Page 65 of Bound By Obsession

“Are you just going to stare at it or are you going to put it away?”

“Is using it not an option?” I answer, not a single thread of thought passing between my ears. Wyatt’s brows raise until he scoffs.

“Nah. You’re too lazy.”

“Excuse me?” I attempt to look shocked but I can’t be sure what’s happening on my face. He tilts his head.

“Why would you get yourself off when there’s four men outside eagerly waiting for you to lie on your back and let them do all of the work?” My mouth goes dry, my tongue thick and heavy. He didn’t include himself, and he knows full well I’m not a lie-back-and-take-it kind of girl. I jut out my chin.

“There’s a self-satisfaction in doing it myself.”

“Liar.” Wyatt moves to the dresser and pushes himself up to sit on it, knocking aside the stack of school offer letters. He leans back against the wall, the picture of boredom other than his eyes. I focus too hard, causing his irises to pass from green to purple, brightening with lust before they ignite with fire. I feel that fire deep down, my skin too tight. Fuck, it’s so hot in here. I pry my towel open.

Those eyes, alive like coals burning into Wyatt’s skull, widen. I can’t find it in me to care. The tingling takes over, radiating down to my core, vibrating with the need to be matched. I toss the dildo aside, burning up from the inside. Reclining on the bed, I throw my head back and search for the source of heat. My fingers don’t feel like my own, passing over my nipples, rubbing over my ribs. The lower my hand travels, the tighter that coil pulls until I find it. Sliding two fingers over my clit, I gasp and push down harder. The pressure against the small bud penetrates the numb sensation rocketing through me.

I no longer exist. Only the quivering of my legs, the jerky movements of my fingers and the insatiable drive to be consumed by this blinding force.

“Feet together and let your knees fall apart.” The order slices through me. Rolling my head to the side, I briefly catch the hardening in Wyatt’s crotch area. Licking his lips ever-so-slowly,he regards me carefully. “If I’m going to be here, I might as well have a good view.”

“No one asked you to be here,” I exhale, continuing to stroke myself lazily.

“No one has asked me to leave yet either.” There’s a challenge hiding within his words, one he apparently doesn’t have the patience to see through.

“You,” I breathe, lost to the fog consuming my mind. Everything in me screams yes, but the last trace of my dignity says no. “You have to grovel.” Wyatt’s brows raise mockingly but I don’t back down. “You’ve been nothing but an asshole to me. I deserve your groveling.”

“Avery,” Wyatt says my name like a whispered curse. I shudder. “Please, open your damn legs.” I’m a slave to my own dark desires after that, unknowingly responding to his deep growl, my body deceiving me. My feet draw upwards, legs dropping aside like he asked. I’m completely exposed, bared to him, but he’s also more visible to me now too.

Through glimpses of my hooded eyes, I watch as Wyatt’s own hand travels south, stroking himself through his sweatpants. He watches closely, his jaw tense, and those haunting eyes are locked on me, mirroring every movement I make.

A strangled sound escapes my throat. My fingers glide in circles and my body arches involuntarily, spiraling towards an aching release building deep inside me. My breaths become quicker, each one a sharp, needy gasp. Every brush of my clit is hypersensitive, every nerve screaming for more, and yet, my hand isn’t enough.

“Fuck,” I pant, writhing against the bed, my thighs trembling with the effort to keep control. But control is slipping fast and I can feel the tension begging with me to snap. I’m so close, I can taste it. But there’s something missing. Something that will push me over the edge.

I meet Wyatt’s glazed gaze, his expression unreadable but his pupils blown wide. I know that look. I feel it right now too. Lust, hunger, and a darkness simmering just beneath the surface. I might not currently remember my own name but I suddenly know what I want. Not my thighs being rutted in the dark. I want him to look at me, to acknowledge me while I’m brought to ruin.

“Wyatt,” I breathe, his name slipping from my lips before I can stop it. My voice is thick with desperation, need curling around every syllable.

He doesn’t respond immediately, just holds my gaze with an intensity that makes my heart pound, steadily stroking his clothed cock up and down. Then, slowly, he slides off the dresser, his body moving with a deliberate slowness. My skin prickles with anticipation. Lowering on the end of the mattress, he doesn’t touch me, but he’s close enough now that I can feel the heat of him, his presence a tangible force that only fuels the fire inside me.

“What do you want?” His voice is low, a soft growl. A shiver races down my spine.

I can’t think. Can’t even form words. My fingers falter, stalling as I look up at him, eyes half-lidded, pleading. “I... I need—” He cocks his head, a wicked smirk playing on his lips.

“You can’t even say it, can you?” A dull sense of recognition knows he’s mocking me. Forever the man who will belittle and humiliate me, who gives me every reason to never talk to him again. Yet, I crave him. His efforts only push me to work harder, to walk the blurred line of his boundaries, hunting for a hold in the fence.

I swallow, the knot of tension in my chest unraveling as his gaze burns into me. “Please,” I whisper, my voice breaking. Surprising me, Wyatt’s hand moves to the pink dildo I discarded earlier. He picks it up, turning it in his hands as if assessing its weight. A surge of wetness rushes to the apex of my thighs, thesight of him holding it undoing my years of hard work. I can’t help it, I’m weak for him.

“Is this what you want?” His voice has that dangerous edge again, like he’s daring me to say no. Giving me the final chance to back out. I nod, barely able to breathe, let alone answer properly. My body is screaming for release, for anything, and I’m far past the point of modesty.

Wyatt takes his time, watching me with a predatory gleam in his eyes. Gliding the silicone over my thigh, he rises higher and higher, just to divert just before touching where I really want him. He’s careful to never let his fingers brush my skin, never crossing that damn wall he’s cemented between us. But I’m chipping away. Then, without warning, he presses the cool silicone against my pussy, sliding inside with agonizing slowness. My whole body tenses, every inch of me hyper aware of the sensation.

“I’m praying you don’t remember this tomorrow,” he says, watching the dildo disappear inch by inch. “But you have the prettiest cunt.” To emphasize his strained observation, Wyatt pushes the dildo in the rest of the way, slamming it against my G-spot. “Why do you have to be so perfect?”

“Why do you have to be so annoyingly stubborn?” I groan back. He holds the toy still inside of me, so full but still not close enough. The pause is excruciating, and as I recognize the indecision cross Wyatt’s face, I rotate my hips and ground down. He’s not changing his mind on me now, I might just die of disappointment if he does.

“Wyatt, please,” I beg, my voice barely more than a whimper. Rolling my hips again, I moan, the sound raw and needy. He still doesn’t give me what I want right away, although he teases the silicone shaft by moving it back and forth, just enough to keep me on the edge, but never enough to let me fall. Finally, I reach down and clasp his wrist. “For once, can you just forget who Iam and just fuck me like some dirty whore who’s gagging for it? Choke me, spit on me, I don’t care anymore, just dosomething.”

I drop back into the pillows, a wave of dizziness passing through my head. I moved too fast, throwing myself into a delayed spin. My entire body is prickling with needles, pulled so taut I can’t inhale properly. But it was worth it.

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