Page 31 of Unruly Obsession
I don’t look over the railing of the spiral stairs to my bedroom, but I can feel his gaze follow me as I slam the door shut. The moment I’m in my room, I rest my head against the door.
What am I doing?
I bite my bottom lip, the small split apparent, but the taste of my own blood isn’t off-putting. In fact, I feel alive. The throbbing in my pussy lingers, and I can't help but stretch my hand farther down.
I’m irritated and frustrated, imagining his rock-hard cock pressing against my ribs, curious as to what it would feel like inside of me.
Fuck him and whatever game he’s playing at. But it doesn’t take away the hum of the mark he left. And although I might not have given him permission to finish the job, I'll certainly finish it myself. I walk to my bathroom, stripping away my clothes before turning the shower on. I look over my shoulder through the mirror, staring at the large handprints branding my ass. The mark is so big, almost covering my entire ass cheek.
Dark-brown eyes appear in my mind. I try to blink them away as I step into the shower, embracing the pulsing heat from his punishment. My pussy is still thumping wildly, and I try my hardest to let the day go down the drain with the running water. I don’t want to think about it. I just want…
My hand lowers, and I begin to circle my clit, looking for a release. Yes, that’s exactly what I need.
Fuck him for leaving me like this.
Every thought continues revolving around Lorenzo—the last person I want to be thinking about. Though, honestly, it's not the first time I’ve used him as inspiration. I rub more vigorously, cursing him.
I can’t stand him.
I shouldn’t be into these types of things.
He treats me like a child.
The angrier I get, the more I assault my clit, thinking about him, expressing my rage.
Fuck him and those callused hands.
I replay the strike on my ass. The shock and pain. The pleasure that’s quick to follow.
Warmth floods my core, and I moan. My other hand comes up to grab my breast and twist. It hurts, but it acts as a tug at my core.
A delayed response, but well rewarded.
Fuck me, that feels good.
I relive each and every slap, squeezing my breast mercilessly.
A steady build begins to grow, and I chase it like I’m running away from the very man who put me in this situation.Fuck me. Why does he have to be so…
The climb continues, and my breathing comes in shallow pants as I swallow steamy air.
Infuriating!
I break apart, crumbling into my own touch as I ride the wave of bliss. I'm shocked and confused.
I’ve never been able to please myself like that. Not without a toy. I've never truly understood how to satisfy myself, and I've been too shy to explore self-gratification further.
But what happened tonight felt incredible. Empowering even. The dull throb where he spanked me continues as I take a deep breath, realizing that perhaps the pain might be the gateway to my pleasure. That makes no sense, though. I’ve always been scared of a raised hand. I've heard women talk about it over cocktails, but never thought I’d be into it.
Because… I’m a good girl? Right?
I hate that I even think that. I've been conditioned even in my sexual exploration, and I only have myself to blame.
Low, consistent knocks on my door rip me out of my thoughts, and I turn the shower off. “Don’t come in!” I shout as I reach for the nearest towel. I step out of my bathroom, surprised that my bedroom door remains closed.
When I open the door, no one’s there. I furrow my brow as I look over the railing to see him working on his laptop beside a crackling fire.
I go to step back into my bedroom, and that’s when I see it. A plastic bag. I expect it to be one of my favorite meals—something he’s been in the habit of leaving for me every night. But instead it's filled with ointment, bath salts, and cream.
