Page 100 of Obsession (Dark Revenge)
Jared extended his hand, attempting to pat me on the head, but I hissed in protest and swiftly pushed his hand away. It felt far too humiliating. Undeterred, Jared seized my collar, drawing me nearer and leaning over me, making him seem even more imposing. My heart raced within my chest.
“I told you it would be on my terms. When I want to fuck you or taste you, it will be when I decide, and not a minute sooner. For now, you’ll stay on the floor while I work.”
He was nearly... mesmerizing. Not that I would ever wish to be treated this way by my own husband, but Jared’s self-control and the aura of power he exuded were undeniable. He didn’t lose his temper, and he held all the cards. The confidence he displayed left me momentarily speechless.
“Um... new scene?” I stammered, and he released me. I got up from the floor, trying to steady my racing heart as we embarked on a new scenario between Jared and Astrid.
Chapter 40
-Jared-
It wasn’t perfect. Alison and Astrid were distinctly different in many ways. Firstly, Alison didn’t elicit the same disgust I felt when Astrid touched me. It was something I couldn’t help but notice as we explored various scenarios where Astrid might attempt to manipulate or engage with me. I had always harbored a deep-seated aversion to Alison, and my acceptance of her touch had solely been due to her becoming my slave.
However, as she assumed the role of my wife, something shifted. Even when I tried not to view her as a mere toy for my amusement, her hands on me didn’t evoke the same revulsion that Astrid’s did. Instead, it stirred desires I wasn’t supposed to have—an unsettling thought that complicated this game further. But this complexity was necessary practice. I needed to be prepared for Astrid’s cunning ways.
“All right, how about this?” Alison asked, showing a growing enthusiasm for her role, likely because it gave her more freedom to act as she pleased.
“Picture this,” she began, “you come home after a long and challenging day, having beaten someone up in the backroom.”
“Is that what you think I’ll be doing, beating people up?” I countered.
“Beating, torturing, hunting, all of it,” she responded without hesitation.
“I’ve told you that you don’t truly understand my life.”
“Maybe it’s because you haven’t told me,” she countered, crossing her arms and then flashing a small smile. “Will you?”
“What did we discuss about knowing too much?”
She sighed, her arms dropping. “It’s too dangerous.”
I nodded, but I quickly realized that Alison's lack of knowledge about me didn't necessarily guarantee her safety. She was already deeply involved. Perhaps destroying her life was indeed the only way to keep her safe. Nevertheless, the desire to push that metaphorical big red button seemed to diminish the more time we spent together. I had come to realize something important. What satisfaction could there be in destroying a person who was already broken? And beneath her sweet smile, I knew what lay hidden within Alison.
“Jared!” she called, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Were you even listening?”
“Were you even speaking?” I retorted, observing her glare at me.
“You know, just because you dislike her, she is still your wife, and you should listen to her.”
“Not if what she’s saying is nonsense.”
“Jared!” she scolded, and I groaned, acknowledging that she was right. “You could still have a good partnership.”
“That ship has sailed. When she sent her cousins after you, it sealed the fate of our marriage,” I snarled, and I saw Alison’s eyes grow bigger. I quickly realized what I had said and how it sounded. Clearing my throat, I tried to break the heavy silence and redirect the conversation.
“What were you saying? I’m listening,” I assured her.
“Right, um… I was just getting back to the scene. You’re on your way home. You’ve had a long and difficult day, but she comes to greet you.”
Alison took a few steps back, then approached me with an almost playful smile. She was becoming adept at embodying Astrid’s role, despite her limited exposure to her. Or perhaps she was reverting to the old Alison. She wore that mischievous smile, the kind that spelled trouble whenever she directed it at me.
“Welcome home,” she greeted with an overly sweet tone.
I crossed my arms, creating a barrier between us as she cautiously drew nearer, her intentions clear. I grabbed her hand.
“Not tonight,” I informed her.
“Why not? I’ve got everything planned,” she divulged, her voice dropping as she hinted at the impending torment that she had in store for me.
