Page 61 of Driving My Obsession

“Girl, what the fuck have you done?” Jake screams, thrashing against the binds so hard I’m not even sure they’ll hold him.

My mouth wordlessly opens and closes. I have just as many questions in my mind as he does in his.

Ambrose’s dark eyes burn through me as he takes me in. He looks like his jaw might drop to the floor. I wouldn’t let it if I were him; these floors are disgusting.

Ambrose grabs Jake’s face and forces it toward me. “Remember what you did to her?”

Jake scoffs. “She wanted me.”

Ambrose’s eyes flash between us. “That’s not the way I saw it. How about you?” he turns his attention to me. “Did you want it?”

I shake my head.

“Two versus one, you sleaze.”

“What are you, her boyfriend or something?” Jake says with a sadistic laugh. “You dating a whore?”

Ambrose punches Jake with a ferocity I don’t expect. The single blow is enough to rock his neck so hard that I fear his head will snap clean off. With a frustrated exhale, he stuffs the panties into Jake’s mouth once again. Jake lets out a tirade behind the fabric, but it’s a muffled and wordless mess to my ears.

The anger on Ambrose’s face softens as he pulls up a chair and places it beside Jake. “Dance for me, tragedy,” he says as he takes a seat. “Eyes on me.” He bites his lower lip and pulls a remote from his pocket, then aims it at the DJ booth to start the music.

Sound springs to life. Has it always been this loud? Or is he drowning out Jake’s screams and thrashing?

I take a deep breath and let the music guide me. My hips begin to sway, and I glide across the stage before I grip the pole and climb. When I hook my leg around and drop myself backward, I fight the urge to look over their heads the way I normally do when I dance. The way I normally do when I want to pretend I’m somewhere else. Ambrose’s words ring in my ears.

Eyes on me.

I focus on Ambrose, blocking out the erratic thrashing Jake does beside him. A confusing twist of emotions rushes across his handsome face as I dance. He’s battling between anger and admiration, and I can only hope the latter wins out. As my back hits the cool stage, I tuck my legs under me and sit up, giving him a full view of my ass as I sensually stroke the pole before hooking a leg around it once more. I spread my legs and twist around to face him again.

“Crawl to me,” he says.

His stern command overpowers the music, and I can’t deny my need to obey him. I get on my hands and knees and crawl to the end of the stage. His eyes ride along each sensual curve of my body as I drop to my elbows and look up at him. He bites his lip again and leans toward me.

He turns to Jake. “She’sreallygood, but I don’t like that you’re getting a chub while looking at my girl.” He gets to his feet and sends his foot between Jake’s legs.

Jake’s eyes bulge and he tries to double over, but the ropes hold him in place. His face shifts from red to purple.

Ambrose turns back to me and walks to the stage. There’s no one to tell him he’s too close. That he can’t touch. Not that I think he’d listen, even if there was. His hand glides down my back until he reaches the bra clasp. He unhooks it in one swift motion, and it slips down my shoulders. Despite the numerous times I’ve bared it all on this stage, a rush of insecurity floods me. Ambrose lifts me to a kneeling position and brings his lips toward mine.

“My tragic little whore,” he growls, and instead of recoiling from the word, I lean into it.

His hand goes to my chest. His touch is firm around the flesh of my breast, but it shifts to something tender toward my nipple. His other hand goes to my throat, and he pulls me into him for a passionate kiss that makes me weak. When he pulls away, I’m a wet mess.

He hops onto the stage and squints as he peers into the audience of one. The bright lights burn into his eyes like they do ours. He walks over to the pole and puts his back against it. As his hands work open his jeans, he doesn’t need his words to tell me what he wants.

“Crawl,” he says, the word drenched with demand.

I crawl over to him and kneel at his feet as my hands ride up his legs. He pulls out his cock, and the metal studs reflect the strong overhead lights. I take him into my mouth. A low growl rumbles from him as soon as my lips wrap around him. I move along his length until I feel the studs at the base. He puts one hand on the pole above his head to steady himself, then he buries the other in my hair as he fucks himself with my mouth. I love the way the head of his dick twitches as I pleasure him.

He wants my eyes on him, but his are on Jake.

Wearing a menacing stare, he pushes my hair to the side so Jake has no choice but to watch me please Ambrose—the man who bound him to that chair. The man who kept me fucking captive until I captivated him.

“Do you want to see me fuck her?” he yells to Jake.

The dude doesn’t even say no. He’s gone quiet and almost seems to be enjoying it.

Ambrose pushes me back so I land on my ass on the stage. He drops to his knees and spreads my legs. His hands hover at the shoes before he raises them to my thighs. He pulls my panties to the side, and the warmth of the lights sears through the wetness between my legs. I keep looking at Jake, anxiety tensing every muscle in my body.

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