Page 40 of Not Another Dark Romance

I nod, and he smacks my cheek one more time before gripping my face again with both hands. His thrusts become erratic, and his cum floods my throat as he grunts. Despite my promise to him, I don’t swallow it all, saving a small amount in my mouth, releasing him when he’s completely spent and pulling away with a satisfied groan. “Fucking hell, Pet.”

Oh my god, was that another nickname? I preen at the affection in his tone. My dick is desperate, and as I’m catching my breath through my nose, I shove my pants down from where I’m still on my knees. I spit into my hand, using the cum I saved from his orgasm to coat my cock. My hand moves vigorously, no time for warm-ups or teasing, not when he just helped me live out one of my fantasies so spectacularly.

Zane’s eyes widen as he watches me, still clearing up from his post-orgasm bliss. He’s now fully alert when it clicks what I just did, and his gaze is locked on my hand working my shaft with his cum as lube. A slow, predatory grin spreads across his face as he puts his pants back on.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “You really do love this, huh. So fucking desperate for me, you couldn’t even wait to get off on your own time, and you had to use my cum to do it.”

I moan, my head falling back as I stroke myself faster, letting the collar put tension against my throat. His words light me on fire from the inside, and I try to play into the nicknames that finally broke through his resistance. “You… you did this to me, Master. And it’s all your time anyway. You own me.”

“Fuck, that’s so hot.” He stalks back to me, standing over me, shadowing me with his body. He reaches down, and his thumb traces my jaw. “Show me how much you need me.”

Now that he’s finally given in, Zane seems to be as into this as I am, just like I knew he’d be. Fuck, I want to make this good for him. I pump my fist, and the sound of his cum on my cock is filthy. I’m so close already though, so wound up from his reaction, from having him in my mouth, the taste of him still on my tongue.

“Open your mouth,” he commands.

I obey, lips parting as I continue to stroke myself and stick my tongue out. He leans down slightly, and for a heart-stopping moment, I think he might kiss me. But instead, he spits directly into my mouth. It’s degrading and possessive and so fucking hot I can’t stand it.

“Swallow,” he orders.

I do, my throat working as his command pushes me over the edge and my orgasm slams into me. I cry out as my body tenses and releases, spilling all over my hand and onto the concrete floor beneath me. I slump forward, head resting against his leg as I try to catch my breath.

“Get up.” He reaches down to help me stand and yanks my pants back on. Then he pulls his keys out of his pocket. I don’t know what’s happening, but before I can think, he’s unlocking the chain from around the pole. “You’re a mess. And your dinner is definitely cold now.”

18

Igrab the bag of food and loop the chain a few times around my palm so the length is easier to manage. Then I tug to test it, thrilled at the way he lurches forward as I pull. “Come on, Pet,” I demand, using the new nickname I blurted out in the heat of the moment but now think I might be kind of obsessed with. And fuck, the way he called me “Master” was a high I’ve never experienced.

I lead Mason up the stairs like he’s a dog on a leash.

And I fucking love it.

I have never felt this kind of rush before. It’s more than just sexual desire or the excitement that’s come with hooking up with a man for the first time. This is pure fucking power that’s making me feel like I’m more important than anything else ever has. Like I’m invincible even.

Mason handed me complete control—and sure, I might’ve technically already had it with him being my prisoner—but before today I’ve been fighting it. I’ve felt too guilty to embrace the position I’m in with him. I was thinking too hard about what kind of person it would make me if I not only have a man trapped in my basement but also if I enjoy having him there.

But I’m done pretending like I don’t fucking love the feeling of owning him.

And I think he might actually love it too.

Fuck, I wish we’d ended up here in a more legal way. I wish I could really trust him to enjoy this while we’re alone, and then I could let him go without fear of him turning me in and ruining my life forever.

Even as I have the thought, I know we never would’ve ended up in these positions had I not thought I killed him. Before all this, I was way too cautious to have tried anything this kinky, not to mention I’d never considered sex with another man.

But now, how the fuck am I supposed to kill him? It’s not fair that I have to decide between living out fantasies with him and my freedom.

I can’t give this up now that I’ve had a taste of how truly incredible it is. And the thought of returning to the way things were before Mason? It doesn’t hold the appeal it used to, or that it probably should.

Today was the final crack in the resolve of normalcy I’d been clinging to so desperately. Now it’s shattered, revealing just how fucked up I really am, and I don’t want to go back. I want to keep him.

Maybe forever.

I want to lock him up in my house as my good little pet, a plaything that I can fuck and order around whenever I feel like it. Or even ignore if it pleases me. Punish when he deserves it.

Whatever I want because he’s mine. I own him.

Logically, I know it’s fucked up, but now that I’m aware of how much I enjoy it, I can’t unlearn it. I don’t want to. My best bet is to just embrace it with someone who’s apparently as equally fucked up as me. Enjoy the time I have left with him, and hope Grant and Eric recover from whatever fallout my inevitable arrest causes.

Because at this point, I think it really is inescapable.