Devious Obsession

by S. Massery

To the devious ones who satisfy our dark desires

She’s staring at me with these huge fucking eyes, like she’s never seen someone like me before. And I haven’t even done anything. But suddenly, I want to blow her fucking mind. I want to show her every shadow in my soul, just to get that shocked reaction from her again.

“I’m going to take what I need from you,” I tell her in a low voice. “And then we’ll focus on the twisted shit you crave.”

“What was it that woke up your sweet little cunt?” I ask in a low voice. “The people in the room who watched you choke on my dick? Or me ordering you around?”

“Your dark fantasies,” I remind her. “You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”

There are those people who you just have a connection with immediately, and my stranger is one of them. In the most magnetic, damning ways. Good girl falls for bad boy. Cliche. Avoid.

“You’re soaked,” he says in my ear. “You’re a fucking slut for this, aren’t you?”

“You gonna get off like this?” His voice is in my ear again, his weight bearing down on my back. “I want to feel you come knowing that I can twist you any way I want and you’re helpless to stop it. My cock sliding into you is the worst sort of intrusion. The one you want the most and the one you can’t fight off.”

When I was little, I wanted a white knight to come sweep me away from my terrible life. I wanted the horse, the shining armor, the sword. The knight would slay my monsters and carry me off into the sunset. But like most fantasies, that didn’t happen.

But I do know this much: she’s going to be begging to drop out by the time I’m through with her.

“You have a safe word, little viper.” “Why do you call me that?” He chuckles. “Because you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Because you’re beautiful. Because you’re sin. Because you’re a distraction. And I’ve never hated anyone more than you,” he confesses. He leans forward and presses his lips to my chest.

If she was wearing my jersey, no one would touch her.

Do I like him? Not particularly. Am I attracted to him? Too fucking much.

“His jersey, his cum…” I shrug. “Bet you got neither when he fucked you, right?”

Then she turns away and goes over to the pool table, yanking one of the sticks off the wall. Maybe she should go fuck herself with it—she’d have better luck. Rude, Aspen.

“You’re the sweetest fucking dessert I’ve ever had,”

For the last time, Aspen, he’s not your knight in shining armor.

Sometimes, monsters are about people.

“Come on my cock like the little slut you are. And after I use you some more, you’re going to come again. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Except Steele’s the one who set me off, and I have to trust that he’ll keep me from falling, too.

What does it say about me that I like this?

“You should go straight home,” I murmur. “I was planning on taking you home,” he says. I lift my shoulder. “Girls will want to ravage you if they see your dick swinging in your gray sweatpants. It’s that season.” “What season?” I roll my eyes. “Gray sweatpants season.

Great. Just what he needs—more ego.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” I ask her loudly. “You’re supposed to be with me.” “Is that a rule?” “When you’re my girlfriend, yes.”

Love is this fragile little thing, wrapped in trust and respect. If one of its shells cracks, the love can break. Or—sometimes it just means that love becomes more jagged. Fucked-up shards of love, cutting everyone and everything.

Steele returns to the ice, skating toward us. He points at me and gives me a full-toothed smile. Even with his mouth guard, his teeth are stained pink with blood.

Trust is one of those fragile things that may or may not break. And he’s got it for now—somehow. Impossibly. Now I just have to hope he doesn’t smash it—and me—to dust. Because that, I won’t come back from.

The sight of her in my jersey has me hard for her. Aching. And her sitting on the Zamboni like a princess just does something extra to me, too.

It’s… I don’t know. Nice, I guess. In an unexpected way. Like we just went through battle and now he’s trying to heal me from the inside out. And I let him. That’s the strangest part. I let him heal me. I give him all the bad parts—well, not all. There are so many more pieces of me coated in blood and ash that he has yet to see—and he takes them like they’re precious. Gifts, even.

“So help me god, Aspen, if you finish that sentence…” I shake my head. “You’re mine. Okay? Here, there, on fucking Mars. There’s nothing you can say or do that’s going to derail me from you.”