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"A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love."

-Stendhal

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Sarah awoke with a start. Tingles of pleasure still ran through her veins. Memories of her dream flooded through her mind and she gasped, goose bumps covering her heated skin. She knew the man from her dreams. Her enemy. The man who had taken her baby brother five years before, had made her run his maze in search of the castle in the centre. The Goblin King.

Quickly she threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. Going over to the window, she opened it, the breeze cooling her flesh and ruffling her hair over her shoulders. She sat down in front of her dressing table and picked up the book. The Labyrinth. The Underground. Land of mystery and magic. She had just experienced it for the second time. She buried her face in her hands, her cheeks burning with the remnants of desire, her skin brushed with a fine sheen of sweat.

"Why?" she whispered. "Why would I dream about him? I hate him." Standing up, she began to pace, watching her form in the mirror. Since she had returned from the Underground she had felt herself growing into a woman. Tonight only proved the fact. Never before had she had a dream like tonights; a dream where her body was taken over by a mysterious force unknown, where she craved nothing but the body of another. She shivered. She could still feel him on her, inside her, his invisible presence lingering as though he had really been there. Could he have been? He could have used her for his own gratification. Anger flared then quickly subsided. No, not even he was that cruel.

No, she decided, he would never do such a thing. He was terror and pain and everything between. Cruelty was in his nature, but she had defeated him.

"For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great." Her own words echoed through her mind and she suddenly remembered the look on his face as she had said them to him. The great disappointment and sadness in his eyes, lips thin as paper and frowning. He threw the crystal he had offered her into the air and had disappeared in a flutter of white. And then she was home again.

A small longing settled in the pit of her stomach. He had looked so rejected when she had denied him. So unhappy. She flopped down on her bed, a hand coming to rest just below her breasts. She felt sorry for him. A giggle escaped her and she quickly bit down on her lower lip, not wanting to wake her friend in the next room. She felt sorry for the Goblin King. Why the hell should she feel sorry for him? He'd taken her brother and made her run his stupid Labyrinth. He'd appeared at will just to torment her, well dressed and regal, flirting with her at every chance. Realisation dawned on her and she sat up, hands coming up to run through her hair. He'd flirted with her. Her eyes widened and she gasped. A King. *The* King of the Labyrinth had been flirting with her, a mortal girl, many many years younger than himself. She grinned. Maybe he had wanted her. She twirled a lock of hair around her finger. Maybe in the back of her mind she had known it before and that was why she'd dreamt about him in that way.

Laughing quietly, she stood up and sat down at her dressing table again, taking her nightgown off and watching herself in the mirror. Tilting her head so her hair fell over her shoulder, she smiled. She didn't look much like a child anymore, her figure well defined and her breasts a nice size for her body. She brought a hand up and cupped one. She wasn't like some girls that she went to college with. She didn't show her body off or wear revealing clothes to get the attention of guys. Dating didn't interest her at all. But now she had caught the attention of a handsome man. A man, not a boy. He wasn't childish or immature, he was gorgeous and sexy. Her thumb began rubbing her nipple, pinching just the way she liked it. He was sexy. And maybe he had wanted her. But she'd been 16 then. What would he think of her now that she was 21?

Unconsciously her other hand left its place on her dresser and came to rest just below her navel, caressing her still sensitised skin. Would he still want her? Would he want her more? Her hand dipped lower, raking through her dark curls and she gasped. What would he do if he saw her touching herself like this? She licked her lips and closed her eyes, remembering how he looked in her dream, a look of utter lust in his eyes. Her hand ran lower, brushing over her folds, testing her readiness and finding herself still wet from the dream. She moaned and thrust a finger eagerly inside herself. In her mind he grinned and encouraged her. Her breath became deeper and she joined another finger with the first. Would he watch her or help her, touching her in all of the places he would know she liked? Would he want her to reciprocate? The very idea of it brought her closer to the edge and she started panting, her fingers pushing deeper and deeper inside of her. Would he make passionate love to her until she could no longer stand it? She curled her fingers up just a little; thumb dancing over her small bundle of nerves, making her cry out in ecstasy. Ripples of pleasure washed over her body and she called his name, eyes shut tight.

Several minutes later, dark eyes opened and surveyed the room. The earth had moved, she was sure of it. She let out a laughing gasp and grabbed a tissue from the table, cleaning herself off. Crawling back into bed, she lay there as the first rays of light filtered through the curtains, shining on her sweat-slicked skin. One thought lingered in her satiated mind - 'I hope he saw that'. Sleep claimed her quickly.