Page 1 of Obey

ONE

MADDOX

My loud breaths fill the room, interspersed by his grunts.

Anybody who walks by outside can probably hear us, no matter how desperately I’m trying to swallow all of my sounds. I can’t really stop the shelf from rattling as he pounds into me, though.

The broom that’s propped up on the wall next to me shakes every time I get pushed into the wall. It’s going to tip over soon. I should say something, but I know that if I do, he’ll stop, pull out, and leave me unsatisfied.

“Take it,” Knives growls, slamming into me even harder. “You aren’t too much of a coward for that, are you?”

I squeeze my eyes tight, trying to let the words slide off of me like water off a duck’s back.

I always do, when it comes to him. I have to, if I’m going to get past his needling and snark and… well-deserved loathing.

Why do I do this to myself?

I shove back up against him, desperately pleading without words for him to keep going.

I need it.

I need him.

Knives digs his fingers even harder into my hips. I don’t know if he’s doing it on purpose, but I like that hint of pain.

If he knew I liked it, he’d probably stop that too, actually.

I squeeze my ass tighter and bite down on my lip at the next drag of his cock against my prostate.

Knives suddenly grabs the back of my neck and squeezes, sending another jolt of pleasure through me. “If you want to come, you’d better do it now. I’m not touching your cock.”

I want to protest, but if I piss him off, he might come all over my shirt like he did the last time. I don’t have time to find a spare shirt somewhere in the mansion.

I grab my own cock, pumping furiously as I try to bring myself closer to climax. I’m going to make a mess, but it’s better than being denied.

I’m on the edge when I feel his thrusts turn erratic. His hand on my neck twists, threatening to grab me by the throat instead and constrict my breathing.

I wish he would, no matter how dumb that is.

I berate myself yet again for being so passive, so willing to take what he gives me without daring to ask for a single thing in turn. He uses me like I’m a cocksleeve, and I beg him for more with every choked-back cry and tremble of my body.

I should stop this. I should tell him no. I shouldn’t let myself be trapped in fucking closets with him when I know perfectly well how it’s going to go.

Knives lets out a low groan. I assume he’s coming, and I wish we could do this without condoms.

That’s stupid and impractical though. I should be glad he’s using a condom. Clean-up would be hell otherwise, especially when we’re short on time.

An ugly part of me whispers that it’s probably a good idea because I don’t know how many other men he’s fucking. If he has these quick fucks with me, whom he hates with a passion, how many other casual one-night-stands does he have?

I wish the thought didn’t make me so despondent.

My hand stills on my cock, my own orgasm a mere afterthought.

Knives pulls out with barely a grunt. My ass clenches around the emptiness.

I don’t turn to watch him as he zips up his slacks. I hear the lid of the trashcan swing, then the closet door opens and shuts. He’s gone without a single word.

He’d only spoken twice: once, to order me against the wall, then to tell me he wouldn’t touch my cock. That might be better than the few times when he hadn’t spoken to me at all during these trysts.

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