Bound by Obsession (Shadowed Souls #2)

42. Chapter Forty Two

T urns out, Midnight Madness is a big freaking deal. The boys gave me a very jaded description about destroying the other frat houses and proving they’re unbeatable, even after I pointed out that the Shadowed Souls aren’t a real fraternity. Garrett, despite his night in a cell, had the energy to be utterly offended at that.

“We buy our way in,” Huxley explained, dishing up a bowl of soup for Axel. This led to an argument about who would take it up to him, with Garrett winning. He’s surprisingly agile when he has bruised ribs and a lump on his forehead.

I snuck away after dinner to call Meg, who gave me a much more in-depth description. Apparently, for one night every spring semester, the fraternities and sororities on campus participate in a series of athletic events, with basketball taking center stage.

I can’t say it wasn’t a particularly lengthy call, as none have been since getting our cell reception back. We’ve text here and there but I’ve been trying to give her space after the revelations at the beach house. Ironically, finding out we’re twins has caused a distance I’ve never felt from her. It’ll take time, I remind myself.

Retreating into my room, I rub my tired eyes. Where the weight of exhaustion ends, and an endless knot of anxiety in my chest picks up. One day, things must get easier. Right? Heading into the bathroom, I relish some time to myself, showering without interruption. Garrett is going to care for Axel tonight, a pair of broken boys consoling each other so I can get a full night’s sleep. I’m going to need it ahead of going back to the dance studio tomorrow, knowing I’ll be the height of gossip again.

Once wrapped in a towel, I relieve my hair from the shower cap, allowing it to drape down my back. Stepping back into the bedroom, I notice the door is slightly ajar, a note sitting on the vanity. My heart skips a beat before I can catch it, knowing full well it’s not from who I think.

Mr. XO wouldn’t be able to get in the house when it’s full, but that doesn’t help the disappointment from sinking in. Is he nearby? Did he see what happened yesterday? It’s insane that his presence doesn’t scare me the way it should, as if I’ve rationalized which stalker I should fear and which one I’ve built into a protective presence. It’s not like he’s ever actually done anything for me, other than send the occasional note that lifts my spirits.

Instead, the note, which I suspect he wrote with his non-punching hand, is from Garrett. It lies next to my familiar pink dildo and a small, circular pill. ‘ Found these in Axel’s bag. Enjoy some ‘you’ time, Peach. It won’t happen often.’

“So romantic,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. Picking up the dildo in one hand and the pill in the other, I examine it between my index finger and thumb. There’s nothing to suggest what exactly it is, nor that it’s safe. A strange mixture of curiosity and caution swirls inside me. Garrett’s always teasing, always pushing my boundaries, even when he’s not in the room. But this? This feels like a dare. I bite my lip, feeling the familiar ache of temptation bloom low in my belly.

“Axel’s asleep,” a sudden sharp voice penetrates my room. I flinch out of my skin, accidently dropping the pill on the carpet. Wyatt has stepped inside, his voice trailing off as he looks from the pink veiny monstrosity in my hand, to the pill and back again. “I just thought…you might want to know…What is that?”

“It’s a dildo,” I frown, still trying to calm my hammering heart. “I know it might be bigger than what you’re used to seeing-”

“Not that,” Wyatt huffs. “ That .” His gaze is fixed on the floor now, staring at the pill with a hint of panic and curiosity. His shoulders bunch. I note the moment he’s about to lunge, and I beat him to it. Diving forward, I grab the small pellet before his hand has a chance to close around it. My towel tugs, threatening to come loose but Wyatt doesn’t care about that. His eyes are crazed, staring at my closed fist.

“Avery don’t-” he lashes out wildly. Adrenaline surges through me as I drop back onto my ass, all modesty and good sense forgotten. There is no thought process, just the fact Wyatt is ordering me not to that causes my hand to slam against my mouth, shoving the pill inside and my throat to swallow on instinct. A horrified silence hangs between us, both of our faces just as shocked as the other. Fuck, what did I just do?

Exhaling heavily, Wyatt composes himself first. He stands to a towering height, his T-shirt and gray sweatpants seeming far more imposing than casual now. Turning on his heel, I prepare myself for Wyatt to leave me with the consequences of my own stupid actions. What kind of stupid idiot takes something when she has no idea what it is, just to spite the person that’s usually spiting her. Approaching the door, Wyatt braces his hand flat on the wood, and slowly pushes it closed.

“What are you doing?” I gasp, backing up to lean against the bed. Whether I’m scared of Wyatt or the prickling spreading through my chest, I’m not sure.

“Apparently, I’m babysitting,” he groans, pressing his forehead against the wood. Whilst his back is to me, I push myself upright, securing my towel. My legs fail me, the tingling sensation spreading through my limbs. Dropping onto my mattress, the pink dildo I tossed aside rolls closer.

“I-I don’t need you,” I say, my voice completely failing me. Is it hot in here? Warmth is creeping across my skin, my cheeks flaming. Wyatt glances back over his shoulder, his eyes half-mast and completely unconvinced.

“I’m afraid you made the decision for the both of us when you decided today is a good day to get high.” I zone out from his face, the colors in the room blending together. A kaleidoscope appears behind my eyes and I reach out for something solid to hold onto. It just so happens, it’s a nine-inch silicone cock. Holding it up to my face, I try to make out the shape of it, blinking rapidly to bring some of my vision back. Wyatt has moved, his arms crossed as he stands at the foot of my bed.

“Are you just going to stare at it or are you going to put it away?”

“Is using it not an option?” I answer, not a single thread of thought passing between my ears. Wyatt’s brows raise until he scoffs.

“Nah. You’re too lazy.”

“ Excuse me? ” I attempt to look shocked but I can’t be sure what’s happening on my face. He tilts his head.

“Why would you get yourself off when there’s four men outside eagerly waiting for you to lie on your back and let them do all of the work?” My mouth goes dry, my tongue thick and heavy. He didn’t include himself, and he knows full well I’m not a lie-back-and-take-it kind of girl. I jut out my chin.

“There’s a self-satisfaction in doing it myself.”

“Liar.” Wyatt moves to the dresser and pushes himself up to sit on it, knocking aside the stack of school offer letters. He leans back against the wall, the picture of boredom other than his eyes. I focus too hard, causing his irises to pass from green to purple, brightening with lust before they ignite with fire. I feel that fire deep down, my skin too tight. Fuck, it’s so hot in here. I pry my towel open.

Those eyes, alive like coals burning into Wyatt’s skull, widen. I can’t find it in me to care. The tingling takes over, radiating down to my core, vibrating with the need to be matched. I toss the dildo aside, burning up from the inside. Reclining on the bed, I throw my head back and search for the source of heat. My fingers don’t feel like my own, passing over my nipples, rubbing over my ribs. The lower my hand travels, the tighter that coil pulls until I find it. Sliding two fingers over my clit, I gasp and push down harder. The pressure against the small bud penetrates the numb sensation rocketing through me.

I no longer exist. Only the quivering of my legs, the jerky movements of my fingers and the insatiable drive to be consumed by this blinding force.

“Feet together and let your knees fall apart.” The order slices through me. Rolling my head to the side, I briefly catch the hardening in Wyatt’s crotch area. Licking his lips ever-so-slowly, he regards me carefully. “If I’m going to be here, I might as well have a good view.”

“No one asked you to be here,” I exhale, continuing to stroke myself lazily.

“No one has asked me to leave yet either.” There’s a challenge hiding within his words, one he apparently doesn’t have the patience to see through.

“You,” I breathe, lost to the fog consuming my mind. Everything in me screams yes, but the last trace of my dignity says no. “You have to grovel.” Wyatt’s brows raise mockingly but I don’t back down. “You’ve been nothing but an asshole to me. I deserve your groveling.”

“Avery,” Wyatt says my name like a whispered curse. I shudder. “Please, open your damn legs.” I’m a slave to my own dark desires after that, unknowingly responding to his deep growl, my body deceiving me. My feet draw upwards, legs dropping aside like he asked. I’m completely exposed, bared to him, but he’s also more visible to me now too.

Through glimpses of my hooded eyes, I watch as Wyatt’s own hand travels south, stroking himself through his sweatpants. He watches closely, his jaw tense, and those haunting eyes are locked on me, mirroring every movement I make.

A strangled sound escapes my throat. My fingers glide in circles and my body arches involuntarily, spiraling towards an aching release building deep inside me. My breaths become quicker, each one a sharp, needy gasp. Every brush of my clit is hypersensitive, every nerve screaming for more, and yet, my hand isn’t enough.

“Fuck,” I pant, writhing against the bed, my thighs trembling with the effort to keep control. But control is slipping fast and I can feel the tension begging with me to snap. I’m so close, I can taste it. But there’s something missing. Something that will push me over the edge.

I meet Wyatt’s glazed gaze, his expression unreadable but his pupils blown wide. I know that look. I feel it right now too. Lust, hunger, and a darkness simmering just beneath the surface. I might not currently remember my own name but I suddenly know what I want. Not my thighs being rutted in the dark. I want him to look at me, to acknowledge me while I’m brought to ruin.

“Wyatt,” I breathe, his name slipping from my lips before I can stop it. My voice is thick with desperation, need curling around every syllable.

He doesn’t respond immediately, just holds my gaze with an intensity that makes my heart pound, steadily stroking his clothed cock up and down. Then, slowly, he slides off the dresser, his body moving with a deliberate slowness. My skin prickles with anticipation. Lowering on the end of the mattress, he doesn’t touch me, but he’s close enough now that I can feel the heat of him, his presence a tangible force that only fuels the fire inside me.

“What do you want?” His voice is low, a soft growl. A shiver races down my spine.

I can’t think. Can’t even form words. My fingers falter, stalling as I look up at him, eyes half-lidded, pleading. “I... I need—” He cocks his head, a wicked smirk playing on his lips.

“You can’t even say it, can you?” A dull sense of recognition knows he’s mocking me. Forever the man who will belittle and humiliate me, who gives me every reason to never talk to him again. Yet, I crave him. His efforts only push me to work harder, to walk the blurred line of his boundaries, hunting for a hold in the fence.

I swallow, the knot of tension in my chest unraveling as his gaze burns into me. “Please,” I whisper, my voice breaking. Surprising me, Wyatt’s hand moves to the pink dildo I discarded earlier. He picks it up, turning it in his hands as if assessing its weight. A surge of wetness rushes to the apex of my thighs, the sight of him holding it undoing my years of hard work. I can’t help it, I’m weak for him.

“Is this what you want?” His voice has that dangerous edge again, like he’s daring me to say no. Giving me the final chance to back out. I nod, barely able to breathe, let alone answer properly. My body is screaming for release, for anything, and I’m far past the point of modesty.

Wyatt takes his time, watching me with a predatory gleam in his eyes. Gliding the silicone over my thigh, he rises higher and higher, just to divert just before touching where I really want him. He’s careful to never let his fingers brush my skin, never crossing that damn wall he’s cemented between us. But I’m chipping away. Then, without warning, he presses the cool silicone against my pussy, sliding inside with agonizing slowness. My whole body tenses, every inch of me hyper aware of the sensation.

“I’m praying you don’t remember this tomorrow,” he says, watching the dildo disappear inch by inch. “But you have the prettiest cunt.” To emphasize his strained observation, Wyatt pushes the dildo in the rest of the way, slamming it against my G-spot. “Why do you have to be so perfect?”

“Why do you have to be so annoyingly stubborn?” I groan back. He holds the toy still inside of me, so full but still not close enough. The pause is excruciating, and as I recognize the indecision cross Wyatt’s face, I rotate my hips and ground down. He’s not changing his mind on me now, I might just die of disappointment if he does.

“Wyatt, please,” I beg, my voice barely more than a whimper. Rolling my hips again, I moan, the sound raw and needy. He still doesn’t give me what I want right away, although he teases the silicone shaft by moving it back and forth, just enough to keep me on the edge, but never enough to let me fall. Finally, I reach down and clasp his wrist. “For once, can you just forget who I am and just fuck me like some dirty whore who’s gagging for it? Choke me, spit on me, I don’t care anymore, just do something .”

I drop back into the pillows, a wave of dizziness passing through my head. I moved too fast, throwing myself into a delayed spin. My entire body is prickling with needles, pulled so taut I can’t inhale properly. But it was worth it.

Finally, Wyatt relents, pulling the dildo out of me in one smooth motion. As soon as I feel the loss of it, it’s thrusted back inside, repeatedly pounded into my pussy like he’s possessed by desire. Or perhaps by the need to dominate me. Either way, I’m here for it.

I cry out, my back arching off the bed as pleasure rips through me, fast and hard, like a tidal wave bursting free. My hands grip the sheets and my mind goes blank, consumed by the colors sparking behind my eyelids, lost to the sensation of Wyatt letting loose on me. We’ve wanted this for so long. I feel him watching me with dark, burning eyes.

His movements become more forceful, more deliberate. Each thrust sends me spiraling deeper into the abyss, my body responding without thought, arching into him, desperate for more. The friction inside me builds, heat pooling low in my belly, coiling tighter with every stroke of the toy. And that’s all before he finds the button that triggers the vibrations that suddenly ripple through me.

“ Fuuuuck ,” I groan, pushing back into the mattress. It feels so, so good. More than that, it’s freaking phenomenal, the release of him finally pleasuring me even if it’s not with his own hands, face or cock. He’s no less affected, his breath coming in sharp, controlled pants, betraying how difficult he’s finding it holding himself back. I see it in the way his jaw clenches, the tension in his broad shoulders, the barely restrained need to unleash everything he’s kept bottled up for so long. But still, he maintains that maddening control, refusing to give in fully.

“More, Wyatt,” I moan, my voice thick with desperation. “Harder.”

His lips quirk into a dark smile, but he doesn’t speed up. Instead, he leans closer, his mouth just inches from my ear as he growls, “I’m not one of your puppets, Avery. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

His free hand moves to my throat, fingers wrapping around it without fully applying pressure, just enough to remind me of what I asked for, what I wanted. My pulse jumps beneath his grip, the thrill of it sending a fresh wave of heat through me as I bite back a gasp.

There’s something intoxicating about Wyatt holding me like this, the power dynamic balancing on a feather. It’s his authority pressing down on me, exposing me in the best possible way. I yearn for it, to feel small beneath the crushing weight of him. The bully of my nightmares has become the embodiment of my darkest fantasy.

“Is this what you wanted?” Wyatt’s voice is low, dangerous. His other hand pumps the pink dildo in and out of me with ruthless precision, the silicone slick with my arousal. I try to keep my composure, but my mind has already dissolved into a haze of need.

“Yes,” I nod frantically, barely able to form coherent words. “Please... I’m so close...”

“Then beg for it,” he commands, his grip tightening slightly around my throat, pushing me to the edge of control. Wyatt’s fingers tighten just enough to make my pulse race faster, the pressure at my throat both thrilling and terrifying. His grip reminds me of the control I stole from him in the ballerina dressing room. Well, he’s taking it back tenfold now. My body trembles beneath him, utterly at his mercy. “Beg for it,” he repeats, his voice darker, more insistent.

“P-please,” I choke out, my voice barely more than a whimper. I don’t even recognize myself, the strong-willed woman I pride myself on being has officially packed her bags and moved out of my mental space. The toy inside of me slows and I instantly come back to my senses. “Please, Wyatt, I need it.”

He lets out a low, satisfied growl, picking up the pace once more. Wyatt’s hair is erratic, wild brown flicks shifting in time with the muscles pumping in his arm, veins coursing beneath his forearm and neck. The hold on my throat loosens to brush his thumb lightly over my lips. His touch is electric. All I can do is surrender and let myself be swept away by him.

Then, when I think I can’t take anymore, he leans down, his breath hot against my ear, and murmurs, “You don’t know this, but you’ve always belonged to me.” The possessiveness is enough to send me spiraling into oblivion.

A surge of pleasure explodes through me, every muscle locking up as I come undone beneath him. My orgasm crashes over me like a wave, raw and uncontrollable. I cry out, arching off the bed, pushing myself into the thrusts that tear through me. Wyatt doesn’t stop. His movements lack any trace of pity, the rhythm of the dildo matching the rapid beating of my heart. His hand at my collar bone tightens ever so slightly, keeping me grounded in the storm of pleasure ripping through my body. My legs shake, toes curling into the sheets as the release pulses through me, leaving me breathless, gasping for air.

My body finally relaxes, limp and spent but not completely satisfied. Wyatt withdraws the dildo, pausing briefly until he wins the war with himself. Ducking his head, he runs his tongue along the pink surface, tasting the white smeared mess I created. I instantly grow weak, lost in the intimacy of it all. Reaching for Wyatt’s sweatpants, he swiftly perks up and jerks back out of my reach.

“I don’t think so,” he shakes his head, one brow raised as if I’m the one being ridiculous here. His sweatpants are tented, despite him moving off the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. I lie there, stunned, confused, empty. However, I don’t have the good sense to move or close my legs when Wyatt returns with a cleaned dildo that he places on the dresser.

“Why can’t I have you?” I frown, quickly sinking into myself.

“You know why.” Except I really, really don’t.

Wyatt refuses to meet my gaze, his jaw ticking profusely. He fumbles around to find my discarded towel, promptly covering me with it and finding a spot on the wall he’d rather stare at. “Let’s not pretend you weren’t imagining someone else with you just then. It will never be me.”

I open my mouth and then quickly shut it again. Why should I tell him he’s wrong? Why should I stroke his ego? My thoughts are private, they’re dark and depraved and have no business being voiced because Wyatt is pretending he’s not worth my time. He’s digging this grave and despite the pull of my body, the urgency with which I want his cock buried in me, I won’t lie in it with him.

Running a hand down his face, Wyatt groans at himself. Tugging his phone out of his pocket, he quickly taps the screen and holds it up to his ear.

“Avery needs you.” He ends the call and walks out without a second glance. Without stalling long enough to close the door. Tears prick the back of my eyes as I roll onto my side, a new side effect of whatever I took settling in. Dull hollowness sweeps through my bones, an aching void ripping into my chest. By the time the door is gently pushed open, I’m sobbing, shivering and still utterly naked beneath my towel.

“Angel, what’s wrong?” Dax rushes over to me, stripping out of his clothes as he goes. In his boxers, he eases me beneath the covers and cradles me so gently, I cry harder.

“This is going to seem really weird,” I mutter whilst weeping against his chest. “But you need to make love to me.” Pulling me back a few inches, Dax’s face is impassive, a slow smile creeping across his face. He kisses each one of my eyes, coming away with wet, salty lips and then cuddles me closer.

“I will, Little Swan. Let me hold you for a while first and once you’re out of tears, I’m all yours.”