My Obsession

by Cassie Ryan

  My Obsession is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A Loveswept eBook Original

  Copyright © 2015 by Cassie Ryan

  Excerpt from Commanded by Stacey Kennedy copyright © 2015 by Stacey Kennedy

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

  LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

  eBook ISBN 9781101883815

  Cover design: Caroline Teagle

  Cover photograph: © conrado/Shutterstock

  readloveswept.com

  v4.1

  ep

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  By Cassie Ryan

  About the Author

  The Editor’s Corner

  Excerpt from Commanded

  Chapter 1

  Sandra’s blood raced through her veins as she approached the large double doors of the very elite Club Desire, set high on Camelback Mountain in Paradise Valley, Arizona.

  Her old dungeon in New York had looked like an office building compared to this semi-gothic castle that had seemingly erupted out of the desert mountainside. The explosions of stars scattered across the dark sky behind it only added to the effect.

  Even the energy surrounding this place exuded sex and kink like musky perfume lacing through the tang of creosote and desert night. If she hadn’t come here willingly, she might feel like a fairy princess being lured to her doom. If she were very lucky, it would be an erotic doom.

  She smiled at the thought and forced her attention to the man standing just to the side of the large double doors. As she approached, he gave her the same head-to-toe perusal that most men did.

  She mentally shrugged. After all, this was a sex club, not a YMCA. Here it wasn’t rude to peruse a stranger like that.

  The man was attractive and well muscled, but from the way he carried himself she could tell he wasn’t a Dom. Maybe an employee who was a kink enthusiast?

  “Good evening. How may I help you?” His voice confirmed her opinion. Not that he wasn’t masculine; he definitely was. But Doms had a certain air about them, a certain underlying arrogance and presence that laced their every word and action, in or out of the dungeon. A description that most Doms would balk at. And something that this man lacked.

  Sandra rolled her eyes at her inner monologue and gripped the envelope in her hand a little tighter until the sound of the crumpling paper made her stop. She hesitated for a long moment, trying to find something coherent to say. She finally settled on, “I’m here to petition for membership?” She held up the crumpled envelope, locking her knees against the urge to leave.

  She’d just run from New York to the familiar city where she’d grown up. She’d risked dredging up old, painful memories to come here, so she refused to run again.

  She would rebuild her life here, and wouldn’t let anyone tell her otherwise. Now she had to figure out how to make that happen, and how to keep her resolve strong while she did.

  The man held out his hand and she placed the envelope on his open palm. She’d never even broken the seal, so she wasn’t sure what her old Dungeon Master had written. He’d only told her that if she ever wished to join this particular dungeon he knew the owner, and he had given her a written recommendation.

  Now that she’d handed it over, curiosity burned inside her to know what he’d said about her. But it was too late to ask for it back now.

  “Please, come inside.” The man opened one of the large doors, and a welcome wall of cold air hit them. “We’re a few months from when the summer nights are nearly as hot as the days, but it’s still a bit warm out here.”

  He motioned her inside and down a hallway to a comfortable waiting area surrounded by large windows that looked out over the main floor of the dungeon. Or at least she assumed this was the main floor. There were few basement levels in Phoenix.

  Sandra took a chair that gave her the best view of the floor and the play currently in progress. She was alone in the waiting area, so she shamelessly leaned closer to the glass to soak up all the erotic details of the scenes before her.

  Wet heat flooded her core. She definitely missed this.

  Sandra had discovered she liked to watch—especially the things she was too much of a coward to try for herself, which seemed to encompass a lot so far. She hadn’t really explored too many of the different kinks. At the New York club, she had made friends with the other subs and gotten comfortable with the idea of the overall lifestyle. From there it had been easy to meet a Dom she liked and begin to explore the lifestyle that way.

  The play session directly in front of her involved a short, curvy woman wearing only a red thong with a matching red rope wrapped around her torso so that it lifted and plumped her full breasts—a push-up bra, bondage-style. Her arms were stretched high over her head, her wrists bound in the same red rope and attached to large rings, strategically placed for a myriad of kinks and purposes. She stood barefoot, balanced on the balls of her feet since her arms were stretched so high, but the way she moved conveyed arousal and sensuality—anything but discomfort.

  The skin of her shapely ass was already striped with red marks from the leather straps of the flogger her Dom currently wielded.

  The man stood with the confident stance of a Dom, dressed in black leather pants and a sleeveless vest. He held the flogger loosely, his hungry gaze devouring the sub before him, his hard cock easily visible against the front of his tight pants.

  His face held an intensity as the next blow fell, and Sandra clenched her jaw, waiting to hear the sound of leather hitting flesh. Too many years of surviving abuse from her mother had left her with a phobia of those types of sounds. But when the sound never came, she relaxed and enjoyed the flash of arousal spiced with adrenaline that spiked through her veins.

  Unable to help herself, she reached up and pinched both of her nipples, hard, grinding against the chair to try to relieve the sudden throbbing in her sadly neglected body. As the flogger hit again, she stifled a soft moan and took a quick look around and behind her to make sure she was still alone. She grabbed the cloth of her knee-length peasant skirt and pulled it up so it was bunched around her upper thighs. She spread her legs as wide as the material would allow and slipped her fingers under the crotch of her lacy panties to pleasure herself.

  The first touch made her bite her bottom lip, holding back the urge to moan.

  When the Dom laid the flogger aside on a nearby table and approached his sub, Sandra stilled, wondering what he would do next.

  Her stomach tightened in anticipation until he laid a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder and leaned down to whisper something into her ear. Before Sandra could gauge the sub’s reaction, the Dom grabbed the woman’s thong with both hands and ripped it off, tossing the shredded material off to the side of their play area.

 
As a shudder ran along the sub’s body, Sandra gasped at the sharp rush of adrenaline laced with excitement that stormed through her.

  The Dom dropped his pants, kicking them away, allowing his hard cock to spring free.

  Sandra shifted, opening her thighs wider, sliding the crotch of her panties to the side and welcoming the cool air against her soaking center. She leaned forward and slid her first two fingers inside her pussy as far as she could, her internal muscles squeezing around them, while she still rubbed her clit with her thumb. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough to satisfy her cravings.

  Sandra felt a ping of jealousy toward the woman below, who was most likely about to be fucked, and fucked hard. It had been far too long since Sandra had enjoyed a real man’s cock. She didn’t count her old Dom, Diego, since she hadn’t enjoyed his rough play.

  The Dom picked up a small packet off the table nearby that held his supply of sex toys, recapturing Sandra’s attention and saving her from past memories.

  When he ripped open the package, Sandra licked her lips as he rolled on the condom, trying to imagine how that thick length would feel stretching her, filling her.

  Anticipation beat inside her along with her racing pulse, and for a moment, she could imagine herself trussed up with that rope, waiting to be fucked by that Dom.

  Sandra was shocked at her thoughts since she had never wanted to be tied up—trapped and helpless—before. Especially after her experiences with Diego. She enjoyed watching it, but this was the first time she had ever been able to imagine herself in that position without panicking.

  She watched as the Dom stepped forward and slowly rotated his sub around to face him, the ring over her head swiveling easily to accommodate the change in position.

  He leaned down and grabbed the back of both of her thighs, lifting her until she could wrap her legs around his waist.

  Reaching between them, he positioned his cock at her entrance and then leaned forward to kiss her and knead her breasts.

  The woman squirmed, trying to take more of his cock, but he held her away, not allowing her much movement.

  She bucked and nipped at his lips, seemingly in protest of his denial, but then he smacked her ass hard.

  Sandra braced for the sub’s further punishment, but then the Dom grabbed her ass in both hands and thrust inside, hard and fast.

  Sandra blew out a breath as relief slid through her. The Doms in New York hadn’t let the subs off so easily, even for such a small infraction. Maybe this place truly would be a better fit for her, both inside the Club and out.

  The sub squirmed and arched, her head hanging back limply on her shoulders, her mouth open as if she were screaming or moaning as her Dom pounded into her.

  Sandra’s internal muscles clenched, begging for her pussy to be filled too. But instead, she could only rub her clit harder and faster as she watched the action play out in front of her.

  Her orgasm hovered just out of reach and she scooted forward in the chair, desperate to reach her release, while moving her free hand to pinch her nipples, twisting until a hard zing ran between the two erogenous zones.

  The sound of a throat clearing behind her broke the sensual haze surrounding her, and then she heard, “Master Brent will see you now, miss.”

  Sandra jumped like a guilty child, silently cursing the man for his poor timing as her elusive orgasm slipped away.

  She wondered how long he’d been standing in the doorway, but then decided she didn’t care. After all, he wasn’t under any delusions about why she had come here, so she tried not to be embarrassed about enjoying the show—although she wished he would have given her a few more minutes.

  She stood quickly, dropping and smoothing her skirt into place, not bothering to worry about the crotch of her panties still bunched to one side. She wondered briefly if he could smell her arousal. A quick glance down at the hard outline tenting his dress slacks told her he probably could, or he at least had enjoyed watching her enjoying the show.

  Heat flooded her cheeks and she turned her face away to give her blush time to die down.

  “Thank you,” she managed as she followed him down the hall to a door she wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t stopped in front of it. He pressed a button and she realized belatedly that it was an elevator.

  Whoever had designed this place had done a wonderful job. Even with the medieval feel of the outside, the inside was both modern and mysterious, which only served to heighten the erotic atmosphere surrounding her.

  When they reached their floor, the doors opened directly into a large office. Piercing blue eyes captured hers immediately, locking her in place.

  A flash of familiarity hit her before disappearing under the weight of that very intense gaze.

  The owner of those eyes, a man with broad shoulders and rugged, almost harsh features, sat behind a huge oak desk. He stood, gesturing her inside before he walked around the desk toward her, in movements so fluid they mesmerized her. She’d never seen anyone move with such grace, and yet such definite authority and presence. His body was tight and toned, and she would bet he had sculpted abs and wonderfully muscled arms and shoulders under that expensive dress shirt.

  Before she realized she’d stepped forward, the elevator doors shushed closed behind her and his large hands settled over hers. She tipped her head back to look up into a stunningly handsome face, wondering how she could ever have thought his features were harsh. They were hard and masculine. However, those blue eyes and full lips were both sensual and commanding, and made the entire combination striking.

  “Welcome to Club Desire, Ms. Barry.” His voice sent her body into overdrive. It was deep and resonant, and made her pussy clench, begging to be filled like she’d seen down on the dungeon floor. She could imagine hanging from that rope, even as the fibers gently bit into her wrists and across her torso, leaving soft marks she would still see the next day. Even as the man before her pounded his cock into her again and again until her orgasm raged and she let loose her scream.

  God, she was wet. She should be embarrassed, but she was too horny and keyed up to even care if the whole world knew about it at this point.

  He watched her like a predator watches its prey, his gaze intense.

  Sandra was surprised to find she wasn’t in any way frightened by him, even though he was a million times more imposing than Diego, her last Dom, could ever hope to be. There was something about his gaze that unfurled the last hard knot of unease she’d carried deep inside her gut since she’d boarded the plane for Phoenix three days ago.

  The sexy man who had captured her attention walked around her in a slow circle, examining her with dark appreciation in his eyes. He radiated Dom with every breath. It was as if the entire world was his to do with as he wished.

  And damn if that wasn’t sexy as hell.

  She resisted the urge to rub herself against him like a cat and bask in the very masculine scent that emanated from him. Nothing specific she could name, except virility, sex, and power all rolled into something that filled her senses and made her want to beg—although she wasn’t quite sure for what. Maybe the elusive orgasm her body still screamed for?

  Yes, that was worth begging for—especially from this man.

  He stopped circling and looked down at her, the edges of his lips curving enough to make her suspect he might know what she’d been thinking.

  Her inner submissive raged to life, even though she’d never fully given herself over to anyone.

  But she recognized in this man a Dom who could both master her and care for her. Something she had never believed coexisted in one man until now.

  She’d come here thinking to indulge her love of watching, her voyeuristic tendencies that had begun to sprout.

  When her New York roommate, Darla, had offered to introduce her to some “friends” so Sandra didn’t spend yet another weekend at home alone, Sandra had reluctantly agreed. One night of getting to know a cross section of Doms, subs, switches, and others in the lifestyl
e had been enough to keep her coming back for the friendships and the feeling of belonging. But it had taken much longer for her to come out of her shell enough to start to see what she might actually enjoy participating in.

  After fleeing New York and her abusive Dom, Diego, she’d sworn off the D/s relationship thinking it was not for her, though still enjoyed the kink, but not being controlled. Now she wasn’t so sure if she was truly done with D/s relationships. Maybe she’d been too hasty?

  Her nipples were hard and sensitive to each movement against her thin bra, the sensations shooting hot spurts of fire throughout her body.

  He raised her right hand to his lips and brushed a quick kiss over her fingers—the same fingers that Sandra had just masturbated with…could he tell?

  She watched him carefully for any reaction, but he only smiled down at her, breathing in the scent for a long moment until he slowly lowered her hand, but didn’t relinquish it.

  It took a moment to realize she was just standing in place, absorbing the new round of sensations and her rampaging thoughts…and still hadn’t answered him.

  With effort, she cleared her throat to make sure she could speak, searching her brain for what the man in the waiting room had called him, and finally giving up. “Thank you, Mr….?”

  Amusement sparked in his eyes, his thumb now softly tracing the backs of her fingers—those fingers.

  “Brent. Please call me Master Brent.” A heavy silence fell between them as he watched her as if trying to solve a puzzle. “Now, what can I do for you…Sandra?” He glanced at her as if waiting for her reaction, and she realized she hadn’t corrected him earlier and told him he could call her Sandra rather than Ms. Barry.

  She wanted to smack her palm against her forehead for being an idiot, but instead she made herself smile up at him. “Yes, call me Sandra, please. I was hoping to petition for membership. Did you get the envelope from my old Dungeon Master?”