Page 134 of Obey

“You really thought that would work?”

The hairs on the back of my neck rise, and I make a mad dash for the door, but Elias is faster. His arm locks around my waist, and he hauls me deeper into the room.

“Elias! You cheating ass!”

I drive my elbow backward, catching him in the ribs. He grunts but doesn't release me. Instead, he pushes me against the bookcase, forcing me to brace myself against the shelves.

“Mmmm.” His mouth brushes my ear. “Let's get you out of this dress, shall we?”

His fingers hook into the sweetheart neckline. Silk tears with a sound that’s half violence, half release. Cool air sweeps over my breasts, already tightening, and the gown slumps to the floor.

“Much better,” he rasps, spinning me to face him.

He pins my wrists high against the bookcase. His mouth closes over my nipple, barbell and all—applying hot, wet suction that makes my back arch. His tongue flicks once, twice, then he sucks hard, deep, until my vision blurs and my thighs press together. A helpless sound escapes me.

When he switches to the other breast, I try to twist away, but it’s no use. He gives it the same ruthless attention until both are heavy, aching, sensitive to the air itself. When he finally lifts his head, his eyes are black fire. My skin is feverish and I can feel how slick I am between my legs.

“Run again, Little Doe.”

Releasing me, he melts back into the dark and I stand there, confused and trembling in nothing but a thong as skin hums where he touched me. It takes three sharp breaths to claw back some semblance of control before I slip back into the hallway.

Back pressed to the wall, I edge toward the kitchen. A door groans softly somewhere in the distant and every muscle locks as my breath stalls in my throat.

I slide along the wall, listening intently for another sound that will give me a clue as to where he may be, but don’t stop until the kitchen yawns open, all sharp angles and cold marble lit by slivers of moon.

“Okay, bitch,” I whisper to myself, “You’re naked, alone, and being hunted. Think.”

My gaze snags on the knife block in the center of the island, and the image flashes: steel sinking into muscle. The thought is there and gone in a single, sharp breath.

I don’t want to stab him; I want to make him bleed with my nails, mark him with my teeth, make his ass work for the privilege of catching me. What I don’t want is to explain to an ER doctor that my boyfriend has a steak knife in his shoulder because we’re kinky fuckers.

Absolutely not.

A sharp electronic bleat fractures my train of thought and my heart jackknifes. I whip around to find the source. The oven, specifically, its digital display blinking a cheerful, oblivious red.

The timer?

I didn’t set any… That motherfucker. He set me up.

I lunge for the control panel, thumb mashing the cancel button until the beeping dies, but it's too late. His body crashes into mine, driving me against the island’s edge. “Losing your edge, Little Doe?”

I answer by slamming my head backward.

He shifts, taking the blow on his jaw, and his grip falters for a heartbeat. I wrench myself sideways, nearly slipping free before he catches my wrist and twists my arm behind me. The hard line of his cock presses against my ass.

“There’s my girl.”

“Let me—” Marble meets my cheek, ice and impact stealing the rest.

I struggle, but he pins me, one hand broad between my shoulders, lifting until only my toes brush the floor. His other hand slides down my hip, fingers hooking into silk. He peels my thong down with agonizing slowness.

A low growl rumbles against my spine. “So wet already.”

His tongue parts me; one long, brutal lick that has me bucking against the stone as I bite my lip, refusing him sound, but he doesn’t care. He circles my clit with devastating precision until a broken sound rips from my throat.

“Such a greedy little cunt,” he murmurs, the words vibrating against my skin like a purr.

Fuuucckk.