Page 34 of Not Another Dark Romance

This is the last thing I want to be doing by myself. I assumed Grant and Eric would at least be here to talk to and take my mind off Mason, but nope. My shit luck continues, clearly.

I cut into the first of the stacked-up boxes and start pulling out the liquor bottles. We’d already previously labeled where we wanted everything to go on the shelves, so it’s easy. It’s not a ton of liquor either since this is a brewery, but we knew we needed options for the people who somehow don’t like beer.

By the time I open the third box, boredom is truly setting in, and my traitorous brain keeps thinking about how I’d be less bored listening to another audiobook. Mason rattled off some suggestions, but I don’t want to buy one of those yet on the off chance we end up listening to them together, and I’d have to admit to him that I’d already listened to it. Instead, I explore the suggested content and pick one that sounds interesting enough. No indication of kidnapping or being held hostage in the title. This should be exactly what I need to remind me of some normalcy in relationships. Not that I want a relationship. Especially not with the person I’m supposed to kill.

I hit play, and before long, I realize books are absolutely filthy these days. This one is starting off with a sex scene, for fuck’s sake. Maybe I should have found one between a man and a woman, but I honestly wasn’t even thinking about it when I was so focused on avoiding kidnappers. I knew the spice would come eventually, but I thought I’d have more time to prepare and maybe get home before it started. Instead, the narrator is describing dicks and holes, and I barely know a thing about who the characters are. But my cock doesn’t care. It’s thickening once again while I stand here alone in the middle of my best friends’ empty brewery.

Shit, why are these books so hot? Unfortunately, I think I’m reluctantly beginning to understand Mason’s obsession with the romance genre. There’s a reason sex sells, obviously, and all I can focus on between the narrator’s breathy grunts is the way Mason has begged me to touch him. How he adoringly calls me “Daddy” like he enjoys the power I hold over him. That name doesn’t particularly do anything for me, but the idea of having a claim over him sure as hell does. I think of how he looks with that fucking collar around his throat. I never would’ve thought I would find any of that particularly hot before, but now… fuck, it’s like I’m obsessed.

There’s no way anyone is going to come here, right? Grant is on a date, and Eric is at the dentist. I know for a fact they only have the security cameras turned on by the exits right now, so I’m out of their range… Fuck, what is wrong with me? My cock is fully aching now, and something about the thought of jerking off in a soon-to-be public place is getting me even harder. Mason’s exhibitionism must be rubbing off on me. He clearly loves to be watched and admired… or maybe he just wants to make sure I see him offering himself up to me in an attempt to be free.

Fuck it. I’m sick of ignoring how horny I am. My dick can’t wait. I unbuckle my belt before popping open the button and unzipping my pants. I brace myself against the counter with one hand while using the other to pull my dick out. It’s risky, but it’s not like I’ll even last long. I haven’t allowed myself to jerk off the whole time Mason’s been in my basement, trying to avoid him hearing with how thin the walls apparently are, but also because a part of me felt that doing so would mean admitting I’m attracted to him.

But who cares if I am, and that’s a big if.

There’s no lube in this bar, and I obviously didn’t bring any to work, so I spit in my hand… just like Mason did in my basement. Fuck, he’s all I can think about.

The audiobook is fading into the background as my hand twists around the head of my dick, smearing precum while I think of Mason’s falsely innocent face. How can he look so pure while being so filthy? He’s so unassuming with his round glasses and pink hair. He gives off more of an “adorable” vibe, not an “insane sexual menace” vibe like he actually is.

Fuck, I can’t stop thinking about him. My gut tightens as I picture his pretty blue eyes, the way he was bent over with his finger in his ass, the way he came all over himself and asked me to lick it up. I’ve never tasted cum, and I don’t think I’d like it, but at this point, who knows what the fuck I like. Not me, and I’m way too horny right now to care. My whole life has felt so boring compared to everything that’s happened since meeting Mason, and even though what he’s offered is so fucked up, a part of me is clearly into it.

My hand pumps faster and faster to thoughts of his throat with the collar I put on. It drives me crazy. What would he do if I replaced the collar with my hand? Now that I’m embracing the thoughts he has planted, I don’t know how I’ll possibly go home and not touch him like he offered. Images of what I could do flood my mind, sinking my cock into his mouth while tangling my fingers through his pink hair, punishing him for being so tempting, fucking his perfectly plump round ass while he’s chained up and mine.

“Ungh,” I moan loudly, and my orgasm slams into me without permission at the thought of being inside of him. “Holy shit.”

My breath is coming out in short gasps as I attempt to pull myself together after I come down from the high of my release. I can’t believe how hard that hit me. Granted, it’s been over a week since I came, but still.

I look at the floor beneath me and realize most of my cum landed there. I make quick work of wetting a paper towel to clean myself up before pulling up my pants and dropping down to clean up my release.

I look around the empty bar, feeling a bit strange about what I just did. I’ve never been that desperate to get off before, and even though I should probably be ashamed after doing it somewhere so public, I can’t find it in myself to feel anything other than exhilarated by exactly that.

I should feel relieved now that I’ve come, but all I want is to rush home to Mason and actually live out his supposed fantasies.

But that would be dumb. I need to kill him. Cover it up and forget that any of this ever happened. Need to go back to normal life with everyday stress like paying my bills and opening this new business.

I don’t even know if I’m actually into him, or if I’m just far more fucked up than I ever realized, and I’m getting off on having someone chained up under my control. Maybe I’m into even kinkier things than I typically watch in porn or have ever let myself consider, but I can explore that in ways that are actually legal, if I can pull off the whole murder thing first.

Fuck, I need to focus on my life without Mason. I have work to do, and on the off chance they call me back at the restaurant, I should be close by since I could really use the money.

I focus back on the audiobook and finish unpacking the last couple of boxes of liquor. I lose myself in the plot once it picks up, and I busy myself with other small tasks to keep listening.

Hours pass, and I give up on the idea of getting called back in. There’s nothing left to do here, so I reluctantly head out, locking up behind me.

Time to go home and face Mason while I pretend like I didn’t just get off, in the bar I own with my best friends, thinking about him chained up in my basement. Great.

15

I’m not sure what’s worse, staring at a blank canvas uninspired or being alone with nothing to do while Zane’s at work. My boredom has become so bad I’ve actually considered exercising with my new collared freedom.

“Maybe I can convince Zane to go to my house to get my art supplies for me. Do you think he’ll do that?” I say to Piet. “If he’s going to keep me trapped here forever, the least he could do is let me work. I do still have bills to pay. Everything is set up for autopay, but he doesn’t know that, and the funds will run out eventually. I don’t think he’ll want to take those on in addition to his mortgage, but who knows, he could surprise me.”

Piet doesn’t acknowledge me, as usual when I have one-sided conversations with him-slash-myself. “Hey, maybe you could ask him? He seems to do whatever you want, doesn’t he? While you’re at it, maybe you could put in a good word for me to get him to allow me to sleep in his bed? I could be a good little puppy, too.”

I wish I could blame the whole “talking to myself” thing on this kidnapping situation, but that’d be a lie. I’ve done it my entire life. Growing up, I didn’t have any siblings, and my parents tried to keep me entertained, but they were really focused on their careers. They haven’t explicitly said, but I think I was an “oopsie” baby. I mean, my mom was already forty, and they’ve never talked about wanting children or trying for me.

I didn’t exactly fit in with the other kids in my small, blue-collar town. I’ve never been great at blending in. Even before I realized I was attracted to the other boys, I think other people assumed I was gay. Talking to myself became a way to make the world less lonely, and apparently my childhood was actually great practice for me to prepare for the solitude of being stuck in Zane’s basement indefinitely.

I can’t help but wonder if he’s listening to one of the audiobooks I suggested. He tries to act uninterested, but I can see right through him. It’s clear he likes the books we’ve listened to so far. He’s an awful liar. Which is why I’m so confident he won’t kill me. There’s no way he’d ever actually be able to get away with murder. It’s almost cute he thinks he could, though.