Page 33 of Framed Obsession

I know you’re so fucking wet, baby. So fucking wet for me.

She begins to thrust the toy in and out. I match her movements. She goes in; I stoke down. She goes out; I stoke up. Our bodies move in sync; I can practically feel myself inside her. I grip myself harder, pushing my hips for more pleasure.

Her mouth falls open, blessing the air with quiet moans. Her eyes half-lidded, focusing on the image in front of her. The bed creaks beneath her slightly as she moves the toy faster in pace. I can tell she is already close. Causing my release to reach the edge. Come spurts from me as soon as one word leaves her perfect lips.

“Mmm, Axel.”

I practically see stars as I spill onto myself. My soul feels as if it has escaped its physical form, heading into a realm of pure bliss. The sensation causes my head to whip back, and my eyes close, feeling the ecstasy travel through me.

“Fuuuck,” I moan into the confines of my helmet. The fabric inside muffling my heated breaths. I milk myself dry, feeling every drop leave my body. I turn my attention back to my phone, watching my girl reach her orgasm right after.

Her legs begin to tremble, knees buckling inward before locking rigid. Her moans go deathly quiet, leaving the low buzz singing alone. The phone falls from her grasp, plummeting to the floor. Her empty hand kneads at her breast as her climax takes control.

I think I’m going to come again.

I snap a screenshot of the impassioned moment, saving it for later. She pants heavily, removing the vibrator from her slit. It glistens in the low light, and it makes me want to lick it clean. She lies there bare for a while. Not moving, not picking up her phone, not doing anything.

The rise and fall of her chest evens out. She pushes herself up into a sitting position while grabbing her underwear and slipping them back on. She hunches over the edge of the bed, picking her phone back up. The screen lights up as she taps on it, waking it up. Her finger swipes upward, closing the tab.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” she says, bewildered at her own decision. I shove myself back into my jeans and zip them up. Thick, milky splotches are caked onto my jeans. I know I don’t regret my decision. I can’t believe she got off looking at my mug shot… naughty girl. I’m already forcing my way through her mind and she doesn't even know it yet.

Chapter 26

The Stalker

Anotification from my phone blocks the top of my screen. And I quickly swipe up, removing it. Another comes right after, and I roll my eyes. I open my messages, seeing Zane’s name highlighted as unread. I open the text thread and I’m met with capitals.

Zane

WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU??

Zane

HELLO, EARTH TO ASSHOLE???

Me

WHAT

Zane

I’m tired of playing babysitter, get your grumpy ass here NOW!

Oh shit. It completely slipped my mind that I have some jackass tied up in my basement. Well… hopefully, in my basement. That’s if Zane could fucking follow directions. I let out a growl in frustration, not wanting to head home.

I shut my screen off and tuck my phone into my pocket. I tug the lower half of my shirt, rubbing it against the now white, soaked jeans, trying to create some friction. The stained color lightens, but doesn’t completely go away.

Damn it.

The last thing I need is Zane making fun of me. This is something he’ll never let me live down. I can already feel the fucking headache from it. I keep rubbing until it's barely visible. Fuck it, that’s good enough for me.

I lean forward, restarting my bike. The rumble is deafening in the quiet night. I rev my engine up a few times, just to be an asshole before taking off. No traffic is visible on the late-night streets, taking half the time to get to my house than it usually does.

I pull into my garage, already feeling déjà vu. I open the door that leads inside, and to my surprise, Zane actually followed directions. The door to the basement is down the hall past my kitchen; a slight indent in the structure indicates the door.

I swing it open a little too roughly, and the handle chips the drywall. Of fucking course. I close the door behind me, leaving the dusky basement lying ahead. Luckily, I'm not afraid of the dark. The dark should be afraid of me.

I head down the long flight of stairs, counting sixteen steps subconsciously. The floorboards creak beneath my heavy steps as I storm down. Zane has the captive still tied and bound to the same chair, this time sitting underneath my one lit bulb surrounded by darkness, making it look like a scene out of a horror movie.