A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 84 - 18+ - 83

Chapter 84: 18+ Chapter 83

She set the tray on the small table near the window, her movements precise and efficient. "Shall I bring anything else, my lady?"

Anything else.

A blush stained my cheeks as I turned to the maid, her expression carefully neutral as always, though I didn’t miss the flicker of amusement in her eyes when I asked her to bring me another... explicit book.

Her lips twitched for a moment before she schooled her expression, though the faint smirk that stained her face was impossible to miss. "You must have enjoyed the last one, my lady," she said, her tone polite but laced with subtle teasing.

Heat flooded my face as the memory of His Majesty holding that book, flipping through its pages, came rushing back. I had never been so mortified in my life.

"I... That’s none of your business," I stammered, averting my gaze.

The maid’s smirk only deepened as she curtsied slightly. "Of course not, my lady," she said, though her tone betrayed her amusement.

I cleared my throat, determined to maintain some semblance of dignity. "Please make sure to come and take it before night falls," I said quickly, hoping to avoid a repeat of last time.

The maid nodded, her eyes sparkling with barely concealed amusement. "As you wish, my lady."

I nodded curtly, dismissing her with a wave of my hand. Once she left, I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding and slumped back on my bed.

My gaze drifted to the piano across the room, and I froze.

I could still see him there, sitting with perfect posture, his long fingers dancing across the keys with effortless grace. His expression had been so serene, so focused, and yet there had been an undercurrent of something deeper—something that pulled at me in ways I didn’t understand.

I shook my head quickly, trying to dispel the image. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him?

I looked away from the piano but no matter how much I tried to push the thoughts away, they kept creeping back. His voice, his touch, the way he had looked at me with those piercing red eyes, like he could see straight into my soul...

I groaned, pressing my hands to my flushed cheeks. "Get a grip," I muttered to myself.

But even as I tried to scold myself, my gaze kept drifting back to the piano.

The knock at the door startled me, and I jumped slightly, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Come in," I called, my voice higher-pitched than I intended.

The maid entered, holding a book in her hands. She didn’t bother to hide her smirk this time as she crossed the room and handed it to me.

"Here you are, my lady," she said, her tone overly sweet.

I took the book quickly, avoiding her gaze. "Thank you," I muttered.

"Of course, my lady," she said, curtsying before turning to leave. But as she reached the door, she paused and glanced back at me, her smirk widening. "I’ll make sure to collect it before night falls."

I groaned as the door closed behind her, clutching the book to my chest. I didn’t dare open it right away, too embarrassed by the maid’s teasing.

Instead, I placed the book on the nightstand and turned my attention back to the piano.

Closing my eyes, I imagined him sitting there again, his presence commanding yet strangely comforting. The memory of his hands on the keys, the way he had looked at me after finishing the piece, made my heart ache in a way I couldn’t explain.

I glanced at the book on the nightstand, hesitating for a moment before picking it up. The cover was just as suggestive as the last one, and my cheeks flushed as I flipped through the pages.

It felt heavier in my hands than it should have, its spine pressing into my palm as I leaned back against the headboard. I told myself it was just curiosity. Nothing more. But as I read deeper into the story, that excuse began to crumble.

Every word, every description—it was as if the author had reached into the deepest, most hidden parts of me and poured them onto the page. I shifted on the bed, trying to ignore the warmth that pooled in my stomach and the way my breath quickened with each line.

The scene was... intense. The male character had the female lead pinned against a wall, his mouth tracing the curve of her neck as his fingers teased her skin. He whispered things to her, things I never imagined could be written in a book so boldly. Things that made my chest tighten and my pussy throb involuntarily between my legs.

I tried to focus on the story, but my mind was no longer just reading—it was feeling. I could imagine his voice, low and gravelly, murmuring against her ear. I could picture the way his lips curved into a dangerous smile before he kissed her deeply, claiming her like she was the only thing in his world that mattered.

My fingers tightened around the book. My breathing was uneven now, and I hated how aware I was of every inch of my body. It felt wrong... but not enough to stop.

The descriptions grew more intense, his hands wandering, her body arching toward him as though she couldn’t help herself. I swallowed hard, the words blurring on the page as my own thoughts took over. I imagined what it would feel like—being touched like that, kissed like that, whispered to like I was someone’s entire world.

A shiver ran down my spine. My free hand brushing gentle over my engorged clit, toying with it absentmindedly, and I bit my lip as the next scene unfolded on the page. His lips trailed lower, his hands holding her firmly in place, and I could almost feel it—his touch, the heat of his breath.

But now it was no longer the male character that I see. It was His Majesty.

My skin felt flushed, my fingers trembling slightly as I dipped them deeper into my moist pussy and I let out a soft moan.

I closed my eyes, letting the book rest on my lap as I leaned back against the pillows. His voice, teasing and low. His hands, firm and commanding. His gaze, piercing through me like he could see every hidden thought.

My fingers drifted deeper, and I gasped, my head falling back.

The idea of him touching me, kissing me, murmuring things that would leave me breathless—was overpowering.

My lips parted as I let out a soft moan, my body arching slightly against the mattress. I hated how much I wanted it. How much I wanted him.

The book lay forgotten beside me now, as I imagined him, his strong hands pinning me down, his lips brushing against my ear as he murmured in that low, teasing tone. "Darling," he would say, his breath warm and tantalizing, "is this what you wanted?"

The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and I bit my lip to stifle a whimper. My hand moved instinctively, seeking more, craving something I couldn’t define but desperately needed.

And then the door creaked open.

My heart stopped.

I froze, my hand stilling as a wave of mortification crashed over me. Slowly, hesitantly, I turned my head toward the sound—and there he was.

His Majesty stood in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, his crimson eyes locked onto mine. His gaze flicked down to where my hand still rested inside me, and for a moment, he said nothing.

I expected irritation. Disgust. But what I saw in his eyes was something entirely different—something darker, more dangerous, that sent another shiver racing through me.

"Don’t stop on my account," he said, his voice low and laced with amusement.

My face burned hotter than ever, and I quickly pulled my hand away, sitting up and pulling the sheets over me. "I-I wasn’t—"

"Lying doesn’t suit you, darling." He took a step into the room, closing the door behind him with a deliberate click.

I couldn’t breathe. The air between us felt heavy, charged with an intensity I didn’t know how to handle. He moved closer, his movements slow and predatory, like a wolf stalking its prey.

I wanted to sink into the floor. "It’s... not what it looks like."

He raised an eyebrow, his expression daring me to continue. "Oh? Then enlighten me. What is it, exactly?"

I had no answer. My tongue felt tied, my mind blank as he came to a stop at the edge of the bed. He reached down, picking up the book with an almost casual ease, and flipped through the pages.

"You know," he murmured, his tone thoughtful, "if you wanted this, you only had to ask."

My breath hitched, and I looked up at him, my cheeks burning.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, and my stomach twisted at the way it made me feel. He leaned down, his face suddenly far too close to mine, and I caught a whiff of his scent—dark and intoxicating, like the forest after a storm.

"Don’t worry darling," he said, climbing on top of the bed, towering over me until his face was inches away from mine. "My mouth is way better than your hand."