Page 48 of The Art of Obsession
Chapter Playlist:
“Sweet But Psycho” – Ava Max
“Wrecking Ball” – Miley Cyrus
“Vore” – Sleep Token
“Pretty Little Psycho” – Porcelain Black
ACHERON
I’d expectedher to resist when I commanded her to strip.
Part of me wanted her to since Dorian is undoubtedly still observing. Fucking VIP all-access pass.
When I fuck her privately, following the public exhibit, it will only be her with me in this place. After seeing her response to this room, I knew it was the perfect place. I won’t show her the full scope of its effects until we are alone, and she will be mine in every definition of the word.
I fill my hands with the luscious flesh of her breasts, softly caressing the mounds, thumbing the erect nipples. Everleigh hisses, throwing her head back against my shoulder. Her nailsscrape my outer thighs, evidence of her desire. But she won’t have her release until she shares more about her coping mechanism. I need to know what I’m dealing with here.
But fuck if I don’t love how she responds. So genuine. So raw and authentic every damn time. Breaking down her mental walls may take time, but her body knows what it wants. What I love most is how she can be vulnerable without the burden of modesty. She blushes. She lowers her chin—not in shame but in an adorable coyness, especially when she fixes those war storm eyes on mine, refusing to back down.
The defiance continues in her silence, but I have much experience in getting a woman to talk. Still kneading one breast, I lower my other hand between her legs, torment her clit, and bite her neck.
“Oh, bloody god, please!” she begs, writhing in my lap, tormenting my cock just as much.
I lightly slap her sex and touch my lips to her ear. “You will have your release, Little Quill,afteryou tell me what I want to know.”
“Don’t. Don’t please…I-I need her.” She gasps, clenches, and buries her flushed face in my neck.
Goddamn. She rocks me to my core like a deep strike of thunder. Like the first time I picked up a paintbrush. No, the first time I created art…with mud on a rockface.
“Need who?”
When she doesn’t respond with anything but ragged breaths, I make a command decision. Releasing my hold on her intimate parts, I grip her hips, lifting her and straddling her legs until she is pressed to me. Tears stream down her burning cheeks, and her wet heat embraces me even beyond the water.
Before she can lower her chin, I capture one side of her face and maintain a strong hold on the base of her spine. She’s sodamn tense, more afraid than ever. More than when I cornered her for the first time in that cabin.
“I swear to you, Everleigh Lennox,—” I assure her—“if you tell me the truth, you will not be punished. And I will not laugh at your expense. You are facing the man who wears a mask and maintains his anonymity with a mythical name. And the depths of the darkness in my soul could shame the devil himself. Now, confess…whodo you need?”
Blinking back tears but lowering her shoulders, my beautiful girl parts her sweet lips and says, “It’s this…voice in my head. She kind of manifested a few years ago when I was going through…a really hard time.” I don’t probe her vagueness…for now. “She helps me cope when I’mtriggered.”
I stroke tender circles along her back, easing her discomfort, appreciating when she softens. “Are you a DID systems?” I refer to Dissociative Identity Disorder. Something I am not unfamiliar with, but it would create a much moredelicatedynamic between us. Nothing to be fixed but something learned, something shared.
She shakes her head. “No. It’s just her. She’s like this figment of my imagination. Almost like a…Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde type thing. Or an actor talking to a character. You have a stage persona. And I have—her.”
“Mmm…” I lower my lips, brushing them along her brow. “And what is her name?”
She looks up with glassy eyes. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
“Solemn as the grave.”
After chewing on her inner cheek, she heaves a sigh. “Cherry Bomb. I call her Cherry.”
Her allure just elevated. “And what does she look like to you?” I strengthen my hold on her, bringing her closer—close enough, my dick parts her folds through my wet boxers. A necessary barrier or I’d bring her down hard on me now.
“She’s a curvy, little pixie with pink hair, black horns, and red wings.”
“Do you only see her in your mind?”
