Page 53 of Unholy Obsession

“She does have a way with them,” Marcus says admiringly, watching her as she goes.

Caleb snorts. “It’s a lost cause, man. Give it up already.”

“What?” I ask, looking between them. “You like Quinn? But you’re both dominants.”

Marcus just rolls his eyes and downs the last swig of his whiskey. “I’ve got to get home. The babysitter could only stay until ten.”

Caleb laughs. “Marcus always wants what he shouldn’t.”

Marcus cuffs Caleb lightly on the back of the head as he stands up.

I turn, squirming, to Bane. I’ve officially waited as long as I can.

He looks at me over the glass of his sparkling water, eyes dark.Fuck. It’s not fair for a man to be so fucking hot. Especially in that mask, thinking of the filthy, combative way he likes to fuck me. All the while knowing the rest of the time, he wears a priest’s collar, patiently dealing with old ladies squabbling about who sat in their spot in the pew last Sunday.

He doesn’t have to say a word. He just gestures with the left to indicate it’s finally time.

I all but squirt in the panties he made me wear for the night as I leap to my feet to follow him.

TWENTY-ONE

BANE

I’ve been such a miserablylonely fuck my whole life.

But of course, Moira has friends. The kind who seem like family. People are drawn to her not because of anything they want from her but simply because sheshines. She’s kind. She’s funny. Unselfish. Self-deprecating. She makes space in conversation for other people. You can tell she actuallycaresabout them.

Realizing all this, I scrap the scene I had in mind for the night and lead her instead to the throne with a spotlight shining down on it.

“Isn’t this a… queening chair?” She arches an eyebrow at me. “You want me to eat your ass?”

Oh, sweet dove. I’m glad for the mask so I don’t have to stifle my smile. I reached down to grab the hem of her dress, whipping it off over her head in one smooth motion to reveal the black negligee beneath.

“Sit before I make you.”

Her big eyes widen before she smirks. “As if you could.” She flips one of her pigtails and then sits down on the chair.

If one can call it that. The queening chair is a type of chair that’s missing most of its seat. Two padded lengths run down the width of where a chair seat would be, and I strap her thighs to them. I do the same to her forearms on the padded arms of the chair, then tie her ankles to the chair legs.

Her chest moves up and down, and she strains against the constraints, swallowing hard. Her nipples pebble in the black silk negligee she’s wearing.

I stand back and take her in, cock stiffening in my pants. I’m not wearing leathers, just dark jeans. The denim stretches a little, but not enough. With the stainless steel cock ring I put around my cock and balls before we left, what I have planned will be a perfect torture. For both of us.

With her strapped to the chair like this, I couldn’t even get at her perfect little cunt even if I wanted to.

At least not with my cock.

“What now?” she whispers, luminous eyes still so fucking big. She’s breathless and waiting for my next move.

Which is exactly where I want her.

She’s the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met.

Am I serious about her?

Yes.

But what if I’m just a passing fucking fancy toher?

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