Captive Bride: A Dark Obsession Romance

by Dark Angel

  He’s looking at me intently, like he’s also ripping off the layers of my soul that are hidden to him.

  He likes to have me vulnerable, exposed only him in every way. Mind, body, and soul, I am his.

  My hands are restrained, the cuffs digging into my skin as I try to move. He’s got me pinned down hard against the bed with his legs.

  I look down at his giant shaft sliding along the space between my tits, and it’s so fucking hot, and I just want to taste it, to taste him.

  Dear God, please give me that cock in my mouth. Let me suck it. Let me taste it.

  I’m praying and yearning for more.

  I need more to survive.

  It’s a deep need that only Tristan can fill.

  “Tristan, I want to taste your big cock so bad,” I whimper.

  “You want that cock, my slutty little princess? Beg,” he growls the words, and I get more heated by the tone of his voice.

  “Yes, Sir. Fuck, please, yes.”

  At my admission and before I really even know what’s happening, he’s shoving his cock down my throat.

  Fuck yes. Finally.

  His cock fills me up and makes my need for him abide. All I need is him, this.

  I try to take down his massive length. It hits the back of my throat, but I don’t gag, so fierce is my desire.

  I just want to taste him, all of him.

  I want him to consume me, all of me.

  He presses his cock hard down my throat. I take it in like a champion. Tristan gasps and clenches his teeth like he’s gonna come—but he doesn’t.

  Spirals and waves of pleasure threaten me once again. The idea of taking Tristan’s cock so far down my throat is enough to put me over the edge.

  His intensity and his dominance turn me on.

  And just as the waves are about to crash, he pulls out, spreads my legs wide, and puts them up on his shoulders.

  He slides the tip of his cock along the outside of my pussy. It torments me.

  More. I need more.

  “Is this what you want, baby? Is this what you’ve been dreaming about?”

  I nod vigorously, hands still tied.

  And then to my total maximum pleasure, he sinks his wide cock deep inside of me.

  Stretching out, he’s taking me deeper than ever before, hitting against the back of my cervix. And every time he pulls out, his cock drags along my G-spot, and I’m nearly enveloped by the pain and the pleasure of it all.

  He looks at me, smiling, like he knows exactly what he’s doing, like he knows exactly how much she’s torturing me with his body.

  “You’re gonna come deeply for me, Isobel. I demand it.”

  I know he means what he says. My orgasm is not under my control. Everything is in his hands. He determines when and where and how hard.

  I just stare at him, not being able to take my eyes away from his infectious gaze.

  He’s hot. He’s dominant. He’s everything I could’ve ever wanted in a man.

  I lie back, my wrists hurting uncomfortably against the handcuffs, and I try to just breathe my way through what he’s doing.

  He pumps in and out of me slowly, so slowly, in fact, that it’s pure torture.

  Every time he hits my G-spot, I feel the desire burning in me deeply, threatening to explode like the hottest volcano.

  At this angle, with my legs spread so wide and my ankles up on his shoulders, he has perfect access to me. I’m forced to take in every inch of him, which is no easy feat.

  He thrusts into me slowly, over and over again. He rubs my clit with his thumb—and then I feel it happening.

  There’s no going back. Even if he demanded I stop right now, there’s no going back.

  My body races towards the edge, and I hurl myself over with reckless abandon.

  The world ceases to exist. All I can see and feel is him. And all I know is that I’m his, forever bound by some inexplicable connection.

  There’s no way to ride this course of waves.

  Crashing. I’m crashing hard.

  I scream out his name, I think, but I can’t even tell because my head is in another dimension.

  He knows what’s happening, that the orgasm is racking through my body.

  And then he starts to fuck me really hard.

  I’m coming all around his cock, the world spinning and twirling in a million different directions.

  And he pumps into me with such rigor, and all I can feel is his giant cock filling me up and taking me over. I come so hard, over and over again, and then I feel him erupt into me.

  His hot cum mingles with my own and drips out of my now sopping wet pussy.

  He’s gasping hard, pumping into me, blowing his load and his essence all over me, inside of me, everywhere.

  I close my eyes and just try to take it.

  It’s the most intense amount of pleasure I’ve ever felt in my life. It’s also painful in that delightful kind of way.

  Most of all, I’m enraptured by this man. He’s got me entranced, and it feels like fucking magic.

  I’m breathing hard and calling his name, my pussy contracting in rapid pulses. Soon, he falls forward onto my chest, enveloping me with his burdensome body. All his weight is pressing down on me, and he breathes harshly in my ear.

  “That was fucking fantastic, Isobel.”

  A smile curls on my lips as I know I’ve satisfied my man. I’ve done everything for him that I possibly could. And he’s demanded everything of me that he possibly could.

  This is a love like no other.

  This is rapture.

  This is bliss.

  28

  Tristan

  The sky is a cloudless blue.

  A faint breeze stirs the grass outside.

  It’s the kind of day meant for picnics. The kind meant for laughter and happiness.

  Our limousine cuts through the country road, a dark beacon that contrasts harshly with the world outside.

  There isn’t any laughter in this car. No happiness, either.

  The air in the back on the limo is heavy with the severity of our situation, weighed down by the task that’s been handed to me.

  The day of the duel. Kill or die.

  More of the same.

  Merc and Benny sit ahead, speaking in hushed tones.

  Isobel sits beside me, her hand squeezing mine to the point of pain. There’s a tremble in her touch that breaks my heart. Her fear radiates through me.

  “You don’t have to do this,” she says now, turning to me.

  Her eyes implore me to change my mind. I meet them steadily, my own eyes betraying nothing of the conflict I feel.

  “Yes, I do.”

  She groans. “No, Tristan. Let’s just leave. We can go anywhere. Just please don’t go through with this.”

  I feel a headache forming behind my eyes. My hand reaches up, rubbing my forehead to keep it at bay.

  “We can’t run. There’s nowhere they wouldn’t find us, Isobel. Theo will tear this world apart if that’s what it takes to get you back. You know this.”

  Tears spring to her eyes, and I do my best to harden my heart against them.

  Her pain is real, but so are my words.

  There’s no other way. If there were, I would have thought of it by now.

  “I love you,” I say. “If I could avoid this, I would, but it’s just not possible. You have to make a choice. I’m sorry.”

  Her hand tightens even harder around mine, and I hear her breathing quicken.

  Her tears spill freely from her eyes.

  “I—I can’t,” she says.

  I try to maintain our space, wanting to give her room to decide as she will. At the first sight of her tears, however, my resolve begins to crack.

  I move closer to her on the seat, my arm draping across her shoulders to pull her against me.

  She doesn’t resist, instead lowering her head to my chest, her tears wetting my shirt where they fall.

  “I’m sorry,” I say again, me
aning it.

  “I love you both,” she sobs. “I can’t stand this!”

  My heart aches to see her pain. I kiss her head, breathing her in as I do.

  “I know, Isobel, I know.”

  I trail off, silence descending upon us, broken only by her intermittent sobs.

  Benny shoots me a look of pure sympathy.

  This is an impossible situation. No matter what happens, Isobel gets hurt.

  We ride in silence for several minutes, none of us having the energy to re-address the mess we’ve found ourselves in.

  As we approach our destination, I lean closer to Isobel.

  “We’re almost there,” I say in warning.

  She sits up quickly, red eyes scanning our surroundings.

  She opens her mouth to speak, closing it again a moment later.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Okay,” she answers simply.

  “Okay?”

  “Okay. I choose you.” she chokes out. “I love Theo. He’s like a brother to me…” Her breath catches in her throat, and it’s obviously with great pain that she continues. “But I love you more.”

  Her words bring hope to life again in me.

  I pull her close, kissing her fiercely.

  “I love you, too,” I say, my hands threading through her hair. “I love you so much, Isobel.”

  I kiss her repeatedly—her mouth, her forehead, her cheeks still wet with tears.

  “Everything’s going to be okay,” I tell her, not sure if I believe my own words.

  She doesn’t respond, simply nestling back into my chest as if she’ll be safe there.

  Even with all my uncertainty, I know that this, at least, is true.

  I will keep her safe.

  As long as there’s breath in my body, no one is going to hurt her.

  The car begins to slow, and all too soon, we’re pulling up to our destination.

  We’re in the middle of nowhere—the perfect place for a duel.

  Before the tires have fully stopped, Isobel sits up, pulling quickly away from me. I can’t so much as ask what she’s doing before her hand finds the door handle and she’s jumping from the car.

  “Isobel!” I yell, darting through the open door behind her.

  I stop in my tracks when I see where she’s headed.

  Theo stands not too far away, his back leaning against the trunk of a tree, cigarette hanging from his smiling lips.

  He stands fully when he sees Isobel coming his way.

  “Theo!” she yells.

  “Isobel!” he exclaims.

  “Theo, please,” she says, coming to a stop before him. “Please call this off. It doesn’t have to be this way!”

  “It didn’t have to,” he says. “Why did you do it, Isobel? What the fuck were you thinking?”

  “Please,” she begs. “I love him, Theo! Please just go, we can forget all of this.”

  He sneers, throwing his cigarette to the ground before stomping it out with one well-polished boot.

  “You love him? Jesus Christ, Isobel! You think I’m going to leave here, that I’m going to dishonor myself and our family, all because you’ve got a crush?”

  “Please!” she yells again, reaching for his hand.

  He shoves her arms away, denying her even that.

  “No,” he spits out, teeth gritted in anger. “This is happening. This has been a long time coming. I’m going to kill him, your precious Tristan.”

  “Theo—”

  “I want you to know something, though. That even if I fail, even if I die right here, you will never be with him. Our family will never let you. We’ll get you back,” he spits. “One way or another, and you will marry the Governor as planned. It’s your father’s will, and there’s no escaping that.”

  Her head hangs down in defeat, sobs visibly racking her body.

  My heart aches fiercely at the sight.

  Theo ignores her entirely, instead turning to face me. His lips pull back into a smile that screams of bloodshed.

  “Ready, Montague?” he asks, turning from his cousin, walking deeper into the field.

  I nod once to Benny and Merc, signaling that I am.

  Isobel lifts her head to look at me, defeat blazing through her eyes.

  All of her hope seems to leave her body in that instant, and I know she finally understands. There was never stopping this. This was preordained.

  Our families would have brought us to this point sooner or later, Theo and I. There’s nothing for it.

  One of us is going to die.

  I offer her a thin smile as I head after her cousin.

  The gathered Capulets and Montagues follow behind, positioning themselves around the field when they arrive.

  This moment is unspeakably important to both families, the results of it carrying real weight.

  Theo and I meet in the center of the field, each staring murder at the other.

  “I’ll kill you for what you’ve done to her,” he spits at me.

  I say nothing in return. What is there to say?

  We turn in unison, a designated counter announcing our steps.

  Twenty steps, that’s all that stands between one of us and death.

  “EIGHTEEN!”

  I redouble my grip on my gun.

  “NINETEEN!” the voice rings out.

  I take a breath.

  “TWENTY!”

  I spin, eyes tracking Theo, finger already pulling at the trigger.

  Two gunshots ring out in the early morning silence.

  It’s not until I see the blood rushing down his face that I’m even sure I’m still alive.

  “THEO!” Isobel screams from behind me, her voice cracking in pure agony.

  I don’t even feel relief.

  This has accomplished nothing.

  My eyes scan slowly across the gathered spectators.

  Anger flashes at me from each set of Capulet eyes, already promising revenge.

  All I’ve managed to do here is bring even more heat down on me.

  And break Isobel’s heart.

  I see her from the corner of my eye, her legs pumping frantically, propelling her to the now still body of her cousin.

  “Theo!” she screams again when she reaches him, falling to her knees.

  Her hands run futilely across his chest, gripping his shoulders, shaking him violently.

  “Please, no!” she cries.

  Blood pools beneath him, running out in scarlet waves. It trails along the ground, meeting with her legs, painting them in death.

  She doesn’t even notice, just puts her head to his chest, tears flowing from her eyes and wails falling from her lips.

  My heart shatters at the sight.

  I did this.

  The remaining Capulets turn to leave, each taking the time to shoot me a look of pure malice as they go.

  I ignore them, eyes still locked on my love.

  I’ve broken her heart. I’ve hurt her worse than anyone ever has, and I don’t know how she’ll ever be able to forgive me.

  The woman I love, the one who smiles freely and glows with innocent radiance, disappears in this moment, another person entirely taking her place.

  I wonder feebly if she’ll ever be the same again.

  Minutes pass, and Isobel doesn’t move. Her tears never cease, her hands still gripping Theo pleadingly.

  Finally, I walk across to her.

  There’s nothing she can do to help him, and it’s dangerous to stay here.

  I don’t say a word, instead reaching down to lift her gently from her cousin’s lifeless form.

  Truly, I’m surprised when she doesn’t resist.

  Her arms wrap around my neck, her head lying gently against my chest.

  While I can still feel the tears that run from her eyes, her screams have stopped. She’s quiet in my embrace.

  Silent as the grave.

  I carry her to the limo, Merc and Benny trailing close behind.

  She lies lifelessly on
the seat where I set her, not bothering to sit up, maybe unable to. Her eyes stare unblinkingly ahead.

  “Where to?” Benny asks, voice soft and concerned.

  “The city,” I say, climbing in beside Isobel. “Let’s go to the fortress.”

  29

  Isobel

  I’m worked into a cocoon of my own making.

  I can’t even imagine facing the light of day ever again.

  I feel like a damn vampire. If the sun were to hit my skin, I might just melt.

  All I want is darkness and shadows to envelop me, and I wish not to wake up from the blackness.

  With the death of Theo, my world came crashing down.

  He was like a brother to me. He always protected me no matter what. He was my only source of light and life for so long.

  And now he’s gone.

  Realizing that hard truth has been like a punch in the stomach from which I’ll never get over.

  I’ve lost a lot of people in my life—bodyguards, relatives, but no one like Theo. I’m never lost someone I cared about so deeply.

  And at this point, I blame Tristan. How could he have done it?

  I know I’ve been for in bed for days. I’m not sure exactly how long.

  I can’t tell whether the sun has come or gone. The curtains are drawn tight, and it’s just gloom in here, like the state of my mind and my soul.

  Benny keeps coming in to check with me. He really has become a friend.

  Right now is no different.

  He’s always bringing me food or whatever else he thinks I might want. But I haven’t had anything for the past couple days except for a little bit of water.

  Feels like my body is wasting away. Just like my insides.

  I’m just not strong enough to survive this feud any longer. I need a reprieve.

  Benny knocks quietly on the door and comes in, carrying a tray of stuff like usual.

  There’s a rose on it in a little vase, and Benny says, “That’s from Tristan. He’s really torn up, Isobel. He can’t see you like this. He’s going fucking crazy worrying about you.”

  I turn over in my bed and say, “Let them worry. I’m not okay, Benny.”

  And with those words, a fresh flood of tears comes to the surface, and I cry into my pillow.

  Benny sits down next to me and strokes my hair.