Arran’s Obsession (Body Count, #1)

Between my legs, strong fingers grazed up my thighs, the burning need in me soaring to greater heights. It was Arran, I was sure. Even if he hadn’t spoken, I knew his touch.

But the hand on my breast wasn’t him.

I flexed my fingers stretched high above and to either side of my head, my fingernails touching the padding of the frame. My skeleton mask kept me blinded, and a low running panic wouldn’t quit, my fear of the dark present.

Another hand grazed my side from behind me.

My breathing hitched. That couldn’t be Arran. Some other man was going to have his turn. To touch me however he wanted. I’d put myself up here and I was going to see it out.

Arran’s deep voice returned, close to my ear. “You have an audience, baby.”

The fingers at my breast were replaced by a hot and wet mouth. The owner sucking my nipple and curling their tongue around to tease me.

I groaned at the sensation, wary and aroused in equal parts. Everyone was here for sex, but that didn’t ease my uneasiness.

“Is that good?” he taunted.

“Y-yes.”

Another mouth landed on my other breast, the two people hardening my nipples with their sucking. God, that felt so good and so wrong. Confusion broke over me in a chill.

“Have you any idea how many men here want to fuck you?” Arran taunted. “How many are dying to take a piece? Should we let them see more of you?”

“I don’t care,” I gritted out.

“Really?”

His fingers met the hem of my dress where it stretched taut over the very tops of my thighs. The two people sucking me, women, I imagined for the sake of my sanity, moved aside but didn’t let me go. I pictured them shifting out of his way, giving him space for whatever shadowy game he had in mind.

Arran grazed his knuckle over my core. I moaned, the tiny contact delicious.

“Hope you’re not attached to this dress.

A rip of material sounded, the hem tearing. Or…slicing?

His knife. He was cutting it off me.

I whimpered, somehow even more turned on, my underwear soaked and fresh air ghosting over my belly.

Then I felt it. The cold touch of metal at my core. He’d cut upwards then returned down low, the point of his blade kissing my flesh right above my clit.

I froze.

Didn’t even breathe.

A tiny move from him and my gauzy underwear split from contact with the blade, exposing my most secret place. I stayed perfectly still, terrified, and horribly, awfully excited.

Arran rumbled a dangerous sound.

That icy hint of the blade caused a throb inside. One flinch and I’d bleed.

Then the knife moved back to my dress, slicing upwards so it shredded through the centre and finished the job of parting the two sides. My chest heaved, my breasts heavy and my nipples so hard they had their own pulse.

I tried to imagine how I looked, spread out on the cross, the ruined black dress hanging either side of me and only held on by the constraining band at my waist. Then my exposed breasts, now left alone, the women, or whoever, stepping away. Finally between my legs, my split underwear hiding nothing.

“Easier for someone to fuck you, now.”

I jumped again at Arran’s voice.

My panic swarmed, my pulse skipping out of time. I wanted to taunt him back or thank him for clearing the way. But my throat had seized.

Abruptly, he palmed me, straight between my legs, splitting the underwear fully.

In shock, I jerked and bowed out my knees, but I had nowhere to go within my constraints. He gave a low laugh and eased his fingers over my wet centre, not entering me but skirting over my pussy and my ass.

A moan tore from me. My hips rocked by themselves.

“Tell me what you think of my woman,” he ordered.

He wasn’t talking to me.

“Beautiful,” a female voice replied.

“So perfect.” Another woman.

“Nice tits on the lass,” a man commented. “Ye hear that, everyone? Perfect tits. Not too small and definitely not too big.”

Oh fuck.

The accent gave him away. The second guy was Shade, Arran’s man, still here and watching everything. Why had he let him? Why did I? Yet Arran didn’t stop. He glided his fingers inside me then spread them. Pulled them out slowly with an indecent sound.

God, this was everything I’d wanted from him, except not with others involved. It wasn’t right, even if I couldn’t open my mouth to say. Lips took my nipples again, and Arran worked me in repeated actions, using my arousal to swirl over my clit. As he did, big hands took my waist from behind.

Shade, definitely.

“She’s begging to be fucked,” he teased.

Arran’s grip on my pussy tightened. I cried out. Both men swore.

“We can swap places, if ye like.” Shade again. “In case ye need an expert hand to get her there.”

“Even think of her cunt and I’ll kill you,” my man retorted.

Shade drew his hands up my ribcage until he cupped my breasts, better offering them for the women to suck.

All I knew was the rising coil of heat winding inside me. How it lit fuses throughout my body, every limb infected, every inch of skin alight. I needed this so much. Everything. I wanted Arran to fuck me but not with his friend here, too. Not with the women witnessing our depravity.

In the same breath, fear crept in that he might stop. Deny me as punishment.

Again and again, he thrust his hands in a rhythm, hitting a spot inside me. Shade still held my sensitive breasts, the women tonguing and pinching my nipples.

An orgasm neared, a hot flame about to explode.

Bowing my back, I keened out, the impact of finally getting close after so long destroying my mind. The only touch I wanted to feel was Arran, but I’d take it. Anything to get there. My body tightened, so ready to be satisfied. So desperate for completion.

Then he stopped. All of them did.

Hands and mouths left my skin. I panted, swivelling my head to listen, but no one made a sound.

“What are you doing?” I begged. “What’s happening?”

A presence moved closer. I couldn’t be sure who.

Material rustled, and then something pressed against my core, spearing over me and getting wet. A dick. Oh God. Heat painted me, desperation clinging to my every breath.

But whose was it? Surely Arran’s.

Except I wasn’t sure. He didn’t say.

Fear laced my thoughts.

The man slid his thick cockhead up and down my entrance, then punched his hips and entered me.

I groaned, throbbing around his thick intrusion. My blood pulsed in my ears, so loud it almost deafened me. I strained to hear anything from the person inside me but could pick up nothing. No one else touched me. No other finger ghosted over my flesh. Everything was concentrated on the dick that spread me wide.

It was almost everything I’d wanted. So close, except for the fact I couldn’t be sure it was Arran taking me for the ride. I was ninety-nine percent sure he wouldn’t let another man near, but that one percent…

The owner of the dick bucked upwards, ruining my thoughts. Unbidden, another moan flew from my lips. It felt too good. Blindfolded and constrained, I could only surrender now.

Over and over, the man’s dick thrust in and out, so big it almost hurt, but hitting a deep pleasure zone that had me seeing stars in the darkness. I’d lost all control of my body. All I knew was the approaching bright pleasure. The rhythm and dark delight of being fucked so good.

Maybe I didn’t care who the owner of the dick was so long as he kept doing this. A spasm took me, and I hitched my breath, trying to stifle any more sounds so he didn’t stop. The risk of denial made everything a thousand times more dangerous.

I just needed a little more.

Just a few extra hits.

My pussy clenched tight around my unknown partner, and I couldn’t hold in a cry. Then the wall between me and completion crumbled. A brilliant, dazzling climax slammed into me. It started at the point he’d been hitting then broke over me in a wave, drowning me in deep satisfaction.

It took a long while until it released me from its grip. Until I could remember my name and why I was here.

Holy hell. At last. At long, goddamned last. I whimpered in distress and happiness. Behind the mask, my closed eyes fluttered. The man kept hammering away, his dick thickening, too.

My indignation returned in a rush. I’d got mine, and I was done with this game. I said the only thing I knew would be certain to bring things to a halt.

“Arran Daniels, your permission to fuck me has been revoked.”

The man stalled, his hips stopping their jack-hammer action. Still inside me, he crowded in, his mouth coming next to my ear.

God, it was him. Arran. I knew his scent, just like I knew every other element that made up the man I’d tied myself to. Relief sprang tears to my eyes.

Anger followed.

He hadn’t let me know it was him. Not until now. But then again, I’d done this to myself. My anger was for us both.

Arran breathed. With my words, I’d stolen his chance to come.

Then sure fingers peeled back the mask where it had slipped down to cover my lips. Arran kissed me, rolling his hips to fuck into me again.

I couldn’t stop kissing him back. Allowing his tongue into my mouth to own mine. He filled two of my holes, his ownership clear to everyone around us. Then just as his dick thickened again, he pulled out. Liquid spilled over my belly. Ran down my skin, cool and unexpected.

Just like that, my emotions crested, and I burst into tears.