Arran’s Obsession (Body Count, #1)

With his hand gripping the back of my neck, Arran marched me to the mansion. I practically vibrated with need. Panted with it. A taste of him, and I was lost. His groan of pleasure had me almost coming myself, though I couldn’t touch my body where I needed it most.

I wished I’d been able to see his face, but the expression in his eyes over the mask had been enough. How his gaze had fixed on me. How it’d shuttered closed right before he fell.

From the way he manhandled me now, certainty in every stride and his grip on me tight, his free use of me wasn’t done yet. That had just been a starter. A taster for me. Literally. The masculine flavour of him was on my tongue. My lips, too, every time I licked them.

My desperation hadn’t eased any, but some small satisfaction had joined it. He wanted me. Maybe just as much as I wanted him.

I had the rest of the night to find out exactly how much.

At the back door to the huge house, he shoved it open and guided me through to the end of the hall. He locked it behind us then stopped me with a small shake of the scruff of my neck.

“Strip.”

I threw an anxious glance down the brightly lit corridor, and at the staircase that ran upward. No other voices could be heard, and all the kids would be long in bed, but any one of the adults could walk by. The question Here? was on the tip of my tongue, but I kept it in. He wanted my silence and obedience. I’d give him that.

Slowly, and with my gaze on him, I peeled the cropped shirt I’d been running in off my sweaty body, then unhooked my sports bra. My exposed breasts tingled, my nipples hardening even more than when I’d been blowing him.

Arran’s gaze flew to them, his shorts already tented again, but he didn’t move.

Next, I hooked my fingers into my running shorts and tugged them down my legs, leaving my body completely naked. Without much else to do in the past couple of days, I’d taken care of myself, using up the little tube of moisturiser that had been in my bag and shaving where needed using the razor I presumed to be his.

Armour against his steely focus.

“Kneel on the stairs,” he continued, his voice cold and infuriatingly calm.

Shivering, I crept to the base of the staircase, climbing up a few to drop to my knees on the chilly stone.

Arran swivelled a finger, indicating I turn to face away. “Now on all fours with your hands a few steps higher and your head down.”

Breathing out, I placed my palms onto the stair beside my head, my body on display and nothing hidden from his scrutiny. I pictured what I looked like to him, giving him an eyeful of my pussy.

Or anyone else who walked by.

“Ass out. Widen your knees,” was his next command.

My pulse skittered, the insistent thump of need only getting stronger. Now there was absolutely nothing concealed of my wet core. It could’ve been humiliating, but I’d do it if it meant him joining me, crowding me from behind. Fucking into me right here.

Again, my pussy pulsed, desperately needing to be filled. Cool air touched the damp at my thighs. I’d dripped for him when his dick had been in my mouth. My arousal had only gotten worse since.

A door creaked somewhere nearby, a person moving.

I jumped and peered around. Arran had tugged down his bandanna so his face was no longer hidden.

“Did I tell you to move?” he said.

The footsteps came closer. Anxiety took hold of me, and I swung my head back around and gripped the edge of the step, listening hard for clues to how close the person was getting. I didn’t want to be seen like this. His family might hate me, but I didn’t want them to think any worse of me.

Or see me in such an intimate, exposed position.

“Thought I heard noises,” a man called out from down the hall.

The stairwell in this corner of the house was tucked back. He wasn’t close enough to see me. Yet.

“We went for a run,” Arran replied.

Sweat pricked my brow.

The other man laughed. “You’ve been doing a lot of that. Ye really shouldn’t have the energy. I hear you’re leaving tomorrow. Say goodbye before ye go this time?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Arran replied.

We were going? I didn’t think our week was up, but a quick calculation made it day six. For some reason, I didn’t like the idea of returning to the city. I’d gotten used to being here. Swimming in his chemistry. Doing nothing but watching him. Waiting for something else to happen, some new feeling or a rush of our strange connection.

We’d made progress, and it was all going to come to a stop.

Then again, didn’t I want that? I furrowed my brow, confused, turned on, and totally lost.

Arran was the very last man I should want, but still, here I was, revealing myself for his pleasure and obeying his every command.

He’d taken hold of my sexuality and switched it solely to him.

“You’d better not disappear,” his friend said, the footsteps moving away. Then abruptly, they got louder again. He was coming back. “I meant to ask about your woman. Will ye take her out to the ruins? Have ye told her about⁠—”

“My woman, as you call her, is naked six feet in front of me on the stairs. Come a step closer, and I’ll have to burn your fucking eyes out,” Arran snapped.

Silence, then a rolling laugh. “Holy fucking shite. Threatened with my own weapon of choice. What a way to go.”

“Jamieson, I’m deadly serious.”

“Aye, man. Walking away, walking away.”

His footsteps faded into the depths of the house.

I sagged in relief. I hated that he’d told on me just as much as I was relieved I hadn’t been seen.

Arran clucked his tongue. “Pick up your things. Get back to the room. Now.”

Like a scared little animal, I scurried off the stairs and grabbed my clothing. Ahead of Arran, I bolted down the hallway and threw myself into our rooms.

Inside, I swung my gaze around, trying to decide where he’d want me. On my back on the bed or the sofa felt weak. I was overthinking it. All I needed was for the violent gang leader to fuck me hard and good.

I took too long deciding, because he was there, locking the door, then looming over me. Slowly, he pulled the bandanna wrap up off his head, then tugged it down over mine, unfolding it so the whole of my face was covered. He’d blindfolded me with his mark of the skeleton crew.

Parting my lips, I adjusted it, but he grabbed my wrist.

“Hands out in front of you, fingers interlaced.”

Outside, his instructions had been icy cold. Now, they were heavy with desire.

I listened out for what he was doing, jumping when he took hold of my joined hands. Arran twisted rope around them. The curtain tie? It was some kind of silky weave. He tightened it, and I subtly flexed my hands to check the binding.

Arran tugged it, jerking me forwards. He was leading me like a dog on a leash.

Unable to see, I cautiously stepped, one foot after the other, following where he led. Other sounds came, material rustling, which I pictured to be him stripping. Something like a piece of furniture moving.

My foot touched something, and I stopped.

“That’s the sofa. Lean forward over it. Hands extended out.”

Slowly, I edged to the sofa back, ready to drape over it. But then a hand landed between my shoulder blades and pushed me down so I dropped onto the cushions, my toes momentarily leaving the floor until I regained my footing. Arran kicked my feet apart, his bare legs touching the insides of mine.

That was all the warning I had. Just like he did with his daily rule-following, he thrust hard inside my pussy.

I keened soundlessly, restraining the cry that needed out. Like every other time, it felt incredible. He was so big, but my body welcomed the burn. I could’ve used another moment to adjust. I’d become used to him just holding still.

But Arran didn’t wait. He withdrew his hips then punched forwards again.

He gave a broken groan of need that destroyed half of my brain cells. We’d never done this. He’d always abandoned the act.

But the stops were off.

Again, he surged and filled me, bottoming out so our bodies were flush together. He rolled his hips, stretching me all the more, making me so full it almost hurt. Then he broke into an assault, taking his emotions out on my flesh with driving in and in and in.

Through the tight hold of lust and the cushions against my face, I took it, but I could hardly breathe.

Panic stole over me. I had my head down and my legs wide. My blood rushed to my head, every feeling all the more intense for not being able to see or move my hands. My hearing muffled, too.

All of a sudden, it pulled in around me, overwhelming and crushing.

I’d so badly wanted this, but in my head, he’d been delivering pleasure. We’d both been involved. This felt more like a punishment. Like I was being used as a place to stick his dick. Nothing further than that. Of no more value. But wasn’t that precisely what I’d offered?

I hadn’t fully understood that consequence, and he was taking me at my word.

Arran kept going, lengthening his strokes but keeping the pace even. His fingers spread my ass cheeks, and he ducked to bite my flesh. Then he changed the angle, and the pressure shifted inside me to bright, sparkling pleasure. I clamped my lips closed, not willing to give up a single sound for fear of him stopping.

Yet over and over again, he hit that vital place. It eclipsed the bad and made it so, so good. A building, winding heat that had me forget my need for oxygen. Every part of me readied to let the wave of it take me under. I’d been dying for this. For him to deliver on everything the draw between us promised. I needed to come and to have him follow me down.

Whether he liked it or not.

I might’ve kept in my sounds, but my body betrayed me instead. My pussy pulsed around his dick, the very start of my orgasm catching alight. It was going to destroy me, I sensed the strength, how the slow build was about to inflict a brutal force.

I bit my lip, but Arran stopped like he’d been stung.

He pulled out of me altogether, leaving me empty and halting my pleasure in its tracks so I cried out silently in frustration. Noises came like he was jacking himself with his fist, then he grunted, and hot cum spurted over my core and ass.

A moan flew from my lips even though I was nowhere near the finishing post. Then tears quickly followed, dampening the bandanna. I’d wanted it so much, and he’d taken it from me.

Perhaps that’s how he’d felt when he accused me of stealing his virginity. A sense of loss. Of wanting something you couldn’t have. It swallowed me whole, and I sobbed once, gritting my teeth so it didn’t happen again.

Something swiped between my thighs, Arran cleaning me up. Then he righted me and undid my wrists, sliding the mask free as his last act. I kept my gaze down, focusing on his hand at his naked thigh. His fist was bunched around the damp cloth, his knuckles standing proud. Surely having two orgasms to my none, the man should feel relaxed.

Resentful, I kept my head low, too aware of his scrutiny.

Finally, his instruction followed. “Go to bed, Genevieve.”

I crept away from him, curled up under the sheets, and let my ridiculous tears flow.