Page 36 of Deviant Obsession

I makemy way back up to the office rather than bothering to chase Rhea out the door. Dean will follow me soon enough. He’s going to want answers.

And demand how I could be such a damn hypocrite.

Climbing the back stairs, I trace my thumb absently over my lips. The taste of her lingers. She’s impossibly sweet, the kind of flavor a weaker man would be in danger of getting addicted to.

I tell myself I’m not weak. Although today I guess I had a funny way of showing it.

The satisfaction I usually feel after a great scene sits heavy in my gut now, curdling into something sickly as I replay Dean's face. The raw fury in his eyes when he heard what I’d done. The way his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

I fucked her before he could.

Loosening my collar, I pace the length of the office. Each step winds the tension tighter in my shoulders, my mind caught in an endless loop of Rhea’s soft moans, Dean's rage, her yielding body, and his betrayed expression.

Soon enough, the door crashes open hard enough to rattle the windows. Dean fills the frame, chest heaving. The defeat etched into his features tells me everything before he speaks.

"She's gone." The quiet admission carries an edge I've rarely heard in our twenty-two years of shared existence. The kind of edge that draws blood.

I force myself to stay still as he stalks into the room, every muscle in my body tensing more in the presence of this predator wearing my face. His fingers flex at his sides, and I wonder if he's imagining them around my throat.

"You didn’t ask me. We always agree before we share." Dean’s demeanor balances on a knife’s edge—that narrow spot between violent and wounded that I know so well. It’s as if there’s always a war raging behind his eyes between those two pains, each one winning out as many times as the other.

"That’s my bad. It was a spur of the moment thing. I didn't know you’d be so possessive. And Idefinitelydidn’t think I was entering into some race to fuck her first." Even to my own ears, the defense sounds weak.

Dean scoffs bitterly. "Didn’t think I’d be possessive of the sub I've talked aboutallweek? The one who's been consuming my every fucking thought?"

Regret hits me like a physical blow as the pieces click into place. Every word he says is true. I've never seen him like this over anyone, and I’ve stepped where I shouldn’t have.

"Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was her. She came up to me in the coffee shop and I acted impulsively. I obviously didn’t think to ask her name. I wouldn't have touched her if I'd known you’d care so much."

My brother is the one pacing the office like a caged animal now, that internal battle as clear as if it were playing out like a movie above his head. "Fuck,Ethan. I know you wouldn’t have. I just can’t believe you stuck your dick in her before I got to. It’s sending me all kinds of crazy."

“Not much I can do about it now. She wanted it…bad.”

His fist connects with the wall beside my head. I don't flinch. We both know if I wanted to put him down, he’d be on the floor in a second. "That submission wasn't meant for you,” he hisses, his nose hovering an inch from mine.

"Since when do you stake exclusive claims?" I keep my voice carefully neutral, even as memories of Rhea's desperate pleas echo in my ears. "We've always shared."

"This is different." Dean steps back again and rakes his fingers through his hair, looking more frantic by the minute. It’s almost unnerving. "She's different."

My hands clench at my sides as I remember how beautifully Rhea surrendered to everything I gave her. How perfectly she yielded to the pain, to pleasing me. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve never had a sub who was completely fresh, so eager to push herself. "I guess she is… something we haven’t had before. But still, what happened tonight doesn’t have to mean the game is up."

"This isn't a fucking game!" The words explode from him with unexpected force. If I wasn’t so accustomed to his outbursts, I might feel the need to start yelling back.

Instead, I stay silent, letting him pace some more, letting him work through the fury. Every few steps he glances at the door, as if he’s still thinking about running after her. Even when she’s long gone.

"The things I could teach her..." He mutters, almost to himself. "The ways I could corrupt that pristine exterior, draw out every twisted desire she's too afraid to name."

"She's not pristine," I say quietly. "I saw it in her eyes when she begged for more. Felt it in the way she pushed through the pain. That girl’s got damage, Dean. She’s not the fragile little doll you think she is."

Dean goes still, and for a moment I think I've pushed too far. But when he looks at me again, there's something different in his expression. Something calculating.

"You think you have her sussed so soon, bro? Alright, tell me everything. Every detail. Every response. Every sound she made." It's not a request. He plants himself in the nearest chair, sprawling like a king waiting for his jester to entertain him.

I weigh my next words carefully, knowing they could either salvage this situation or shatter it beyond repair. "Are you sure you want to hear it?"

"If I’m gonna get her back, I need to know exactly what I'm dealing with." His jaw clenches. "I need to know how far you pushed her and how much more she craves."

The possessiveness in his tone should worry me, but instead it sparks something in me. Something that recognizes the potential in this situation if I play my cards right. Because if Dean is this obsessed already, and I'm still tasting her surrender on my tongue...

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