Page 28 of Shared Obsession

He leans in, voice dropping to a husky suggestion. “I think I’d like to watch you suck Alex’s cock.”

My cheeks go up in flames. I freeze, every nerve buzzing. “Like… right now? Here? With both of you…?” My voice trails off, barely more than a whisper.

Alex doesn’t hesitate, his gaze dark and daring. “Yes, that’s exactly what he means, my darling," he says, his tone full of challenge. He waits, wanting to see what I’ll do.

I think about the day Alex brought me home with him, my mind replaying the memory of his piercings, the way he looked stripped bare—and honestly, I can’t help but be curious how it would feel on my tongue, down my throat. I bite my lip, embarrassed but undeniably tempted. “I don’t know if I can… your piercings,” I admit, my cheeks burning with a mix of shyness and intrigue as my eyes drop to the ground.

I hear the soft, unmistakable sound of Alex unzipping his jeans, and I look up, locking eyes with him. His gaze is so dark I can almost see straight into his soul—all I see there is pure, ravenous desire. He pulls his cock free with an easy confidence, already rock hard in his hand, and the firelight dances along the eight silver barbells spaced perfectly up the underside, each one catching the light and making him look almost unreal. I can’t look away, heat blooming deep inside me, nerves and want colliding.

He gives me a reassuring smile, his voice low and coaxing. “It’s okay, darling. The only way to get better is to practice. One at a time.”

I drop to my knees in front of Alex, every nerve alight, my breath coming fast and shallow. Zayn’s words in my head: You deserve to want what you want. I’m so wet I can feel it slick between my thighs, and I don’t care—if anything, being watched by them only makes the ache inside me worse. Fuck, what is wrong with me? I want them to see how much I want this, how shamelessly turned on I am, how hungry I am to be the center of their attention.

I wrap my lips around the head of Alex’s cock, swirling my tongue in slow, teasing circles. The first barbell glides over my tongue—cool, heavy, and utterly intoxicating. “One,” Alex murmurs, his voice dark and commanding, and my pulse jumps. My body thrums with pleasure, desperate for more. I pause, letting my tongue explore every ridge and piercing, tasting the salt of his skin, the faint tang of metal. I can feel the tension in his thighs, the way his breath hitches, and it makes me want to show off, to prove I can take everything he gives me.

His hand slides into my hair, gentle at first, fingers threading through the strands as he guides me down another inch. “Two.” The taste of him fills my mouth, and I moan, letting him—and everyone—know how much I am enjoying myself. I let my mouth linger, savoring the sensation of him stretching my lips, the way each new barbell drags a gasp from his throat. He urges me lower, and two more barbells drag over my tongue. “Three. Four.” The stretch makes me whimper around him, my thighs pressed tightly together, slick with my arousal, my whole body focused on the slow, relentless invasion of my mouth.

I settle into a rhythm, taking him deeper, loving the way he groans above me. I know I look filthy, drool slipping from my lips. Alex’s grip tightens, and he guides me even lower—“Six. Seven”—and holds me there, his cock buried deep down my throat. Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t care. I want to give him everything, want them all to see how much I need this. I choke a little, my throat stretched wide, and the sound makes Alex’s hips jerk, his breath sharp and broken with want. I pull back slowly, sucking air through my nose, then sink down again, letting each barbell bump over my tongue, counting them in my head as the pressure and pleasure build.

He finally lets me up, and I blink at him, mouth slick, eyes glassy with need. “You look so pretty right now,” he growls, dragging his thumb over my cheek, his eyes burning with hunger. He doesn’t give me much time to recover—his grip tightens in my hair, guiding me back down, a little rougher this time, making it clear who’s in control. “But you look even prettier with my cock in your mouth.” The possessive edge in his voice sends a fresh wave of heat through me, making my heart race and my pussy throb. I moan in answer, letting him feel the vibration, letting him know how much I love being used like this, how much I want to be everything for him.

Zayn’s voice rumbles from beside me. “Damn right she does.” The grit in his tone vibrates through me, his presence as commanding as Alex’s. I can feel their eyes on me, which only makes me want to put on a better show. I know how to put on a damn good show. I hollow my cheeks, swirling my tongue around Alex, savoring the taste and feel of him, and moan low in my throat. My eagerness grows with every sound of their approval, every muttered curse, every ragged breath. I work Alex’s cock in and out of my mouth, letting him set the pace—sometimes slow and shallow, sometimes deep enough to make my eyes water. I let myself drool down his shaft, making it wetter, messier, filthier.

The feeling is overwhelming, made sharper by the heat of their gazes—them watching me. My free hand slips between my thighs, fingers rubbing frantic circles over my clit. I can barely breathe, the pleasure building fast, desperate, unstoppable. “Fuck yes, baby, make yourself cum with his cock down your throat,” Dean growls from behind me. The command is like a spark on gasoline, sending a bolt of pleasure straight through me, making my whole body tremble. My orgasm builds, fast and hot, my hips rocking.

I moan around Alex, the vibration making him groan, his hand tightening almost possessively in my hair. My orgasm hits—white-hot, blinding—my thighs shaking as that tingly sensation crashes through me in relentless waves. Alex thrusts deep, holding me there—and through the haze, I hear his low, strained voice count, “Eight,” right as he bottoms out, making sure I feel every last barbell dragging over my tongue. The thick pulse of his cum spills down my throat as I choke on the intensity, tears slipping from the corners of my eyes. I’m left trembling and spent, undone and gasping for air, the aftershocks rippling through every inch of my body, raw and desperate for more.

As the aftershocks fade, the rush of pleasure is quickly crowded out by a surge of shame and guilt that makes my skin prickle. Embarrassment clamps down hard; I can’t quite look at any of them, the taste of Alex still heavy on my tongue, my lips swollen, my face hot. I want to disappear—crawl under the bed, scrub the memory from my skin, anything. My mind is already spiraling: Was I too eager? Too desperate? Did I look pathetic, hungry, like someone with no self-respect? I replay every moan, every gasp, every time I let myself get lost in it, and the pride I felt a moment ago curdles into mortification. They saw everything—every messy, greedy part of me—and now I’m sure I’ll never live it down.

I stand, brushing off my knees, and mumble, “I’m going to bed,” my voice tight and small. I move to leave, but before I can escape, Alex gently catches my wrist.

“Ayla, hey,” he says softly, his voice a lifeline in the thick silence. He doesn’t try to pull me closer, just speaks so only I can hear. “Look at me for a second.”

I force myself to meet his eyes, expecting judgment, or worse—pity. But all I see is warmth and tenderness.

“There’s nothing you need to be ashamed of,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing soothing circles over my wrist. “You were beautiful. You are beautiful. I don’t want you hiding from me—or from yourself. Not ever.” His gaze is steady, unwavering. “We wanted you. Every part of you. And if you ever feel overwhelmed or want space, that’s okay too. But don’t you dare hide away in shame. Not for this. Not for anything.”

His words settle over me, soft and careful, and some of the tightness in my chest loosens. I nod, not trusting myself to say anything, and slip away toward my room—still shaken, but a little less broken.

Chapter Fifteen

Zayn

Ayla goes inside, leaving the rest of us in a rare lull. We sit quietly for a beat, watching her silhouette disappear into the glow of the cabin. “Man, she’s really something,” I say, unable to keep the awe out of my voice.

Alex smirks, glancing between Dean and me. “Yeah… She is. And honestly, if the sexual tension between you two gets any thicker, I’m going to have to start charging rent for the air out here. Or at least get you a hose.”

Dean immediately chokes on his drink, spluttering. “A hose? What, you planning to spray us down if we get too hot?”

I shoot Alex a look, but he’s loving the chaos, hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just trying to protect my innocent eyes. And my property value. The insurance company doesn’t cover spontaneous combustion.”

Dean nudges me, stage-whispering, “I think he’s just jealous. He wishes someone looked at him like that.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Honestly, man, I think Ayla looked at him like that earlier. Did you see the way she worked him? I was expecting a marriage proposal by the end of that dance.”

Alex rolls his eyes with a smirk. “Ayla was amazing, I’ll give you that—girl’s got moves. I was not complaining. But please, if I wanted that kind of attention, I’d just walk around shirtless. You’d both be drooling.”

I snort. “Keep dreaming, man. The only thing you’d get is a citation for disturbing the peace.”