Fever Dream by Annabel Joseph Read Free Book Online Page A

a bitch to him, she supposed. She couldn’t help it. He scared her, he endangered her. He could destroy her if he wanted to.
    He doesn’t want to destroy you, you uptight little bitch.
    He wrenched her hair so she swayed on her knees, rattling the shackles. He forced her to take him deeper in her throat, but then the dark walls began to waver like a desert mirage.
    “That’s a good little slut,” he crooned. “Suck me, yes. Just like that.”
    Her mouth ached. He was too big and it was hot in the dungeon, so hot. She felt frustrated that she couldn’t make him come. Then a shrill bell sounded. It was some kind of alarm to signify that she wasn’t really kinky, that she’d never done BDSM before. Rubio scowled down at her, shaking his head in disappointment. He was disappearing, fading into thin air. “No,” she cried. “I’m sorry. Don’t leave me. I need you.”
    Again, the shrill alarm bell. No, not an alarm bell, the phone. She came awake and dived to answer her cell on the bedside table.
    “Hello?”
    “Good morning, Miss Hewitt. Just letting you know there’s a delivery for you at the front desk.”
    “Okay, thanks.”
    She blinked down at the display and then at the clock. It was almost nine in the morning and she was lying in bed having revolting sex dreams about Rubio. Ugh. She threw off the covers and headed to the bathroom to shower. She was sweaty and aroused, like she was infected with some kind of fever. Rubio fever. The cool water ran through her hair and over her shoulders, relaxing her by slow degrees until she came to full wakefulness.
    What in holy fuck was up with that dream? She’d been dreaming about Fernando Rubio for a week now, ever since they’d begun working together, ever since she’d learned he was a kinky pervert, but that was the most depraved one yet. The wavy melting walls and his ever-growing cock, and the way Rubio had talked to her... He wasn’t exactly a gentleman at the theater but he never called her a bitch or slut, at least not to her face, and certainly not with that edge of sexual menace.
    She’d been browsing too many BDSM sites, that was the problem. She’d been curious. Maybe too curious. She touched her throat, remembering the firm feel of his hands on her neck. He used the same firm touch when he danced with her. Strong, capable, with the threat of great force or great tenderness.
    What did she want? Force or tenderness?
    Ugh, these stupid thoughts. Damn the front desk for waking her up. She dressed for work, throwing street clothes over her leotard and tights. Her alarm blared to life and she silenced it. Yep, already up. Thanks. She liked her new building, because it had a doorman and good security, and a lobby with marble floors. She looked around her neat and spacious “flat.” It was a great, old, oddly shaped space with high ceilings and textured walls. The only reason it was so neat was because she’d barely unpacked anything yet.
    Tonight. Tonight she would unpack, before the season started in earnest and things got crazy busy. The premiere was next week and the London arts scene was buzzing with excitement. She and Rubio had posed for professional photos in their Romeo and Juliet costumes, for the publicity department to use on posters and advertisements all over town. They’d done interviews and profiles for TV news programs, during which Rubio was faultlessly polite. They’d even managed to stay out of the tabloids, aside from a few candids outside the theater. In one of them, Ruby had been holding the door for her, his head thrown back in a laugh. She remembered that day because they’d happened to be leaving at the same time, and joked about who got to take the company-hired car. He’d suggested they share the ride, and she’d said she was afraid to be alone in the back of a car with him.
    She kept a copy of the picture in the drawer beside her bed, because she liked the way they looked in the photo. It was something about their body