Page 42 of Deviant Obsession

I should say no. I should make them leave. Instead, I whisper, "I don’t want to say no."

Dean's movements become more forceful then. His fingers wrap around my biceps, drawing them backwards until my elbows meet, and then he holds them there with one large hand. The position forces my chest forward, my nipples instantly pebbling beneath the thin fabric of my tank top.

I test his grip instinctively, pulling slightly against the restraint. His hold tightens in response, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me that I'm not going anywhere.

"Relax like a good girl," he breathes, his words sending a puddle of heat straight between my legs.

Ethan watches this exchange with hooded eyes, and when he reaches for me again, it's with more predatory intent than gentle affection. My breath catches as he crowds into my space, forcing my head back to maintain eye contact. Without my arms for balance, I have no choice but to trust Dean to keep me upright.

Cool fingers trace along my jaw, and I can't help but lean into the touch. Ethan's thumb brushes over my bottom lip, pressing slightly, making me part them on a breathy exhale.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, studying my face like he's memorizing every detail. His hand slides into my hair, cradling the base of my skull.

Time seems to stretch as he leans in, his breath mingling with mine. The first brush of his lips is feather-light, barely there at all. It’s a tease, a question, and a promise. All in one moment.

I try to chase his mouth as he pulls back slightly, but Dean's grip on my arms holds me firmly in place. A small sound of frustration escapes me, making both men chuckle darkly.

"Patience, little one," Ethan admonishes, but his gaze is heated as it fixes on my mouth. “You’ll get what you’re given, and you’ll be grateful for it.”

Without giving me a chance to respond, he's closing the distance again, and this time there's nothing gentle about it. His lips claim mine with a carnal kind of hunger, his impatient tongue sweeping in to taste me. I yield instantly, melting into the kiss as he devours me.

Dean's grip keeps me anchored as Ethan's other hand comes up to cup my face, holding me exactly where he wants me. I moan into his mouth as he takes everything I'm offering and demands more.

When he finally pulls back, I'm utterly breathless and dizzy with want. His thumb swipes across my lower lip again, like he’s tracing his own claim.

"That’s my good girl," he growls softly, then amends with a glance over my shoulder at Dean, "Ours."

And in this moment, caught between them, I know there's no going back.

Chapter 14

Rhea

My textbooks mockme from their scattered positions across my bed. I barely have the energy to drag myself to the library these days, but my ability to focus at home is severely lacking. Soon enough, I’ll have to figure out a better balance between schoolwork and the insatiable twins I find myself beholden to. But for now, I just can’t seem to ever say no.

For maybe the hundredth time in the past half hour, my mind drifts to last night's scene with Ethan, and the biting sting of the clamps he put?—

No. Focus.

I shift position on the bed, wincing slightly as my thighs press together. The rope marks there haven't quite faded yet. Dean was particularly creative with his knots a few nights ago…

God, what is wrong with me?

I have midterms coming up, and here I am daydreaming. As if those delicious men don’t take up enough of my time already.

I’m snapped out of yet more droolworthy reminiscing when my phone buzzes against my hip. The text preview instantly kicks my heart into a gallop.

Dean: Come play. Now.

Just three words from Dean, but they make me want to giggle like a preteen. I swipe to open the message without a second thought, before glancing guiltily at my abandoned studying. Professor Shaw's latest essay is due in a week. I should really stay…

Another buzz.

Dean: Don't make me wait.

This time I really do giggle, squirming a little on my sheets in response to his demands. My body's already making the decision for me, even as the rational part of my brain tells me to get a grip. But I can study tomorrow morning. I'm not really absorbing anything tonight anyway. And Dean... Dean doesn't like to be kept waiting.

My fingers type out a quick ‘Yes, Sir’ before the model-student part of my brain can snatch back the reins. The response is immediate.

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