Page 91 of Shadowed Obsession

“Yes, Sir.”

I welcome him into my mouth, dying for him to be rough and fuck my face. He starts off gentle, cradling the back of my head, and I hum around him.

I want to make him lose control tonight. I need to see him match my dark desires and give me everything I need.

I flatten my tongue along the side of his dick, relishing every vein and ridge of him. My thick thighs squeeze together, applying pressure to my throbbing pussy. I drip with need as he holds my head, using my mouth to satisfy his needs.

When I spread my legs to rub my free hand over my clit, sparks ignite instantly, and I roll my hips onto my palm.

Flames spread over me as pleasure licks up and down my spine. I arch into my hand and moan around his dick as he thrusts into my mouth.

“Show me what a good girl you can be with your mouth full,” he taunts with a wicked grin.

I pinch my nipple with my other hand as he picks up the pace. “Fuck, Doe. Your mouth feels so fucking good,” he grunts, pressing himself further in my throat.

I perform beneath his gaze, rubbing my pussy and pinching my nipples. Every sensation is heightened under his stare, and my muffled whimpers drive him wild.

“Make yourself feel good, Doe. Rub that pretty fucking pussy with my dick in your throat,” he urges.

My body ignites at his permission and praise, and I chase every last sensation while I come down.

“Ohh, fuck. I’m gonna come. Where do you want me to come, pretty girl?” he asks, and I squeeze my full breasts together, providing a canvas for him to lay claim.

White ropes decorate my brown skin, and I swipe a finger through for a taste. Under his watchful gaze, I suck the digit clean as he admires the beautiful mess he made.

The lion and the deer rest, while Deirdre and César roam wild.

37/

the chiropractor

Deirdre

8:14 a.m. | the morning after ‘the eighth incident’

The sun violently shines in from the bedroom window, and I drag the comforter over my head to hide. Until I remember I didn’t go to sleep alone. I blink my eyes open to find the bed to myself, the aroma of breakfast being cooked, and Latin music playing faintly from downstairs.

Damn. I slept better than I have inmonths. He wasn’t lying when he said it’d be hard to pull away once he finally touched me. I didn’t want him to stop, and he didn’t until I tapped out.

He spoiled me with aftercare and a bubble bath where he joined me, and as much as I love being independent, dare I say princess treatment isn’t so bad?

I climb out of bed and slip into my house shoes to investigate what’s on the menu.

I toe down the stairs to find an unmasked and shirtless César dancing Bachata at the stove, who I’m surprised to see has a back covered in tattoos.

Seeing him in his element but still navigating through my kitchen as though it’s his, does something to me.

My footsteps are quiet as I climb onto the barstool to observe all that is him.

César, I think. Such a beautiful name for him, and it is very moanable, so that’s a plus for me.

He is such a gorgeous man, I wonder why he would he ever cover up that faceorbody, becausefuck. Wetness pools between my legs as I imagine him naked last night, pounding me into my mattress.

Oh my God.

“Buenos días, César. Everything smells amazing,” I say to his back, and he doesn’t startle at my voice over the music. He turns to face me, like this something we do all the time.

“Buenos días, Deirdre,” he says with a smile as he rounds the counter to kiss me on the cheek. “Thank you. I thought I’d give you the best of both worlds today. Lucky for me, you’re not picky.”

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