Page 83 of Blades of Obsession

“Fuck, you’re strangling my dick. Every time I go inside, your walls don’t want to let me back out. Did you miss me that much?”

Every movement against the mattress causes friction on my sore ass, sending a zap of pleasure straight from the burning in my ass to my core.

“You’re finally fucking home,” he rasps. “And I’m never letting you go again. You’re mine forever.” He thrusts into me exceptionally hard and stays buried there.

I gasp at both his words and the way he fills me, stretching me to the limit. No matter how many times he’s been inside me, I still feel a burn every time he enters, even when I’msoaking wet like right now. But it’s a good kind of burn, the kind you crave.

“Come. Right now,” he commands, pulling all the way out of me and slamming back in. “I can’t last in this good fucking pussy anymore and I want you to come first.”

I gasp, taking a moment to regain my ability to speak as he settles into me. “But—I’m not close—”

“Come.Now.”

There’s a ferocity in his eyes as his thrusts pick up. I wasn’t lying, I’m not close yet. But his deep command takes over my body like I’m a puppet that can be controlled at his will.

And then it happens—a tsunami of an orgasm crashes over me, pulling me under its wave. Stars explode behind my eyelids as my body trembles. Nothing else and no one else exists right now, only me, him, and the intense pleasure of this moment.

My heart lunges in my throat, and I think I’m about to pass out, it’s too overwhelming.

Wait…

The edges of my vision darken, time seems to slow down, and I feel myself slipping, the world fading away. The last thing I feel is Blade tensing above me, his voice distant and muffled as he groans into a bite on my neck. I think he’s coming.

And then, darkness.

Chapter 32

BLADE

Four-thirty a.m. The time I’ve been waking up every single day while everyone is still asleep. I try to be as quiet as possible every morning, slipping out of bed and careful not to wake Amelia. Not that she’d wake easily after passing out last night, she’s out cold.

The house is still and silent as I make my way through the darkened halls. Some guys, and whatever girls they managed to pull last night, are passed out in the living room. I tiptoe by. Today, I don’t have to bother looking for Rhett, he’s already waiting for me at the back staircase, hands in his pockets.

Without a word, we head towards the library down the hall from the kitchen. Before Amelia started coming around, it barely had any books, but she’s filled it up, and now almost every shelf is lined with them. I helped her organize them because I couldn’t stand looking at the disarray she had the shelves in. It doesn’t matter if it’s books, clothes, or her massive stock of perfumes and lotions, she’s always fine with leaving everything thrown around until I come behind her and straighten them up.

Rhett goes to the far corner and pulls on an old leather-bound encyclopedia—something no one would ever think to touch. The mechanism clicks, and a hidden door swings open, revealing a narrow, dimly lit hallway. We step through, and the hallway leads us to a small, cellar-like space, cold and damp,with a stone wall. The air is thick with the stench of mildew and dried blood. And I swear I saw a rat scurrying away when the door opened.

In the center of the room, Skye is tied to a chair with duct tape over her mouth. Her wrists and ankles are bound tightly, her struggles having left red marks on her now ghostly-looking skin. I was going to just kill her at the motel, but this is way more fun.

We’ve been coming here at five a.m. on the dot every morning. On the mornings I work out and train, I can only stay for about an hour, but on the other days, I relish in a full session, lasting hours, or at least until Amelia wakes up.

I walk over to a chair in the corner and sit down. Rhett stands by the doorway, hesitating. I can see the conflict in his eyes, the guilt gnawing at him every time we step in here. But this is his training. If he’s going to be my henchman when I become president, he needs to be prepared to do anything, including torturing someone at a moment’s notice. And what better way to test his compliance than torturing the girl he used to fuck?

Besides, it’s partly his fault Amelia was kidnapped since he covered for her and let her go off alone.

“Go on,” I say, my voice low and commanding. “Pull the tape off.”

Rhett moves slowly, hesitating, before yanking the tape from Skye’s mouth. She screams, a raw, piercing sound that makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. The sound of her suffering is like a dark symphony, each note bringing me a twisted satisfaction.

“What—what do you want me to do?” Rhett asks.

Hmm. I hadn’t thought of what I wanted him to do to her today. But I want it to be brutal. She needs to feel the weight of what she did.

“You’re gonna start by cutting off her nipple. Pick your favorite one.” Every guy has a favorite boob on girls they’ve fucked, whether they admit it or not. Skye’s eyes widen as she shakes her head, sobbing loudly. “Put the duct tape back on her mouth!” At first, her cries were music to my ears, now they’re getting annoying as fuck.

Rhett swallows hard and steps closer to her. He tears a new piece of duct tape off and grabs a knife from the table, where a row of different torture instruments lies in wait.

As he begins the grim task, I lean back in my chair, my mind drifting to last night. That was hot as fuck. The way she came on command, even though she wasn’t close yet, her body recognizing that it was mine to manipulate. And then she lost consciousness. Now, I kind of want to see what it would be like to keep going after she passes out.

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