The Art of Obsession (Savage Stalkers #1)

31. “I thought I was supposed to be a good girl,” she snorts

31

“I thought I was supposed to be a good girl,” she snorts

Chapter Playlist:

“Thread the Needle” – Sleep Token

CAL

“Nice to know you care, Little Quill.”

I wince as I set her down and begin to remove my clothes. She gives me a feral, feminine glower and adorably covers her chest with her arms. The deeper blush in her cheeks gives her away.

Sticking her pert nose in the air, Everleigh looks away and sniffs. “I can’t have you bleeding out and leaving me trapped down here.” She escapes into the water. Good, the properties will help with healing her anal cavity. My blood is clean. Later, I will give her an enema just as a precaution. No doubt, she will kick and scream through it all.

Once I remove my vest and shirt, I assess the damage to my stomach. She flicks her stormy gray eyes down. The blood has slowed, but the gashes will need to be stitched.

Instead of following her into the bath, I head for the far side where the supply closet rests near the shower, retrieve a first aid kit, and sit on the marble bench outside the shower. Hissing from the antiseptic, I focus on threading the needle. For the first time, I find my hands shaky. Perhaps a little too much blood loss…not to mention the adrenaline crash. Nothing gets me off more than blood.

The sound of water splashing diverts me, but I don’t look up. In my lower vision, I notice her delicate hand picking up a white towel on the bath ledge. She approaches, the scent of lavender filling my senses.

She touches the back of my trembling hand. “I shouldn’t care,” she says softly, and I look up, awed by her eyes, how they’ve melted to a warm silver. She disarms me. I don’t deserve her compassion. “Let me.” But I’ll take it.

Kneeling before me—God, how beautiful she is on her knees—Everleigh threads the needle with ease, then moves it to my gashes with a steady hand. My willpower is tested by how much I long to comb my fingers through her dark, wet strands, peel them back from her cheeks. But I simply watch her, her focused expression and how she bites her lower lip.

I lean back, swallowing hard at first from the pain, but the endorphins soon sise. Tipping my head back against the wall, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, welcoming the sensation—the extreme contrast between her soft fingers and the sharp needle.

“Where did you learn to sew so well?”

“I like restoring old books. Many need their spines and pages sewn back up.” She sighs through her nose. “Why did you do this? You could have taken me from the front and avoided these injuries.”

“Mmm,” I muse without looking at her. “Punishment.”

“Punishment…for yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, and I finally look down upon her lovely face. The water casts ripples of light along her pale, lovely skin.

“Punishment for what I’ve done to you…and what I will do to you.”

“You’re taking me back to the exhibit after this.” She doesn’t phrase it like a question.

“Yes.”

“Will you ever let me?—”

“No,” I’m quick to respond, voice deepening to a warning.

“—see the sun again?” she asks.

“If you’re a good girl.”

“What is that supposed to mean? You’ve had me locked in there for weeks!” she huffs, digging the needle in a little deeper, stronger. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked, everything you’ve wanted.”

“You’ve been pretending.” I capture her chin, tilting her face up to mine, so she must pause her sewing. “Keeping yourself at a distance. You’ve been playing it safe.”

She narrows her eyes, giving me the spirit I love. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Everything.”

“You should write a book. Vague Riddles For Dummies.”

Simpering, I drop her chin, let her continue her stitching, and suck in a deep breath to elaborate, “I shared my history with you, Everleigh. And what have you offered in return? Not to mention how well you’ve behaved for me these past two weeks.”

“I thought I was supposed to be a good girl,” she snorts.

I chuckle darkly. “There is a fine balance between disobedience and playing it safe. You’ve been walking on eggshells, Little Quill. Too safe, too guarded. Do not assume I will let you out of your gilded cage because you’ve been on your best behavior solely for said purpose. It defeats your true purpose with me.”

With a soft sigh, Everleigh nods. “Authenticity.”

“Mmm…but to make up for the past two weeks, I will give you an opportunity. Share something with me, something no one else knows about your history. Perhaps something related to your resistance to anal play despite how much you got off on it once I broke down your walls.”

She cringes, and pain flashes in her eyes. Once she finishes the sewing, Everleigh sets the needle down and goes to the sink to wash her hands. I come up behind her, trapping her against the counter, caging her with my arms. Lowering my head, I breathe in the scent of her hair and slide my arms around her frame, reveling in how she softens against me.

“What delicious thoughts and memories are spinning in that beautiful mind, my darling?” I wonder.

She parts her lips at first but then looks down, hesitating. Needing an edge over her, reminding her of our power dynamic, I inch my hands to the crest of the towel. As predicted, she tries to hold onto it, but I warn her with one ominous gaze. “Drop it.”

To my surprise, she lets go. I smirk at how hard her little nipples are. She doesn’t shy away from her reflection, but she doesn’t face it head-on either. Her eyes are more drawn to me.

When I cup her breasts from behind, she whimpers. “You are going to tell me everything, Everleigh. And you will do it while looking at yourself and what I’m doing to you in the mirror.”

“Oh, God!” she gasps as I roll her nipples between my thumbs and index fingers, plucking at them. “Don’t you ever stop?”

“No. I’m insatiable for you. My appetite will never be quenched. Now, talk.” I grip her breasts, kneading them hard in a punishing warning.

“It was my professor, alright?!” she hurls out and digs her fingers onto the countertop as I pleasure her breasts and lean down to kiss her neck. “My Master’s Degree. I graduated high school and college early and started my Master’s when I was twenty. He was fifty, and he supervised my thesis which took a full year. A lot of private tutoring sessions.

“Mmm…” she moans and nearly doubles over from my rubbing her clit. Still swollen and engorged. I’m pleased to find her wet. As I scrape my teeth along her jaw, Everleigh’s breaths grow ragged. “It was subtle at first. He knew how to manipulate. He groomed me. Light touches on my back or hair, reading over my shoulder and getting very close to my face. The occasional kiss on my cheek. Then, he began closing his office door.”

Stiffening, steeling against her, I maintain my power, but she will take hers, too. I lift her hand, meet her eyes in the reflection, and command, “Touch yourself,” I command and grip her waist. “And don’t stop talking. Or looking at yourself in the mirror.”

With trembling fingers, Everleigh palms her breasts, rubs her nipples before lowering her fingers to slide two inside her cunt. And while my cock hardens against her upper back, my blood is pure ice at the thought of this asshole touching my woman.

“When I was finally finished with my thesis and grading time came, he locked his office door and shoved me against the desk and started kissing me.”

She begins thrusting her fingers in and out. Fuck, I love how her eyes have turned to flaming silver as she recalls the memories. She’s taking back her power. Rewarding her, I work her clit, swiping it from side to side.

“I shoved him away, and he got so angry. He said I owed him after everything he’d done for me, how hard he worked to help me with my thesis.” She fucks herself with her fingers, stronger and deeper. “And he told me if I was going to be rude and ungrateful, it would reflect on my grade. He even threatened to have me expelled. I shouldn’t have hesitated. Because he managed to get me over his desk and exposed my ass. I struggled, but he was very strong. Oh, God, Cal, please don’t stop!” she whines as I rub her clit harder but join her fingers, stretching her opening with my own. “He tried to fuck my ass. He got close. But I managed to grab a paperweight on his desk, and I bashed the side of his head with it. Ahhh—I ran!”

She clenches and convulses, unraveling so beautifully with tears streaming from her eyes as she takes her pleasure, holding onto the sink for dear life. Once she comes down, I don’t hesitate to bend her over and penetrate her from behind.

“Cal! Oh, fuck, why?” she cries.

“To show you how a real man fucks a woman. Were you expelled?” I go slow but deep. Her pussy is soaked from her orgasm, still goddamn warm and tight. Always so tight for me. Best fuck ever for so many reasons.

“No. But I did go to the dean. My professor denied everything, of course—even tried to turn it back on me by saying how I propositioned him.”

Thumbing her nipples, squeezing her breasts, I fuck her against that sink. My eyes never leave hers in the mirror.

“Fortunately, I found another girl he’d done it to. She agreed to go to the dean with me and share, but she refused to press charges because she didn’t want to be public about it. He had tenure.” She rolls her eyes, then clenches them as I feel my release coming. A few rapid thrusts, and I lock my hips to her ass, slamming into her and spewing my cum inside her. “He transferred to another university. It was the last I ever saw of him.”

Jerking from her perfect pussy, I catch her before she can buckle and carry her back to the water. “You’re going to tell me his name, Little Quill. Now.”