Page 41 of Bound in Obsession
“Being cooped up isn’t exactly good for my mental health,” I snap, breathing harder as I try to land a hit.
He catches my wrist effortlessly and spins me. “You’re my prisoner. I don’t care about your mental health.”
“So you keep telling me,” I shoot back, twisting in his grip, “and yet here you are, sparring with me like I’m your guest.”
A dark chuckle rumbles from his chest. “Maybe I’m trying to figure you out.”
“I thought you already had me all figured out.”
In a blur of movement, he tackles me from behind. One powerful arm wraps around my waist, yanking me back against his hard, sweat-slicked chest. The impact knocks the breath out of me. His other hand slides down, fingers splaying possessively over my stomach as he pulls me flush against him.
“I just figured out you’re shitty at sparring,” he whispers hotly against my ear, lips brushing the shell, “and apparently everything else.”
His hand moves lower. He cups me between my legs, palm pressing firmly against my pussy through the thin fabric of myshorts. I gasp sharply, my whole body jolting at the sudden, intimate contact.
“What?” he murmurs, voice dark and filthy as his fingers start to move in slow, teasing circles. “No response on how terrible you are?”
I can’t speak. My knees weaken as he strokes me through the shorts, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting up my spine.
I’m getting wet, embarrassingly, shamefully wet, and the fabric is so thin I know he can feel it. He presses harder, rubbing my clit, and a broken moan slips from my throat.
He groans softly in approval. “Fuck, I like you like this… all quiet and breathy.”
His fingers keep working me, slow and relentless, pressing the soaked fabric against my swollen clit. My hips twitch involuntarily, chasing the sensation. I grab onto his forearm for support, nails digging into his skin as my knees threaten to buckle.
“Nico…” I cry out, his name falling from my lips like a plea.
“Yeah,” he growls, voice rough with satisfaction. “Say it again. That’s the only time I’ve heard you talk to me without anger.”
He kisses the side of my neck, open-mouthed, hot, and wet, then scrapes his teeth along my pulse point. I tilt my head to the side without thinking, giving him more access. His hand never stops moving between my legs, stroking me through the shorts until I’m panting, trembling, shamefully close to the edge.
I should push him away. I should hate this.
Instead, all I can do is moan his name again as his fingers press harder, circling faster, driving me closer and closer to losing control.
The relentless pressure of his fingers circling my clit through the thin, soaked fabric of my shorts pushes me right to the edge. My thighs tremble violently. My breath comes in short, desperate gasps.
“Nico—” I cry out, his name breaking on my lips as pleasure crashes over me like a wave.
My whole body jerks and spasms against him. White-hot ecstasy explodes between my legs, flooding through me in powerful pulses that make my vision blur. My knees completely give out, but his strong arm stays locked around my waist, holding me upright against his hard, sweaty chest. I would have collapsed without him.
I’ve made myself come before, but nothing has ever felt like this. So intense. So shattering. And he didn’t even touch me skin-to-skin. Just his hand through my shorts, his voice in my ear, his body pressed against mine.
I’m still shaking, gasping for air, when a phone starts ringing somewhere nearby.
Nico swears under his breath, low and frustrated. His arm tightens around me for one possessive second… then he reluctantly lets go and steps back to answer the call.
The moment he leaves me, reality sinks into me like cold water.
What the hell did I just do? I just came on his hand. On the grass. In broad daylight. Moaning his name like some desperate, wanton thing.
Shame burns through me. I don’t wait for him to finish the call. The second his back is turned, I bolt.
My legs are shaky, my thighs slick, heart pounding as I sprint back toward the house. I don’t stop until I reach my bedroom, slamming the door behind me even though I know it won’t lock from the inside.
I lean back against the wood, chest heaving, trying to catch my breath.
My body is still tingling. My pussy is still throbbing with aftershocks. And all I can think about is how much I want him to do it again.
