Page 132 of Unholy Obsession

I am not a jealous man. I’ve shared her at the club and let others touch what’s mine—under my rules, my control.

But this? Coming home in another man’s car, acting like she can walk away from me?

No.

I inhale her, deep and furious, my tongue swiping through her slick heat, searching—demanding proof she’s still mine.

And all I find is Moira.My Moira.

Her scent. Her taste. Her perfect, untouched musk.

It sets something off inside me.

I devour her.

I don’t tease or ease her in like I have before. I eat her like a starved man, tongue thrusting, lips sucking, my grip on herthighs bruising as I drag her against my mouth, forcing her to take everything I give.

She keens, thighs quivering, hands yanking at my hair. One leg hooks over my shoulder, grinding against my face like she doesn’t know if she wants to escape or pull me in deeper.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she gasps, voice shaking, body writhing. “I’m still leaving.”

Wrong.

I growl against her clit, the vibration sending her up on her toes, and then I drive a finger into her, curling back against the spot that makes her come undone.

She screams, convulsing against me, juices flooding my tongue as I pin her there, my mouth locked around her as she shatters. Her hips jerk, slamming the door against its rusty hinges. Her moans bounce off the walls.

But I’m not finished.

Not by a long shot.

I stand, pressing her soft, spent body against the door. Her lips are parted, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her pupils blown wide with pleasure.

“Do I need to tie you to the bed again?” I murmur.

Her brow furrows, something unreadable flickering through her eyes before she shakes her head. “I’ll safeword,” she rasps. “I should have already.” Her hand fumbles for the doorknob. “I have to go. I can’t be here anymore.”

“Why?” My voice is a growl. “Tell me.”

She shoves at my chest, but I don’t move.

“That’s right, dove,” I taunt, voice smooth as sin. “Fight me. Get good and mad at me.”

Her lips part, and for a moment, she looks like she might break—like she might confess everything.

But then her eyes harden, fury following pleasure.

“You don’t always get what you want!” Her voice cracks. “This isn’t how I wanted it to end, but I have to go.”

She reaches for the door again, and again, I block her.

She slaps me.

Her palm leaves a sting that only makes my cock throb harder.

She knows exactly what she’s doing.

Then she groans, fists my shirt, and yanks me down, her teeth sinking into my bottom lip before she breathes against my mouth, “Just one last time.”

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