Page 40 of Secretary's Obsession

“And yet here you are, helpless, hanging onto the urge to orgasm to the point you’re ready to scream with frustration.”

George wanted to wipe that smug look off his father’s face so badly that his fingers itched with it. “Is that what you think?” George flapped his useless hand, indicating the pristine lab. His bear was using his controlled anger to break the barrier between them, and George could sense it was working. He just needed a tiny bit more time.

“How much money did you spend on this latest whim of yours? Do your staff know that the moment they fail—which they have in this case—they’ll be out on their ear without so much as a reference? Have you given them your patented lecture on how you can’t abide failures?”

Cuthbert’s grimace was all the answer George needed. “This lot would’ve cost you a pretty penny, and what did you get out of it? Some spunk from some non-consenting men who were used as guinea pigs.” George laughed harshly. “Great. You’ve created your own spank bank. Just don’t expect me to make a deposit.”

“You want to.”

Cuthbert’s hand got closer to George’s cock, and George growled. “You might’ve contributed to my genetics, but you don’t own my cock or anything that comes out of it.”

Cuthbert’s hand moved away, and he folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t understand why you have such an issue with all this. Your bloodline is special, pure, and deserves to be passed on to future generations.”

“Who said?” George did the best he could to shrug, considering his restraints. “You? Tell me the same thing from someone whose opinion I actually give a fuck about because that’s not you.”

“You don’t have to have anything to do with the cubs.” Cuthbert threw up his hands. “You give a deposit and walk away. I swear on my bear I’ll never contact you again.”

“That might be how you do things,exceptit’s not my way.” George was seething. “I didn’t even realize I had a father until I was ten years old, and you only came then because my mother was dying. You didn’t give a shit about her. You definitely didn’t give a shit about me, except as a commodity you could get matedoff to one of your handpicked females who all follow you as if you’re a god. If you’re that bound and determined to have an heir who’ll contribute their genetics to your gene pool, have another son. But wait. You can’t, can you?”

George knew the barb hit home when his father's face became flushed. “I’m the only one, aren’t I? How many girls came from your spunk? Everyone who can read knows it’s the male of the species that contributes the X or Y chromosomes that determine gender. Your spunk is all about the girls. But hey, keep trying. You have got one son. Maybe in another fifty years, you’ll have another one. In the meantime, you’d better let me go because if I have to get out of here under my steam, this place is going to be a mess.”

“I’ll let you go…” Cuthbert said slowly, a sly look on his face. “I’ll let you go if you tell me why that potion, that, yes, I spent hundreds of thousands of dollars developing, didn’t work on you.”

George’s eyes narrowed. His father never ever backed down. That was why George was strapped naked to a fucking metal table that they’d bolted to the floor. Cuthbert always got his own way, one way or the other.

“I did inherit something useful from you,” he said, pushing at his bear with the last bit of energy he had left. “It’s called willpower. My dick might be as hard as a fucking rock, and it makes no difference. That’s biology. I’d rather piss on you than give you a single drop of my spunk. I won’t have children carrying my genetics under your control. Period. End of fucking story.”

“That stubbornness came from your mother.” Cuthbert pulled a pair of latex gloves out of his jacket pocket and then went over to the door and George heard the lock click. A shiver ran down his spine.

“The things I have to do to get one simple bloody sample.” Cuthbert pulled on his gloves, snapping the edges of them as he got closer. “I guess I’ll have to do a spot of milking the bull, seeing as you’re not in a position to give me a hand.”

“You fucking touch me, and that’s incest. You’ll have to kill me to stop me shouting that story from the rooftops and spreading it across media outlets nationwide. I’ll go to the Shifter Council, I’ll have your picture plastered over every news outlet there is. Your reputation will be ruined. You’ll become known as the man so desperate to control his only son, he sexually abused him—sexually abused your own son just to get your own way.”

“You won’t tell anybody.” Cuthbert’s sneer was calculating. “You’ll be so ashamed when you slink out of here. You’ll never speak of this again.”

“I saidno!” George bellowed, loud enough to raise the ceiling. His bear burst free, the straps fell from his body. A moment later, the door smashed open, and that’s when all hell came for a visit.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Scott

His demon didn’t hesitate, ramming at doors like they were twigs to get to where he could scent George. He heard Dakata and Merihem charging behind him, only they wereway too incensed to consider waiting. The pheromones were doing a number on them. The fury was like nothing Scott had experienced—or allowed himself to release. Years of abuse from his family, fueled by his impotence to do anything to fight back, merged into a fire that lit his damn soul.

Through the locked door, naked, his hard cock bobbing madly in time to his pulse, his gaze swept the room, searching for their enemy. Their honey bear was there roaring his displeasure at the other suited man wearing black gloves. They matched in height and stature.

Despite the similarities to George, the other man’s eyes held none of the warmth. “What did you do to my honey bear,” his demon demanded in a tone that would slice off a person’s balls.

“Who the fuck are you,” the suited man fired back with fury.

The demon stepped around a roaring George and gripped the man by the throat, squeezing hard enough to make his eyes bulge from the sockets, he lifted him clear off the ground. He brought him closer, holding his hateful gaze. “Who am I?” he snarled. “I’m your worst fucking nightmare.” He reached for the hand that balled to punch him, took hold of the wrist, and snapped it back.

“Arrrrgggggghhhhh,” he scream—gurgled, spit sliding out his mouth as it gaped open when they squeezed harder.

They laughed in his face when the unbroken hand came up, scratching at the fist on his throat.

“Did you touch my blissful one?” he asked so quietly, yet the threat in the words was unmistakable. “Did you?”

When the man spat at him, his eyes shifting, his bear there ready to emerge, they lifted him higher and shook him violently, then threw him onto the table bolted to the ground. Quick as a flash, they flipped him onto his front, leaped up, and jumped on the center of his back. The weight effectively pinned the fucker to the table like they must have done to their blissful one. They grabbed a dangling strap and wrapped it around his neck, pulling back until he arched backward, choking and screaming.

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