Black Obsidian (Obsidian 1)

“I don’t want to do something I’ll regret.” Her voice lowered further, more of her vulnerability coming to the surface. “I’ve made some bad choices in my life. I’m trying not to repeat them.”

She was hinting at her ex, some asshole who did something unforgivable to her. I wanted to pry, but I knew it wasn’t my place. If she wanted me to know, she would have told me. “You won’t regret me, Rome.” When we were rolling around on my sheets, and she was coming all through the night, she would hate herself for waiting so long. She was the ideal woman, and I was the only guy who was man enough to handle her. I was the only man who deserved her. But I couldn’t make her see that. She would have to figure that out on her own. “Let me take you home. I’ll walk you to your door, kiss you goodnight, and then walk away like a gentleman.” Even though I was nothing of the sort.

Her eyes searched mine for assurance. She obviously didn’t find it because she said, “Can you promise me something?”

I had no idea what she would ask, but looking into her forest green eyes made me not care about whatever words came out of her mouth. I was hypnotized, as I’d been a thousand times before. This woman brought me to my knees with just an expression—and she did it so many times. “Anything.”

“Can we wait a while? Even if I ask, promise we won’t sleep together.”

Where was the fun in that? How was I supposed to chain her to my headboard when she wouldn’t even get on her back? This woman was strong and centered, so why did she need me to make a promise like that? If she were anyone else, I would abandon this hopeless feat and find someone else. “How long?”

She cleared her throat before she answered. “Four weeks.”

What. The. Fuck.

Four goddamn weeks?

Is she insane?

A whole month?

Hell no.

Forget that.

No one was worth four weeks. I’d find someone else.

I’d die if I waited that long.

Absolutely not.

Her eyes glanced back and forth between mine, shaking because they moved so quickly. She tried to read my thoughts, but they were tucked away deep inside my chest. She must have expected my refusal because she was looking for it.

Soon, she would find it.

Four weeks was unacceptable. It’d already been two weeks since I last got laid, and I hadn’t beaten off so much in my life. Another four on top of that would kill me. My cock would never forgive me, and that resentment would only grow as time passed.

But I couldn’t walk away from her. I would regret that even more.

I wanted her to trust me enough to allow me to do some twisted and dark things. I wanted her to trust me to gag her, bind her, and bring her to the highest levels of pleasure. I wanted her to trust me to hurt her, to bend her until she nearly snapped in two. How would I earn that unconditional trust unless I gave her a reason to trust me? This woman wasn’t like the others, and I’d accepted that from the beginning. If I really wanted her, I’d have to work for it. And I was always up for a challenge. “Okay.”

The strain in her eyes finally dwindled. She obviously expected me to disagree with her request, which any normal man would, and I surprised her when I didn’t. But my eyes were on the prize—the best submissive I could ever ask for. “Thank you.”

“But what constitutes as sex?” I had a lot of different definitions of the act.

“What do you mean?”

“I won’t sleep with you for four weeks—even if you ask me to. But you need to define it better. Can I kiss you? Can I touch you? Can I finger you?”

She didn’t hide her surprise at my vulgar questions. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Well, do so now.”

“Anything but intercourse.”

Thank god. I could work around that. “Alright. I won’t sleep with you for four weeks starting today.”

“Even if I change my mind in a few weeks.” She was obsessed with keeping my cock out of her pussy, but why was it so important to her? Refraining from sex just for the sake of it was stupid as fuck. There shouldn’t be a timing threshold for a good lay. When I first met her, I thought she was different than the others. I assumed she thought for herself and lived by her own rules. She lived in the moment and didn’t care what anyone thought of her. Maybe I was wrong about all of that. Or maybe I was missing a key factor in the situation.

“Even if you change your mind.” If I didn’t have my own agenda, I would just break my promise the second she asked me to fuck her. But if I could show that kind of restraint when a naked woman was underneath me, then she could agree to being suspended above the floor while I wrapped her legs around my waist and fucked her.