Page 65 of The Dark Obsession

“What…” I gasp but my question gets quickly silenced with a gentle bite to my ear.

“Hush.” He nibbles on the sensitive flesh. “Let me take care of you.”

With that he carries me to the upstairs bathroom without another word.

Over the last twenty-four hours, I’ve been manhandled to the point of feeling like his personal ragdoll.

Again, not that I’m complaining.

It’s nice to relinquish control, to let someone else take charge, trusting that he’ll know how to make me feel good.

Ever so carefully, Tyson sets me down on the edge of the tub, refusing to let me move as he starts running a bath, adding salts and essential oils to relax my sore muscles.

Double checking the water temperature, he lets it fill up before kneeling before me, slowly undressing me until all my clothes are in a tangled heap on the floor.

Brushing my hair behind my shoulders to reveal my small breasts, the man gently caresses every bruise he left behind, making me tremble under his tender touch.

Kiss after kiss, soothing the pain he caused.

When the water threatens to spill over the edge, Tyson finally lifts me in, letting me sink into the steaming bubbles with a content sigh.

“Join me?” I ask in a small voice, peering up at him through my lashes.

Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath, his hands fisting the porcelain edge.

“I should go. I don’t want to hurt you further and I doubt I can resist fucking you raw if I stay here much longer.”

His eyes roam over my bare body one last time before he turns abruptly, rushing out of the room.

Leaning back, I smile to myself when I hear the distant sound of an axe coming down from the outside.

Over and over.

Chapter Thirteen

Malory

Late spring sunrays warm my pale skin, breaking through the trees above.

I truly do love it here. The peace and serenity of it all.

Even wildflowers have started to bloom in the high grass surrounding the cabin, allowing me to have a freshly filled vase every morning.

Well, at first it was a vase that has now turned into yet another mason jar since Tyson keeps knocking them off the kitchen island whenever he decides to bend me over it.

Which has been happening a lot over the last few days.

He’s fucked me in every corner of the cabin, slamming me up against every available surface and every piece of furniture, ravaging my body so thoroughly I barely recognize it.

Until my throat is hoarse from screaming.

Until I think he’ll never stop.

I don’t want him to.

Tearing orgasm after orgasm from me to the point I nearly pass out from overstimulation.

Only then does he come, buried deep inside me with our release dripping down my thighs.

---