One hundred and forty-two

Talia's POV:

I dreamt of him almost every night. Like a wrecking house, my former captor came to me in the dark, when I was at my most vulnerable. He invaded my mind as ruthlessly as he once took my body. When I was not reliving his death, my dreams were disturbingly sexual. I dreamt of his mouth, his cock, his hands. They were everywhere, all over me, inside me. I dreamt of his terrifyingly beautiful smile, of the way he used to hold and caress me.

Of the way he used to torture me until I forgot everything and lost myself in him. I dreamt of him . . . and woke up wet and throbbing, my body empty and aching for his possession. Like an addict going through a withdrawal, I was desperate for a fix, for something to take the edge off my need. I was not ready to date, but my body wasn't concerned about that—and finally, I decided to give in.

Dressing up, I grabbed my old fake ID and headed to a local bar.

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