◤𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕒𝕞𝕪◢ - It Started With Vomit!

Chapter 25: Arousing Nightmares

* * *

Every touch of his fingers on her taut skin grazed her soul with torturous splurges of pleasure, eliciting throaty moans as a reward. Heaven and hell stirred within her, rendering Amy's mind numb with incredulous ecstasy and a slight suspicion that this was all a fabrication of the mind—the fourth in a series of its many sultry, enticing assaults.

"Shadow... nghh... more, please." Good God, how she prayed it wasn't. He was simply too tantalizing... rich... nude... straddling her whilst sinfully purring her name more times than she'd ever heard it in her entire life. Even the shade of the room couldn't hood the hedgehog's bewitchment: long, sable quills projecting out of his sinuous spine, vermilion eyes drunk on hunger and euphoria, which in turn produced the sultry rush of blush riling a fever below his creamy, tan skin.

"Fuck, Rose." 

Her body poured deeper into his primitive embrace as she began marking him with missive love notes before taking his mouth in hers. God, he really was all hers for the taking.

Shadow reciprocated in full; tasting slowly at first, then with renewed vigour, probing the sweetness of her lips, tongue, and cheeks while allowing her to set the pace, the reckless kisses eventually trailing down to suckle at her hardening buds before reluctantly pulling away upon sensing a pinnacle.

"Rose, w-wait—" a crack formed in his voice. But she remained staunched in passion, forcing a conflicted plea from his lips. "Please," his face scorched from suppressed release, kindling a backwards pleasure felt intensely in her intransigent stare. "Stop, please."

"Stop huddling beneath the sheets, you lazy whore!" 

The voice of a petit (irritating) child—coupled with a heavy assault to the head inflicted by something Amy safely assumed was a pillow—drew her out from the chilling dream she was having.

In fact, "dream" is a kinder substitute. Merely short of an understatement. What Amy had been experiencing were horrifying and unrelenting nightmares.

With a panic-ladened chest, she launched upright, planting both her hands to the screaming melody sounding from her laboured midriff. A gratuitous amount of air pulled in an out of her lungs in a repeated, protracting rhythm. But never quite enough to relax the rapid incubation of lust building up in both the physical and intangible parts of her body.

Pure mortification: that was what Amy expected to feel this (fourth) time around, after having experienced vivid, sensual wet dreams of Shadow Hedgehog since their arrival in Monaco, but she was unapologetic. Too unremorseful to a point it scared her.

Amy wanted to beat herself up for it. She wanted to scream, jump from a bridge, or run into the dead-center of a busy highway rather than repeat (and enjoy) perpetual dreams pertaining to Shadow Hedgehog. She was even willing to abrogate their contract and pay for the consequences dearly if it meant being set free from everything Shadow-related. 

"Are you going to sit there, staring at a blank wall all day?"

"Zip it," she ordered, wanting so badly to talk to someone—anyone!—about these unsettling feelings. But she couldn't bring herself to admit any affection towards someone so petty he's refused to relinquish his cold-shoulder streak as if it was going to earn him a spot on the Guinness Book of World Record; a position he could readily buy if he so wanted.

"Don't talk to me that way!" Another pillow came hurling through the air, crashing into Amy's saliva-crested lips and sleep-crusted eyes. "If you don't watch yourself, I'll expose all your evil-doings to father when he gets back!"

That does it.

"Kayden," Amy crawled out of bed, putting on a fake, manufactured smile whose authentic version is wielded only by the warmest, loving goddesses called mothers.