Page 35 of Brutal Obsession

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My gut clenches, but I follow her toward him. It’s like she’s got me on a leash, trailing me along behind her. I watch her sink to her knees in front of him.

This is a test for me as much as it is for her. I need to withstand this, because the alternative is too devastating to comprehend. I’ve never been possessive over someone before—certainly not a girl. Certainly not one like Violet.

She reaches out and unbuckles Steele’s pants, then reaches in and frees his cock. Her movements are quick and sure, but she’s not rushing. The asshole is already hard, not that I can blame him. I ball my hands into fists and keep them by my side, then force myself to take a seat near the lockers on the far wall. I have a view of her. I’m almost level with her face when I sit.

She licks her lips, casting a quick glance in my direction. “You having regrets, Devereux?” she asks.

I narrow my eyes.

She inches forward, wrapping her hand around the base of him. He lets out a groan, his head tilting back. She takes him in her mouth, tasting first, and then she lets out a noise of her own. A whimper. Like he tastes…good.

White-hot fury goes through me in waves. A pulse that rocks my whole body.

Violet moves forward, her eyes closing for the barest moment as she takes him deeper. She sucks, and her cheeks hollow with the action. She pulls back and looks up at Steele.

“You like that, baby?” She licks him from base to tip, then swallows him whole again. It’s so fucking erotic, like she’s trying to win a blow job contest.

This is better—and infinitely worse—than any grainy video on my phone.

Steele groans again, and his fingers fist in her hair. He lets her control the pace for all of two seconds, then takes over. He thrusts into her mouth, and she makes a gagging noise. Tears spill down her cheeks.

It’s fucking beautiful. It makes me rock-hard in a split second.

Steele ignores it and keeps pushing into her mouth. He’s big, and I’m sure the head of his cock is going down her throat. She gags again, and her wet eyes flutter open. She grips his thighs, trying to push away, but he’s got her in an iron hold.

Her helplessness turns me on even more, even as the anger drives me higher. I hate the sight of one of my best friends face fucking her. I hate that he’s the one touching her hair, that her mouth is closed around him.

I thought I could stand it, but I can’t.

Her eyes roll to me. The tears mix with the drool spilling from her lips. The noise is toxic. Grating. I’m going to hit Steele in the fucking balls.

I rise and go toward them before I can help myself.

Steele doesn’t notice me in front of him until it’s too late—but I’m too late. He comes in her mouth, and I see red.

I yank her away from him. My grip on her hair and arm is too strong, and Steele’s fingers slide away. He’s still coming, a low hiss slipping from his mouth as his cock jerks in the air. His cum hits her in the side of the face, her neck. Ropes of it.

She leans to the side and spits his cum on the floor, and satisfaction fills me. It eases some of the brutality that’s coursing through my veins. But not enough to stop me from what I want to do next.

“Get out,” I bark at Steele.

He lets out a breath and shakes his head, staring down at Violet. “That video didn’t do that fucking justice. Holy shit.”

“Get. Out,” I roar.

He chuckles and tucks his dick back into his pants. He takes his time with it, and I clench and unclench my fists. Violet kneels between us, her head bowed. He adjusts himself, wearing a knowing smirk. And he nods at me on his way out.

I look down at Violet. She’s an absolute fucking mess. Her mascara is streaked down her face, the blue eye makeup mixing with the black. It gives her a bruised appearance. Her lipstick has smeared. Who the fuck wears blue lipstick?

Like a knockoff version of a Goth girl. Before anyway.

She’s got his cum on her face, and she makes no move to wipe it away. She makes no move to do anything at all, actually. She just kneels in front of me, glaring at the floor like she doesn’t know who to blame more—me or herself.

It’s my fault—but not the way she thinks.

I slowly undo my pants and shove them down. She sucks her lower lip between her teeth and bites down. She draws blood. It bubbles up on her lower lip, staining her front teeth.

Good. In the most fucked-up way possible, I’m looking forward to her blood on my dick. I step forward, and she leans back. Her head tips back, too, and she keeps her gaze locked on me.


Tags: S. Massery Romance