When Forever Changed Sides

Bluebell POV A cloak covered my eyes. I could barely see. I could only feel and hear, and somehow, being deprived of sight only seemed to heighten everything else. Every sound felt louder. Every touch seemed sharper. Every sensation travelled through me with an intensity that made heat rush through my body. I was pinned on the bed as he drove further inside me. I screamed and moaned, completely overwhelmed by the sensations. I was blindfolded. I could only feel what he wanted me to feel, and that helplessness pushed me right to the edge. “Deeper!” “Oh God!” “More!” I wailed like a b***h in heat, barely recognizing the sounds coming from my own throat. “Do you like being taken like you're mine?” I stayed silent. Something about the question made my heart pound harder. He pulled his c**k away from my p***y. The sudden emptiness made me instinctively reach out, desperate to pull him back. I held his hips, trying to drag him closer because I needed that burn, needed the feeling that had been consuming me. But he cut me off, striking my cheek with a sudden, stinging slap. It didn't hurt. Not really. If anything, the shock only sent another rush of heat through me, making me crave him even more. “Keep your hands off my dick.” He struck my face again, harder this time. “When I give an order, you submit like the w***e you are.” He spanked my ass, a sharp sting biting into me and sending a spark of heat straight to my core that made me moan out loud. “Looks like you’ve forgotten how to respect this dick.” “No, Daddy,” I sobbed, tears soaking through the cloak. “I’ll be good, I swear.” My voice sounded small even to me. I could feel the tears slipping down my cheeks, but somehow I still couldn't make myself pull away. “Get on your knees and arch your back. Now.” Blinded by my own tears, I moved purely on instinct, forcing my body into position. He positioned his c**k at my lips. I could feel it brushing my lips, and the anticipation alone made my whole body tense. He held me roughly by the hair. “Open up. Wide.” I obeyed blindly as he slid his c**k into my mouth, driven by pure instinct. The rush of it was too much, flooding my chest until tears blurred my vision, soaking through the cloak while I struggled to match his rhythm. Twisting his fingers into my hair, he pinned me under his control, drowning out everything but my low moans. “Look at you. You take every inch of your fiancé, don't you?” “So greedy for me. You won't even let it slip.” “Fuck.” He drove a toy deep into my dripping p***y, ruthlessly forcing my body to adjust to his brutal thrust. “Mine,” he growled, his voice rough, filled with lust and possession. “Look at what I did to you. Used, wrecked, and completely marked for me.” A wrecked sound tore from my throat. I couldn't even form words. The pressure built, tight and agonizing, dragging me right out of my mind. I was in space. I could see stars. Everything around me seemed to disappear. There was nothing but sensation, heat, sound, and the overwhelming feeling that I was completely lost inside the moment. Then his voice cut through the haze, heavy with absolute control. “Look at you,” he growled, a low, dark chuckle vibrating against my skin. “You’re completely undone for me.” He gripped me tighter, his breath against my ear as he increased the pace. “Don’t you dare hold back. c*m for me.” “Now.” The fever dream snapped. My chest heaved as his name ripped out of me. “Wren!” And I bolted upright, chest heaving, choking on thin air. For a second, I had no idea where I was. My heart was still racing, pounding violently against my ribs, and my body hadn't caught up with the fact that I was awake. I blinked a few times, staring around my bedroom before reality finally settled in. The familiar walls. My bed. My room. Reality. “f**k!!!” I screamed. Like, that was one hell of a dream. And the fact that I had been dreaming about Wren made it approximately a thousand times worse. Wren. My actual fiancé. And that was the part that had me staring at the ceiling like my brain had personally betrayed me. Because Wren wasn't like that. Not even close. He wasn't the man from that dream. The possessive, commanding version of him that my subconscious had somehow invented felt like a complete stranger. So why the hell had my subconscious turned him into someone I barely recognized? And out of literally everything my brain could cook up? SEX!!! I'm cooked for real this time. What bothered me the most was that it didn't feel like Wren. Not the Wren I knew. It had been his face, his voice, his name—but somehow, it hadn't felt like him. Wren was the furthest thing from the b**m type, so why the hell was I dreaming about him pinning me down in restraints? Yeah. Hell no. I didn't even want to think too deeply about what that said about me. It wasn't just about s*x. I missed him. That realization softened something inside me. I missed having him around. I missed being able to reach for him whenever I wanted, knowing he was there. I missed his voice, his teasing, the way he could somehow get under my skin and make me smile in the same breath. Even if sometimes he drove me completely insane. I desperately need to get laid. But Wren was stuck all the way in Manchester, and my real life didn't stop just because I was horny. Which was honestly the most inconvenient part. To think it's my dream job. And all I want to do is give a blowjob. Okay. That dream really messed up my brain. Hesitantly, I dragged myself off the bed. My body still felt strangely restless, as though some part of me hadn't completely escaped the dream yet. I looked at my alarm clock. It's past wake-up time. 6:39 a.m. And I had to be at work before 8:30 a.m. All because of a dream that could never come true. “Arrrhhhggg!!!!” I hated this feeling. The frustration. The lingering embarrassment. The fact that my own mind had managed to leave me flustered before I'd even gotten out of bed. I dragged myself towards the standing mirror and just stood there, staring at myself, trying to look past the mess and figure out why I still felt so affected by the dream. My long, straight dark-brown hair was a mess. Typical me. I’m honestly a terrible sleeper. I looked at my skin for a moment. It looked warmer than usual, probably after wet-dream glow. I giggled. I still looked sleepy, though. My eyes still had their sparkle buried beneath the exhaustion. My eyes. Wren's favorite part of me. I don't know what it was about the way he looked at my eyes, but somehow he always made me see them differently. He could spend hours staring at me, completely lost in my brownish orbs. I could feel myself blushing, a faint smile plastering itself across my face. Just thinking about him did that to me. Something caught my attention. The hell!! My lips. They were so swollen, like I had been brutally devoured, not kissed. I touched them lightly, staring at my reflection like it had personally betrayed me. For some reason, seeing them like that made the whole dream feel way too real. My fingers lingered against my lips as I stared at myself, my mind immediately replaying fragments of the dream I had been trying so hard to push away. Do dreams leave prints on people's bodies, or am I hallucinating? As if on cue, a ringtone cut through the silence. I ran to the bedside table. I stared at the screen. The second I saw his name glowing across the screen, the embarrassment from the dream suddenly felt less important. My Wren. My smile spread to its fullest. My Wren called me. Butterflies threw a party in my belly. We had been together for three years, and we would be getting married in six months. Six months. The thought alone made something warm settle in my chest. Somehow, I still got that stupid little rush whenever his name appeared on my screen. Maybe that was how I knew I was still completely gone for this man. He still had an effect on me. And he knew it. I was smiling. I nearly forgot to pick up the call. I picked it up as soon as my senses returned. “Hey, Blue.” “Hi, Mr. Hawthorne.” “Someone is being bratty this morning,” he teased. “And the other is being highly observant,” I countered. “That’s my job.” “You're a neurosurgeon.” “Same thing.” “Besides, how will I be if I wasn't?” “You win.” I eventually gave up. I wasn't winning this. “Always do.” I could hear the grin in his voice. Just hearing him was enough to make my chest feel lighter. As I made my way to the bathtub, the familiar comfort of having him on the other end of the call settled over me. “How was your night's rest?” His voice cut through the silence. I'm sure he waited for me to settle before continuing the conversation. Typical him. He knew what I wanted before I asked. “Hunted by your d**k,” I replied. I could feel my n*****s hardening He chuckled. “That joke.” “It was expensive.” “Joke?” I scoffed. “I don't joke about my favorite candy, you know that.” I lowered myself deeper into the tub, trying not to smile too much. “I guess your dreamy self enjoyed the ride.” “You were mean.” “Was I?” Aaaarrrggg!!!! That man of mine was trying to flirt with me. And judging by the way my stomach fluttered, he was succeeding. “You f****d my throat, not my pussy.” He laughed uncontrollably. But it wasn't annoying. Because his laugh was melody to my ears. There was something about hearing him genuinely laugh that always made me smile, even when he was laughing at me. “I doubt that was me.” “Why will I leave your sexy, creamy hole for your throat?” “Not like you haven't f****d my throat before,” I replied adamantly. “You win.” “Ready for work yet?” I suddenly realized myself and immediately ran out of the tub. He laughed so loudly I wanted it to hurt, but it only made me laugh at my own unprofessionalism. “You didn't lose yourself to the water.” “Did you?” “You know me well.” I instinctively looked at the wall clock. “f**k!!!!” “You okay?” “Yeah, I need to go. It's 7:43.” “I may just lose my job.” “Calm. You will be fine.” “I know.” “I'll call you later.” “You better.” I stared at his name on my screen for a second after the call ended, smiling like an i***t. For a few seconds, I simply stood there, smiling at nothing. Then reality came rushing back. Work. Time. The fact that I was already late. I definitely wasn't thinking about that dream anymore. Definitely not.