The Ritual: A Dark College Romance

CHAPTER TWENTY

BLAKELY

“MATT?” I SHOVE his shoulder.

“What?” he mumbles, eyes still closed.

“Get up, babe.” I kiss his chest. “I want to play around.”

“Blakely …” He opens his eyes and checks his cell on my dresser next to my bed. “It’s after midnight.”

“I know.” I get up and straddle his hips. Lifting his hands, I place them on my boobs. “I just had this dream.”

“Oh, yeah?” He chuckles, his hands squeezing my breasts on his own. “Must have been good? What did we do?”

“Well, I was jogging—”

“On that trail I tell you to stay the fuck away from?” He interrupts me.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I was running, and a man was following me. He said he had been watching me.” I grind my pussy on his dick. I can feel how hard it is through his boxers. He won’t fuck me, but we do other things. My body is craving sex. So bad. I don’t know how much longer I can wait. “Anyway, when I went to run away, he chased me down and tied my hands behind my back, and dragged me into the trees …”

His hands drop from my chest. “What?”

I wave off his concerned tone. “I wanted it. There was just something about it. I was …”

“You dreamed you were raped?” he snaps.

I bite my bottom lip nervously. My heart accelerates and shoulders sag.

“Jesus, Blakely. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?” He glares up at me.

“You?” I ask, looking at him through my lashes.

“Yeah. Me.” He shoves me off him and gets out of bed. “If some guy decides he wants to rape you, you’re going to let him. And get off on that shit.”

I’ve had this dream ever since I was fifteen. And at first, I was disgusted with myself. Why would anyone dream and get turned on by something like that when people have experienced something so traumatic in real life? “Lots of women have forced-sex fantasies,” I argue. After the fifth time I had this dream, I started doing research, and I found I wasn’t alone.

They call it forced-sex fantasy because rape implies violence. And for women who fantasize about this—it’s the fact that someone wants them so much, they can’t help themselves. Can’t take no for an answer. It’s more of the domination aspect of it.

He snorts, yanking up his jeans. “Please. No one asks to be raped, Blakely.”

I flinch. “Just because I have a fantasy doesn’t mean I want it to happen in real life. To me. To anyone for that matter.” The studies I found said that those who fantasize about it are the most erotically open and adventurous. I’m neither one of those things because I’m still a virgin. I think I have this dream because I want him to take me. I want him to dominate me, but he turns me down every time.

I think I dream about it happening on that trail because he has warned me about it not being safe. And somehow, I’ve connected the two.

He pulls his shirt down over his head and looks down at me. His lip is pulled back, and he shakes his head with disgust. “That’s fucking sick, Blakely. You’re fucked up.” And with that, he leaves my room, slamming the door behind him.

Ryat lays me on the bed, and I roll away, unable to face him right now. I hear him removing his jeans and T-shirt before he crawls in behind me.

The bed dips as he gets in. “Blake.” He places his hand on my shoulder and rolls me back to face him. “There is nothing wrong with you,” he says, running his fingertips along my cheek to push my hair off my tear-streaked face.

I swallow and try to calm my breathing. “It’s wrong,” I whisper. After that, I told myself that I’d never have that dream again, and if I did, I’d fight, scream, bite, and run faster. But I did none of those things this time. I let him catch me, and I was going to enjoy it if I hadn’t woken up too soon.

“No, it’s not,” he argues. “It’s just a fantasy. Everyone has those. And that’s normal.”

“It’s not the violence I crave,” I tell him honestly. “Although I like it rough, I think it’s more of the idea of a man being so overcome with desire for me that he can’t be stopped. And the fact I have no say over what he does. The feeling of having no control makes me feel in control. I let him catch me even though I run. I let him do it even though I fight him,” I ramble, trying to get it all out. Matt didn’t want to hear how I felt, and he never mentioned it again.

Ryat’s eyes search mine, and I look away, again feeling shame.

“I know, it sounds stupid,” I whisper.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“It’s just hard to explain.” I lick my wet lips.

“I think it makes perfect sense.”

Biting my bottom lip, I add, “I think the man was you.”

He adjusts himself on his side and props his head up in his hand. “Why is that?”

“Because up until now, he’s never had a face.” It’s just always been a blur. Or I just never remembered it when I woke up.

“And you saw me this time?” he asks, his green eyes searching my face. He doesn’t look disgusted in the least with what I just told him.

“No. He was wearing a mask. The same one you have,” I answer softly. I’ve only ever seen Ryat wearing the mask that one night at the house of Lords party, and at that time, I didn’t even know it was him.

He sighs, his free hand lazily running up and down on my arm, “Well, after what we did at the house of Lords party, when I had a mask on ... then you were unconscious when I touched you here in your apartment … I can see that. It makes sense you’d put me in this guy’s place. I’ve dominated you. And that’s what you like.”

My cheeks flush, and he cups my face. “It’s okay, Blake. You’re okay. And I’d be more than willing to give you what you want.”

My heart picks up at his words, my eyes widening. “What do you mean?”

“Tell me what you want, along with your limits, and I’ll do it. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“You mean my fantasy?” I ask slowly.

He nods.

My thighs clench at the thought. So many possibilities. Scenarios. I’ve only ever had that same one over and over. “I’ll think about it,” I tell him, still a little uncomfortable talking about it. I’m not sure I will feel okay telling him what I want. Or what I think I want. I’m not even sure what it is exactly.

RYAT

I KISS HERforehead and pull her body into mine. I’m not going to lie to her, but her fantasy turns me on. I had a feeling she’d like being dominated, but this is a fantasy on a whole new level. One that I’m more than happy to fulfill for her.

Matt is pathetic and knows nothing when it comes to sex. Three years without it and the bastard didn’t do any research? He never once thought that maybe his girlfriend was craving something that he should look into?

No woman asks to be raped—it’s a fantasy about submission. She wants to be dominated in way that she knows she’ll enjoy it. It’s the act of the coercion.

I’m not sure when the dreams started and I’m no sex psychologist, but maybe it was the fact that Matt turned her down so many times that she had to force herself to enjoy what her body craved. I mean, I loved when she drank the GHB and gave herself over to me, not knowing what I was going to do to her. Hell, she even thought I actually took her virginity at the time.

To her, that was a way of giving herself over to something that she knew she wouldn’t be able to control. But it was still her choice.

Matt tried to rape our assignments wife, but he put Blake down for fantasizing about it? That doesn’t make any sense. Although one is nothing like the other. He told her she was fucked up? I know Lords who prefer to watch other men fuck their chosens. I’d never allow that but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong. Fuck, maybe it means I’m insecure, and that’s completely fine. That’s my issue, not anyone else’s. Who the fuck cares? As long as all parties are consenting, then do whatever the fuck you want.

Pulling my chest away from her face, I look down to see her eyes closed and lips parted, she’s back asleep. Running my hand through her soft hair, I wonder what she’s dreaming about right now. Me and her? Back on that trail in the woods?

I want her to see me with the mask off and know that it’s fucking me giving her exactly what she wants. If she wants to role play, then I’ll play along. She can give me as much or as little. Doesn’t matter, I have an imagination, and I’ll make sure she likes whatever I come up with.

I snuggle her back into me, and I close my eyes, thinking a little forced-sex fantasy dream sounds pretty fucking good right now.