She obeyed, letting them hold her, manipulate her, pinch her, scratch her, pull her hair as they moved her back and forth. Her pelvis ached with peaking arousal as they worked both her holes. “Oh, please,” she begged. “Please let me come. I’m gonna come.”

  “You can only come with both of us inside you,” Ruby said. “When you’re filled up with both our cocks.”

  Liam pressed against her from behind, bracing his arms on the floor, while Ruby tugged at her nipples, squeezing them until she cried out. She felt trapped between them, conquered and impaled, at the mercy of their masculine will.

  “She’s so tight,” Liam said. “Holy shit.” He made a sound like he was dying. Petra could sympathize. This felt so carnal, so deeply elemental, their cocks driving into her as she ground her hips. Liam paused to finger her clit, tapping it, teasing it. She sucked in a breath and reached down to guide his fingers.

  “No,” he snapped. “Where do your hands belong?”

  With a sob, she made fists and returned them to the back of her neck, wishing to God she could rub herself to orgasm.

  “Do you want him to touch you again?” Ruby asked.

  “Yes, please, I want him to touch me,” she said with a hysterical note in her voice.

  “Ask nice,” he said with a jolting thrust. “Maybe he will.”

  Petra racked her brain for nice words, but all she could come up with was please, do it, now. “Um, uh. Please… Liam, sir, please…”

  “Please play with my pussy while you fuck my ass. Try that,” Ruby said.

  “Please play with my pussy while you fuck my ass,” she repeated eagerly, bucking on their alternating cocks. “Please.”

  Liam made a soft growl of a sound. “How about, Please play with my pussy while you destroy my asshole. Try that.”

  “Hm, good idea,” said Ruby appreciatively.

  “Please…” Petra couldn’t remember anything he’d said. She just wanted to come. “Please…fuck me…destroy me…blow me up with a mine…whatever!”

  Liam grimaced at Ruby. “I think we broke her brain, man. Sorry.”

  Ruby grinned back. “At least her pussy is still working.”

  “Please,” Petra said, squeezing on both of them, teasing her nerves into a frenzy. She was so close to completion, to blessed release. “Oh, God, please.”

  Liam drove deep in her ass, palming her clit at the same time. She jerked against his hand, needing more. He was teasing her on purpose, only giving her so much. If she moved her hips, she could get a bit more sensation. At her sinuous movements, the men each groaned in turn. Ruby’s hands tightened on her hips, then he let go with one hand and licked his thumb, and slid it across her clit in a direct blast of sensation. Now both of them were touching her, teasing her, exploring her wet folds. She threw her head back, banging it against Liam’s chest.

  “Please, please, don’t stop…” Her whole body felt poised to explode.

  “Come on, baby,” Ruby said. “Show us how much you like being fucked.”

  They both drove inside her, so thick, so deep. Her arousal sparked and expanded into something more, a blue-bright flame that broke wide and set her on fire. Her mouth fell open as her body contracted around their cocks, with wave after wave of delicious pleasure. Liam grabbed her from behind, hugging her tight as his own orgasm exploded. A moment later, Ruby’s hands trembled against her skin as he bit out expletives in a mixture of English and Portuguese.

  Oh, God. Thank God. She wouldn’t have survived another minute. Her pussy and ass contracted intermittently for several long moments in the aftermath, each tiny pulse met with hoarse masculine approval. None of them moved beyond the basic needs of resting and breathing. For five minutes, maybe, they laid that way in the middle of the play room floor, with Petra sprawled over Ruby, and Liam hugging her on his knees from behind. She started to drowse, it felt so comfortable. All the energy in her body seemed to have flown in the wrenching explosion of her orgasm.

  Finally, Liam shifted and said softly, “Still alive? Neither of you are moving.”

  “I died,” said Rubio. “Look after Pet for me, okay?”

  Liam squeezed her shoulders. “Can I get you anything, Petra? Some water? A blanket?”

  “I need a shower,” she whispered. “But I don’t think I can walk.”

  Liam eased out of her and helped her totter to her feet, then Ruby swept her up and carried her to the bathroom. The Italian marble shower was big enough for three, and they slipped and slid together, soaping and rinsing each other in a mist of steam. When they got out, the men toweled Petra dry, checking out her welts and bruises. She didn’t speak much during the inspection, only answered their questions and drifted on the feeling of their fingertips against her skin. What was there to say? That was the raunchiest, hottest fuck-fest ever. She’d come like a banshee with two cocks inside her, one of which belonged to her best friend’s husband.

  After that, they collapsed in the bed together, relaxing by the soft light of the play room’s LED candles. Ruby took her speechless catatonia as a compliment to his virility, which it was. “Poor, tired Petra,” he said, brushing her hair back. “Did you really have fun?”

  “I had twenty-five Christmases worth of fun.” She rested her head on his arm as he drew her closer. “Thank you for the unforgettable night.” She turned to Liam, who was flicking through messages on his phone. “You, too, you crazy sadist. Thanks.”

  He smiled. “It was my pleasure, literally. From beginning to end.”

  “Can you remember all of it, to tell Ashleigh?” asked Ruby.

  “She’s going to love it. The end part especially. She’s such a perv.”

  “Poor Ashleigh,” Petra said. “She missed out on all the fun.”

  “It’s not like we can’t do it again.” Liam thought a moment. “We can make it an annual tradition. Mark your calendars. December twenty-fourth.”

  Petra and Ruby exchanged a look. An annual tradition? Sure, if they were still together in a year. They’d be dancing together, certainly…but the rest? Ruby looked away before she did, before she could do the math of how close they’d become if they were still a couple a year from now.

  Liam looked back at his phone, then went still, pausing in the middle of scratching his chest. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

  “What is it?” asked Ruby.

  “Scary Gary has officially left the country as of ten o’clock this evening, with legal restrictions against coming back.”

  Petra stared at him, blinking, trying to process his words. “He’s gone? Paulsen’s gone?”

  “According to my people, he’s flying over

the Atlantic Ocean right now.”

  “You’re sure?” Ruby craned his neck to read Liam’s phone. “You’re sure he left?”

  “My guys saw him get on the plane. He’s gone.” His smile widened. “Congrats, Petra. And Merry Christmas.”

  “Oh my God,” Petra burst out. “Oh my God. Oh my God!” She hugged Liam and Ruby at the same time, in one big, jubilant embrace. “Oh my God. Thank you so much, Liam. This is all thanks to you, to your hard work.”

  “Yes, thanks,” Rubio echoed with a huge smile. “Now we can sleep easier.”

  Petra turned into Ruby’s arms and hugged him tight. No matter how panicked she felt about their increasing closeness, she still cared for him deeply. “I was so worried for you,” she said. “I was so afraid he’d hurt you. I couldn’t have lived with the guilt.”

  “Baby girl,” he whispered. He grabbed a handful of her hair and breathed it in, nuzzling against her neck. “You don’t have to worry anymore. The fucker’s on an airplane. He’s gone.”

  She felt high with happiness and relief, all her exhaustion fallen away into euphoria. “I can hardly believe it.”

  “Believe it,” he said, tracing her silver collar. He leaned to kiss her, a deep, hard, kiss that reclaimed her as his own.

  Chapter Seventeen: Freedom

  Paulsen was gone. No more slipping into cars after work or looking over her shoulder to be sure she wasn’t followed. No more waking up at night, frightened she’d heard a sound in the dark. No more nightmares, hopefully.

  Paulsen hadn’t given up, of course not. Liam warned that her stalker would probably grow angrier, but he could be angry an ocean away from her. Thanks to Liam’s efforts he wasn’t allowed back in the UK, and Petra had no immediate plans to leave London, so everything was okay.

  A couple days after Christmas, she moved back into her old place, even though Rubio asked her to move in with him. “We’ve been living together for weeks,” he said when she balked. But sleeping beside him in Ash and Liam’s forest bed was different, less threatening. It was like sleeping together at a hotel. Moving into his loft was a completely different thing.

  So she waffled. She said she’d consider it later, after the New Years Gala. She threw herself into rehearsals, pushing Rubio to practice the balcony pas de deux over and over, even though, by now, the scene had become their calling card. “We done this one million times,” he groused, but she insisted they keep rehearsing. Avoidance? Probably. Sometimes in practice he stared at her neck, and she knew what he was thinking. But Juliet didn’t wear a collar in the balcony scene, so Petra left it at Rubio’s place, where she still seemed to end up every night.

  Gala night arrived in a flash, a mere week after their sexy Christmas Eve foursome. It was a big, annual fundraising party for City Ballet, and Petra and Rubio were a huge part of it. It was their responsibility to impress the donors and help Yves raise money. Liam and Ash were there too, dressed to the nines. Try as she might, Petra still couldn’t meet Liam’s gaze without a flush spreading across her cheeks.

  Fortunately, there wasn’t any drama or jealousy after the fact. Petra and Ashleigh were closer than ever. They circulated arm in arm at the gala, talking to people they knew, smiling and laughing. Ashleigh pulled her over to some chairs after a while. With the pregnancy, she was getting heavy on her feet.

  “I heard you and Rubio are starting rehearsals for Waking Kiss,” she said as she eased her shoes off.

  Waking Kiss was the first ballet Rubio had choreographed, and it had been inspired by Ashleigh. To this day, only Ash and Rubio had performed it at City Ballet. Petra wrinkled her nose at her friend. “Is it going to feel weird that I’m doing it? You know? Your ballet?”

  “It’s not my ballet, hon. It’s Rubio’s. And no, it won’t feel weird. You two will be beautiful in it, even more beautiful than—” She cut off mid-sentence, stopping Petra with a jerk. “Don’t look. I mean, don’t turn around or anything. Your dad is here.”

  Petra almost turned, but then she didn’t. If he sees me here, he’ll leave. But he had to assume she’d be here. She was the star principal of London City Ballet. Her face was on all the signage and invitations for the event. She looked furtively in the direction Ashleigh indicated. Her father stood in the midst of a group of theater heavy-hitters. Everyone paid court to him, including Yves Thibault. Petr Grigolyuk looked the same as always. Tall, handsome, aristocratic in his tuxedo. He looked so much like her. It was humiliating that he wouldn’t cop to being her dad.

  The same old feelings of shame and worthlessness washed over her. He’d want to be your dad if you were a cooler person. If you were prettier, more interesting, more talented. “I hate him,” she said under her breath. But she kept watching, reluctantly fascinated. She hadn’t been in the same room with him in years now, and certainly not for this long.

  “I hate him too,” said Ashleigh in solidarity. “He’s starting to lose his hair.”

  Petr looked up then, right at her. Immediately his eyes flicked to Ashleigh at her side. He smiled at Ash and turned away. Her friend scowled at the back of his head. “Fuckwad. Total dick. You should walk over there and throw a drink in his face.”

  “No. Yves would probably fire me. Anyway, if he can’t stoop to acknowledge my existence, I won’t acknowledge his.”

  “It’s going to be hard not to acknowledge your existence when you and Rubio take the stage in ten minutes or so.”

  “He won’t watch,” said Petra, even though she felt a pang of nervousness. What if her father did watch? Would he admire her dancing? Would he feel proud? Maybe if she danced well enough, he’d come over and say, I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I don’t know why I ignored you all these years.

  She screwed her eyes shut, fighting the fantasy. She hated that she still clung to that hope after all this time, after all the heartbreak and rejection. Grigolyuk didn’t care about her. He would never love her. She didn’t have a father and that had to be okay.

  Ash touched her arm. “How about if I go throw a drink at him on your behalf? Yves can’t fire me anymore.”

  “Where’s Rubio?” Petra whispered through a numbing haze of pain. She needed Rubio. She needed to get ready to dance. “Here Ash, take this for me?” She shoved her wine glass into her friend’s hand just as Liam came to join them.

  “You okay?” He patted her shoulder in sympathy. “Yves didn’t know he’d be here. He sent me to be sure you’re all right.”

  “I’m perfectly fine,” Petra said with more spirit than she felt.

  Ash made a face. “If that pompous ass crashed this party, they should kick him out. I’ll happily assist the effort.”

  “I don’t think Yves can kick him out,” he said. “Ballet royalty is ballet royalty. Just remember,” he said, pointing at Petra, “he’s not the only legend here.”

  He gave her a smile meant to encourage, to fortify. She loved both her friends for their unwavering support. Liam was right—Grigolyuk wasn’t the only one here with talent and power. She was going to dance the hell out of the balcony pas de deux with Rubio, and her father could choke on it, or walk out if he wanted. She refused to give a fuck anymore.

  “I better head backstage,” she said, lifting her chin.

  “Merde, hon.” Ashleigh gave her a hug, being careful with her makeup and her delicate, flowing costume. “Have fun. You two do Romeo and Juliet better than anyone.”

  God, Petra hoped so. This had to be their very best performance, even if it was just a showcase event. She found Rubio in his dressing room, still doing his makeup. “Where were you?” she asked. “I’ve been out there all by myself.”

  He turned at her sharp tone. “You need my help to walk around and drink champagne? You didn’t have to go out there before the show.”

  “And you didn’t have to hide back here. You’re the lead principal. You should have been out there working the room.”

  He put on a few finishing swipes of shading and straightened, adjusting his gray satin tunic. “And you should watch the way you snap at me, or I’ll spank your naughty ass when we go back to my place.”

  She turned away from him, irritated that he’d try to play with her at a time like this. “I’m not in the mood for that crap right now. We’re supposed to go dance.”

  He blinked at her, once, twice. “What happened to you? What’s wrong? Is Paulsen back?”

  “No. How would he be back?”

  “What then?”

  “It’s my dad. He’s out there.”

  As soon as she spit out the words, a little of her agitation bled away. Rubio unruffled too, his pinched features transforming into an expression of understanding. “Oh, no. What did he say to you?” he asked, taking her hand. “If he talked bad to you, I’ll punch him in the face.”

  “He didn’t talk bad to me. He wouldn’t even look at me. I don’t care though. I’m just annoyed that he’s here.” Ruby tilted her chin until he caught her gaze, but she pulled away from him. She didn’t want his soul-searching, not tonight. She looked pointedly at the clock. “We’re supposed to go on at ten-thirty. Are you ready?”

  “Do I look ready?” He bent to brush a whisper of a kiss across her lips. He was ever mindful of her makeup, ever mindful of everything. He really was the world’s best partner and she shouldn’t have taken her irritation out on him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said against his cheek. “I’m sorry I was snappy with you.”

  “You can make it up to me later. You come sleep over tonight, yes?”

  Petra didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure. Seeing her father had brought up a bunch of prickly, angsty feelings, and for some reason they were transferring to Rubio. She was annoyed with his confidence and sexual innuendos, his assumption she’d be there in his bed wearing his pretty silver pet collar whenever he wanted. As she stood at the balcony as Juliet, watching for Romeo’s entrance, she imagined a future gala, where Rubio stood like a king, like her father, worshipped and revered in his fancy tuxedo.

  Where would she be? At his side? Or at home, aging and forgotten, bitterly reminiscing about her ephemeral career?

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