Page 47 of Twisted Truths

Nineteen

OBSIDIAN

Ithought I could fuck Ariana out of my system, but I was wrong. So fucking wrong.

Now that I know it’s pure heaven to be balls deep inside her, I want her more than ever. It’s a thirst that can never be quenched, an itch that can never be scratched.

Worse than that, she brings all my deepest desires to the surface. The desires I try to keep locked in a chest at the bottom of the ocean.

I think back to that day on the West Coast when I waded out into the ocean in the middle of a storm. Disappointment greeted me when I woke up on that beach, gasping for breath, but if I had never been saved, then I wouldn’t have met Ariana, and somehow that feels like the real tragedy. Even more than if I had lost my life.

After we parted ways yesterday, Ariana went to take a shower, and I went to ponder my life choices, so I headed to the secret garden, wondering what I’d just done. The emotions Ariana stirs up inside me are like a funnel cloud, the desires… should I confess some part of them to her?

I push a hand through my hair and flop onto the couch in my office. I know myself. This need I have isn’t going to go away on its own. I need to satisfy it somehow. The question is will Ariana let me, or will she run scared?

Her heels click on the floor as she enters the office then quiet when she steps onto the area rug. She pulls up short when she sees me sitting on the couch and not behind my desk.

She has on a pair of black dress shorts with a matching black belt and a green blouse tucked in. Christ, this woman’s legs are what dreams are made of. I want them wrapped around my waist, thrown over my shoulders. I want to lick my way from her ankle to her inner thighs. I want?—

“What’s going on?”

Her melodic voice draws me from my musings.

“Why do you think something is going on?”

She walks over to where I am and sits on the couch, leaving a foot or so of space between us. “You never beat me here. And you’re sitting on the couch, not behind your desk.” Alarm flashes across her face, and she stiffens. “Don’t tell me you’re going hot and cold on me again and have changed your mind about our arrangement?”

A part of me, a big part, likes that she’s worried I want to call it all off. But how will she feel when she realizes I want to up the ante, and what that involves?

I shake my head. “That’s not what this is about.”

Tell her. Tell her. Tell her.

Nerves make my chest tight, my breathing struggles. It’s not as though I’ve never discussed my kinks with a sexual partner before, but it didn’t matter what they thought of me. What they said and whether they agreed or not.

That’s not true of Ariana. I wasn’t lying when I said she’s different from everyone who came before her.

“Obsidian, you’re making me nervous. What’s going on?”

My eyes drift closed for a beat when she says my name. It does something to me. Not many people use my given name, and the fact that she’s gone from thinking of me as Mr. Voss to Obsidian feels like a victory.

“I need to talk to you about something, and I don’t know how you’re going to feel about it.” I take her hand, needing her to ground me.

“That doesn’t really help with the fact that you’re making me nervous.” Her beautiful blue eyes are wide and fixed on me.

I swallow hard. “Have you heard of somnophilia?”

She slowly shakes her head, obviously having no idea where I’m going with this conversation.

“I told you I’m messed up. One of the ways I’m messed up is with some sexual kinks that people might find… deviant.”

Ariana tenses but waits patiently for me to continue.

There’s no getting around it now. I might as well just come out and say it. “It means engaging in sexual activity with a sleeping or unconscious person.”

Her eyes flare open, and she rears back.

“I’m not into the unconscious thing. I don’t want to drug you and have you knocked out. I want to sneak into your room at night and fuck you while you’re sleeping. I want to take you when you’re at your most vulnerable.”

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