Page 89 of Deadly Obsession

My cock twitches, eager and ready for punishment.

“Anything else you’d like to say?”

I nod and inhale a deep breath. I’m in a vulnerable state and it’s intense. It’s also slightly cathartic. “The real reason I deleted the app was jealousy. You’re mine, and I’m the only man you should be controlling.”

The crop whips across my chest, and I gasp, not expecting the sting.

But fuck it felt good.

Sage clutches my chin. “Good boy.”

She leans in and presses a soft kiss to my lips.

I finally get a good look at her.

Jesus Christ, she’s wearing nothing but her pumps and a black bustier with a matching G-string and tights.

I’d been too distracted when she turned on the light after I had frantically searched for her because I certainly would have noticed the outfit. She must have been wearing a robe, covering up this delectable body of hers.

The crop strikes my thighs, and she makes sure to avoid hitting my healing bullet wound. Not that it matters. I’ll gladly welcome the pain.

“No touching,” she says, and I realize I had lifted my hands.

I desperately want to touch her.

Sage walks around me, her fingertips skimming across my back and sending a shiver down my spine. My cock aches, pressing against my zipper and begging for release.

When she makes it back around to my front, she viciously takes hold of my hair and jerks my head back to lock eyes with me.

“I want you to stand and finish undressing, then go into the bedroom and wait for me on your knees, palms flat on your thighs. Can you do that, Mister Carter?”

I clench my jaw at the formality. I’m Elias or Boss. Not Mister Carter.

But I say nothing because Sage is the one in control here.

“Yes, Madam Manilow.”

She smirks at me remembering the name she goes by on that stupid Dom app and lets go of my hair.

“You’re doing such a good job, Elias,” she purrs.

I’m not going to lie… the praise and validation chips away at my trauma ever so slightly. It’s as if she’s healing the parts of my past where I was left to fend for myself, physically and mentally. Piece by piece, patching up the holes from losing my mother and my brother when he was sent away.

Maybe one day Sage will make me whole again.

I’ve been waiting in the bedroom for an hour.

I know Sage is still in the penthouse. She’s blasting music in the living room and singing at the top of her lungs.

She’s fucking with me.

God, why does that turn me on even more?

I don’t even care that my entire body aches. My feet have gone numb. My lower back screams with pain. I’m no longer young and limber. This thirty-six-year-old body of mine has been through shit. It’s damaged and used.

But I’ll endure the pain for her, for however long she wants to leave me here—my punishment.

When the music finally shuts off thirty minutes later, and I’m struggling to stay upright, a burst of adrenaline erupts within me. Sage enters the bedroom, and I manage to get a glimpse of her. She’s carrying a can of whipped cream, the riding crop, and something else that I couldn’t make out in time before averting my eyes to the ground.