Page 93 of Arran's Obsession
“Whatever that is, it won’t fit.”
“It’s a cylindrical sample of iron I kept from the renovations of the warehouse. A reminder of all I achieved that lives in myliving room and is engraved with the completion date. Smooth, otherwise. You’ll take it. Your cunt will accept everything I give it.”
I moaned, dark desire eking into my blood. “It won’t. That’s impossible.”
He twisted it, winding the base against me. “You can and you will.”
There was no way. From the feel, it wasn’t quite as wide as his square-edged phone, but there was no give. Just a solid metal cylinder.
Arran pushed it then retreated, teasing my flesh, not going so hard as to hurt me, but not giving up either. Suddenly, I got the image of him using all the things we’d played with. Catching sight of the cylinder. Answering the phone. Pressing buttons on his remote control.
Stabbing someone with the blade that started it all.
In a rush, I got it. Why he wanted it. I’d be everywhere. Part of his everyday actions, whether I was in his life or not. Our unconventional relationship had an expiry date, but I was marking my territory in ways no one else would guess. More—he was taking that from me. It gave me a strange and powerful surge of lust, so much that I wanted this final test to happen.
“You need to be wetter still,” he commented, low, need heavy in his tone.
“Come in me. I’ll be soaked.”
A pause. The cold metal left me. His warm dick replaced it. Then Arran reached to snatch off my mask.
His expression nearly broke me, the awe and lust on his features, but the room danced at the edge of my vision. The candle he’d lit had been placed in a holder on his chest of drawers, two others beside it, the flames dancing.
Somehow, his bedroom had taken on a romantic aesthetic. All without me seeing.
“We’ve never had this conversation, but tell me you’re on birth control.”
“Of course I am.”
Arran hauled me up. “Good. If I’m going to come in your cunt, I want to see your face as I do it.”
“Kiss me,” I begged.
His mouth met mine in hunger. His arms ran around me. Suddenly furious, Arran lifted me to his lap, fucking into me hard. I gripped him, holding him to me as close as I could. In and out, he thrust, his hips working overtime.
Sex with him had undertones. His first time had been public and forced. Every time since had been strained in some way, me unconscious, him letting me think it could be his friend between my thighs. This was just us. On his bed. Surrounded by candlelight and a strange selection of impromptu sex toys, an added purpose only he knew the extent of but that I deeply needed.
Our mouths fused. His skin met mine in repeated hits. Then Arran slowed. Pulling back, he jerked into me, holding my gaze.
My vision was hazy, but I held the eye contact, thrilled at the sensation it gave me, my lips parted and my body so, so his.
He kept up the action, his expression darkness, need, and with a flash of something intensely vulnerable.
“Betray me and you’ll destroy me.” His words were thick. Laced with meaning.
Then his lips took mine again, and he thrust once more and held still. Inside me, his dick pulsed.
My pussy throbbed, and I cried out a moan, clutching him so tight that I could hardly breathe. Nothing had ever felt like this. I’d never done it but had wanted it so much.
It felt like trust, even if that could never be.
He pulsed again, his face buried in my neck, then Arran rolled us down to the sheets, his hot body wrapped around mine.
Moments passed. I remembered how to breathe.
Then I pushed him off me. Arran released me, blinking his eyes open, his forehead furrowed. Reaching out, I collected his cylinder and fitted it between my thighs. With effort, I pushed it in where he’d just left, the path easier now, made of deep relaxation and the slick combination of us.
No more panic. No fear. Just showing him I could.