Page 14 of Black Light: Cured

pleasures on their bodies and handling my own needs afterward. But there’s something about Lila,

something that calls to me, begging me to mark her, to splatter my cum over every inch of her body.

She needs a pearl necklace and needles in her skin. She needs a leash dripping in diamonds as I

walk her along the club, showing the other Dominants and submissives where her true place is—not

‘healing’ them but submitting to me.

There’s so much that I want to do to her, but I can’t. Not yet. Not until she’s under my control

instead of another man’s. Pulling back, I ignore the blatant look of longing on her face and storm off,

heading to the showers. Since I can’t mark her like I want to, I’ll just have to paint the shower walls

with my lust.

Irritation slithers up my spine as I ignore the other scenes on my way to the locker room. Right

now, none of them hold my attention. All I can see when I close my eyes is her startling blue eyes and

her mouth parting as she sighs. I need to get her under me so I can get over her. I have no clue what the

pull is, what the allure is, but I know how to get rid of it.

I’ve played with women that were just as beautiful as she was, and yet, none of them made me

want to defile them. Cut them? Hell yes. Slide needles into their skin? Of course. But fuck them? Not

really. Perhaps it’s the need to debase her, to show her where her rightful place is. None of my other

submissives have made a career out of lying to others, not like she has.

Granted, I have no clue what most of them did, so there could have been others, but for some

reason, Lila has embedded herself in my brain and is not letting go. It has to be that vulnerability I

saw shining through earlier—the tremble of her lips, her hands, her body as she put herself in Dillon’s

care.

She’s a temporary obsession, and I know obsessions are unhealthy. I don’t have to be a shrink to

know that.

The best course of action is to sign up for one of her ‘massages,’ play with her, fuck her senseless,

then get on with my life. Shaking my head, I slam open the door to the showers and look around.

Normally, I don’t care if anyone else sees me jerking off, but for some reason, this feels different. I

don’t want anyone else to know the power this massage therapist has over me.

Walking over to the lockers, I slip out of my clothes and hang them up before grabbing a towel and

heading to an open shower. Perhaps it would be best for me to just douse myself with cold water and

be done with it, but I’d still have to get myself off later.