Page 6 of His Obsession

“No,” he said, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Bringing you here is to show you that I’m in control. Of this situation. Of you.”

Her breath hitched, her cheeks flushing with a mix of anger and something else—something darker that neither of them was ready to name.

“And what if I refuse to play along?” she challenged, her voice trembling but bold.

Callum’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “You won’t. Come along love, I have something to show you.”

The implied threat hung heavy in the air, but so did something else—a crackling tension that made his pulse quicken, the primal part of him roaring to life at the fire in her eyes.

A muscular man towered over the delicate woman strapped to the St. Andrew’s cross in the middle of the room. The way he moved showed he was a man accustomed to dominating hispartner and that tonight was no exception. The woman’s gaze held a mixture of trepidation and surrender.

With practiced ease, the man retrieved a long, cylindrical object from a nearby table.

“That’s a violet wand,” Callum whispered in her ear. “Doesn’t look like much until it’s turned on, and then it can be as sensual or as wicked as the wielder wants it to be.”

Isolde gasped softly as the device was switched on and the settings adjusted. He could see her nipples stiffen beneath her blouse. She was definitely intrigued. Maybe keeping her around could be more pleasurable than he’d anticipated.

As the man’s hand moved to the submissive’s hip, Callum slid his hand down to cup Isolde’s ass. When she tried to move away, Callum pulled her closer and growled softly, but didn’t remove his hand.

The wand’s tip brushed against the woman’s shoulder, making her gasp. Her eyes closed while the sensation rippled across her skin. The man’s hand grasped the woman’s other shoulder, grounding her as the wand's spark danced across her collarbone.

“I won’t watch this,” said Isolde quietly as she closed her eyes.

“Yes, you will,” said Callum malevolently. “Open your eyes.”

Isolde obeyed as her gaze locked on him instead.

“Eyes forward,” he continued. “Watch how he moves the wand downward, tracing the outline of her breasts before teasing her nipples with it. See how uneven her breathing is getting. I’ll bet she’s damn near dripping for him. I’d venture a good sum of money that he’ll make use of that honey before the night’s over.”

“You’re a pervert,” she hissed.

“And you’re not nearly as much of a prude as you’d like me to believe. You’re aroused. I can smell it. I can feel it. Say theword, Isolde, and I’ll take you upstairs and use the wand on you before I feast on your pussy and fuck you until you can’t walk tomorrow. Would you like that, love?”

Isolde remained silent as the wand continued its descent, gliding over the woman’s flat stomach, making her muscles twitch. As the wand reached the top of her thighs, the man’s hand followed, his fingers gently exposing her glistening folds.

Callum was anticipating that this night might go far better than he’d thought as he heard her breath hitch. That thought came to an abrupt halt as Isolde stomped on the instep of his foot, bringing her elbow back into his midsection and running for the door.

One of the bouncers made a move to stop her.

“Let her go,” said Callum. “She’s new to the lifestyle. I’ll have her better trained before we come again.”

Callum tipped the bouncer heavily as he exited the club and saw Isolde getting in a cab. It drove off into the night. She had no idea what she’d stumbled upon the night before, but Callum did. It was a game of cat and mouse, predator and prey. He doubted she knew she was playing a dangerous game, but he did. And heaven help them both, he meant to ensure he was the victor and that it ended the way he wanted.

3

ISOLDE

Shadows stretched and fractured, dancing on the Fitzwilliam Foundation’s walls, lending the pristine room an illusion of chaos. Isolde sat at her desk, back straight and shoulders tense, her fingers brushing lightly over the surface of a file. She tried to ground herself in the familiar rhythm of work, but the man seated across from her disrupted all semblance of calm.

Callum Kavanagh exuded a quiet, deliberate menace, his dark gaze fixed on her as though she were prey. The afternoon light highlighted the silver threads woven into his black suit, the fabric so sharp and precise it looked sculpted to his frame. He leaned back in his chair, one arm draped casually along the side, as if he owned not just the room but the world outside it.

“This meeting,” Isolde began, her voice steadier than she expected, though her hands tightened around the file to keep them from trembling, “is completely unnecessary, Mr. Kavanagh. The donation has already been accepted, and all documentation was signed yesterday. I’m not sure why you felt the need to request this… follow-up.”

Callum grinned, his lips curling with amusement. “A man can’t follow up on a sizable investment? It’s good business sense, Ms. Fitzwilliam. But I suspect you already know that.”

Heat crept up her neck despite her best efforts to remain unaffected. “The foundation appreciates your employer’s generosity, but our allocations are non-negotiable. We’ll distribute the funds as we see fit.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rolling through the room and sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. “And I’m sure you’ll do an admirable job. Still, my employer has a keen interest in ensuring those funds are used… effectively.”

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