Chapter 176: Vivid dream 2.0

Chapter 176: Chapter 176: Vivid dream 2.0

The golden dusk had settled over the quiet stretch of highway on the way to East Junction, painting the empty road and surrounding fields in deep shades of amber and violent purple. The car engine had sputtered to a dead stop twenty minutes ago, leaving them completely stranded. No gas stations in sight, no open establishments—just the vast, silent twilight framing the two of them.

Damian sat in the driver’s seat, pressing his phone to his ear as he waited through another series of dead-end dials.

Vivienne sat right beside him in the passenger seat. Without a word, she leaned across the center console, her slender hand reaching up to gently slide the phone away from his ear and set it down on the dashboard.

Damian frowned, looking at her in confusion. "Why? Is there something wrong?"

She met his gaze with a soft, captivating intensity, her lips curving into a sweet, coaxing smile. "Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted some time alone with you. Where we don’t have to go anywhere, or do things for the foundation... I just want to spend time with you."

Before he could respond, she unbuckled her seatbelt and shifted smoothly over the center console into his lap. She swung her legs on either side of his thighs, straddling him completely in the tight confines of the driver’s seat. Her skirts pooled around them as she settled her weight flush against his hips.

Damian gasped, his hands instinctively catching her waist. The sudden, intimate press of her body sent a sharp, electrifying jolt straight down his spine. His cock came to life instantly, swelling into a rigid, heavy throb beneath his trousers, straining desperately against her heat.

Vivienne leaned in close, bringing her forehead gently against his. She bit her lower lip, her blue eyes searching his with a shy, irresistible sweetness.

"Damian..." she whispered, her warm breath fanning over his lips. "I like you."

It felt so extraordinarily real—the scent of her skin, the heavy heat between them, the quiet rustle of the evening light. But he had lived through variations of this dream a dozen times before. He knew the pattern. He knew the script.

And this time, he wasn’t going to hold back.

Reaching down, he clamped his hands firmly around her hips and lifted her slightly, pulling her down hard so that her core pressed directly against the broad tip of his raging manhood through their clothes.

He groaned at the sheer friction, his dark gaze locking onto hers. "You feel that?" he rasped, his voice rough with raw, unvarnished desire. "That’s how much I like you, too."

He didn’t wait for her to reply. Damian pulled her face down and claimed her mouth, diving into a deep, desperate, consuming kiss. His tongue parted her lips, tasting her fully, tangling with hers in an intoxicating rhythm. Vivienne let out a soft, shuddering moan against his mouth, her fingers tangling into his hair, and Damian let out a guttural groan of pure surrender, burying himself in the pleasure of finally having her.

And then, with a jarring snap, the scene violently rewound and shifted.

The passionate warmth of their kiss shattered instantly. The reality spun backward like a snapped film strip, snapping them back to a colder, distant moment—except Damian could still feel the excruciating physical heat between his legs, his body still trapped in the heavy, throbbing rhythm of their almost copulation while the world around him fractured.

Vivienne was no longer clinging to him. She was already straightening her dress, her posture polite, her eyes looking past him out the windshield as if that blistering moment between them had never happened.

"Damian, look! There’s a car outside," she said, her voice entirely light, stripped of all the raw intimacy from a second ago. A wide, bright smile bloomed across her face. "Oh, Christopher is here!"

Damian blinked, his lungs burning, his mind reeling as his body still throbbed desperately against hers. Christopher?

"I texted him earlier," she added blithely, smoothing down her skirt.

Damian stared at her in a daze, unable to reconcile the intense, agonizing arousal raging through his lower body with the sudden, icy distance in her voice. He couldn’t even remember her taking out her phone.

Without another glance at Damian, Vivienne unlocked the passenger door and slid out into the cooling dusk.

Damian sat frozen in the driver’s seat, his chest heaving, his body heavy and aching with a violent, unfulfilled need. Through the windshield, he watched as a slick black car pulled up along the shoulder.

Christopher Archibald stepped out into the twilight.

Vivienne hurried toward him, her laughter echoing lightly in the quiet air. She threw her arms around Christopher’s arm, hugging him tight, leaning her head against his shoulder with an easy, natural affection that made Damian’s chest seize in absolute agony.

She turned back for just a split second, raising a slender hand to wave cheerfully at Damian through the glass. Then, she slid into the passenger seat beside Christopher. The engine revved, and they drove off into the darkening horizon, leaving Damian completely behind in the shadow of the empty road.

A hollow, heavy ache settled deep in his chest—a sharp turn from the sweetness of a moment ago. He forced himself out of the dream before the sight of them leaving could sink in any further, dragging his mind back to reality.

Damian woke with a sharp breath, sitting up in bed.

Morning sunlight filled the room, making him squint. He rubbed his eyes, disoriented, his body still heavy with the lingering frustration of the dream.

Glancing across the room, he saw his roommate’s bed was already empty and neatly made. He checked his watch—7:00 AM.

"Damn it," he muttered. He needed to be at the Polo Club soon.

Swinging his legs off the bed, he stood up and headed straight to the bathroom. He stripped down and turned the shower handle all the way to cold.

The icy stream hit him, cutting through the morning haze. Leaning one hand against the tile wall, he let the cold water run over his face and shoulders to clear his head, but the memory of the dream—her touch, her voice, and the way she had turned away—refused to fade completely.

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Tbc