Obscene desire a billion.., p.1
Obscene Desire: A Billionaire Age Gap Romance, page 1
OBSCENE DESIRE
UNHINGED ADMIRERS
HARLEY TEAL
Copyright © August 2024 by Harley Teal for Amber Ink Ltd.
Cover Design: Open World Covers
WARNING: Contains dark themes and elements which may be triggering for some people. Proceed with caution! Click HERE for a full list of content warnings.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writers’ imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction of this work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.
All characters are over 18. While this book contains descriptions of dark/risky sexual practices and toxic relationship behavior, please remember it is a work of escapist fantasy fiction and, as such, should not be used in any way as a guide. The author and publisher will not be responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from use/interpretation of the information contained within.
In other words, don’t try this at home, folks!
CONTENTS
Content Warnings
This is for you…
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
Epilogue
Free book from Harley
CONTENT WARNINGS
Potential triggers: Mentions of past/childhood trauma (including loss of parents), stalking, debt, illness (of secondary character), sex work (virtual and stripping), threats of physical harm to secondary characters, obsession/limerence.
This book also contains explicit descriptions of BDSM / Daddy kink: pain as pleasure, edging/orgasm control/denial, and maledom dirty talk (teasing humiliation and praise). Morally grey MMC / virgin FMC.
All characters are over eighteen.
This is a story for adults who can differentiate between fantasy and reality, and who enjoy book boyfriends whose toxic behavior they’d never tolerate in real life. In other words, this work is for pleasure/entertainment, not a relationship guide or dating advice!
Read at your own risk!
THIS IS FOR YOU…
I would like to dedicate this book to everyone who loves being called ‘good girl’… I wrote this for you! If you enjoy this story, and want more, please sign up for my newsletter HERE – and get a free dirty little novella as a bonus!
1
MASON
It’s about fucking time.
Months of planning, waiting… watching… are about to pay off. Good thing the chairs in this joint are top-quality, else my fingertips would dent the armrests.
I drag my attention away from the heavy curtain for a quick glance around. The lounge is filled with a couple dozen guys in tailored suits, flaunting ostentatious watches and egos to match. Wealthy to the point of obscenity, they come here every few months to be entertained, in hopes of finding something filthy, unusual, or unexpected enough to give their jaded souls a thrill… or even a slight flutter.
Since they can buy anything their depraved hearts desire, their tastes have grown increasingly extreme over time, their appetites for the dark and forbidden ever more ravenous.
I should know. I’m one of them.
It’s crazy how fast you can build up a tolerance for shit. Especially vices. Drugs, violence, even sex… these days, things that would horrify most decent folk barely give me a tingle.
A decade or two of having anything you want will inevitably ruin your ability to get excited easily—a problem I share with the other unashamed hedonists in this lounge.
When you’ve seen and done just about everything your sick mind can conceive of, it’s fucking hard to get fucking hard.
And yet right now, as I pretend-lounge in the sumptuous seat I reserved in the front row, my aching cock is straining toward my belly. I haven’t had a hard-on like this since my youth—at least, not until recently.
Until she came along and changed everything.
Now, over the last couple months, I’ve been like a wolf in heat—my energy, my focus, my rabid lust all targeted at one thing. One obsession. One girl… with deep red hair, a seductive smile, and curves that make your mouth go dry.
The first time I saw her picture, it literally stopped me in my tracks. There was something about the tilt of her head and the mischievous glint in her dark blue eyes that called to me on a primal level. Heart thumping, balls tight, and dick throbbing, I went from casually scrolling to obsessed in about three seconds.
Fuck knows why she had that effect on me—out of all the girls on the internet—but frankly, I don’t care. I saw her… I wanted her.
And I always get what I want.
The lights flicker and shift to bathe the dais in a warm red glow. The godawful ambient jazz music flips to a deep, throbbing bass track with a sensual melody. I force my jaw to unclench. The Balvenie on the table beside me begs to be sipped but in my current state, my grip would shatter the glass. I’m already about to splinter the armrests of my chair, and I want to hide my agitation. My tension. My unbearable lust. So I’m careful to project the same chill, casually curious air as those around me.
Besides, I don’t want them to get the wrong impression. Since it was my turn to source tonight’s entertainment, they might attribute my nerves to some bullshit worry they won’t enjoy it.
In fact, I’m ninety-nine percent sure they won’t. But I don’t give a fuck. Most of the magnates, mobsters, and moguls who join Nonsuch seem to prefer their girls timid and terrified, cowering in the corner, forced to surrender their precious virginity instead of giving it gladly. Why do those guys always go after virgins? I don’t get the appeal. My own experience in that area has been less than great. And yet the annual cherry auctions are apparently the most popular nights on the club calendar. It’s like these assholes are afraid of comparison. Surely it’s a bigger compliment if a chick’s had more than her fair share of dick and still declares yours the best?
Maybe that’s one reason why I was immediately drawn to the girl I picked to dance for us this evening: her sensuality is effortless. From the way she touches herself, to the husky lilt in her voice, to the things she says… she gets me so hot, I can barely stand it.
I’m so far gone, her name alone is enough to get me hard. It’s not her real one. But she picked it, and it suits her.
Harmony.
And I’m done waiting for her. If she doesn’t get her incredible ass out here in the next three seconds, I’m tearing through that fucking curtain, hunting her down, and—
Fuck. Me.
I blink, willing my heartbeat to slow before I keel over. I don’t want to miss a second of this real-life fantasy.
Her glossy hair tumbles in loose curls down her back. Her lips are painted a vivid scarlet to match. The dress—a gift from me for this occasion—clings to her delicious body like a second skin, shimmering as she undulates her hips and sways across the stage.
Come to Daddy, you little beauty.
As if she heard, she glances up, and our eyes lock. Godfuckingdamn, that expression on her face is everything. I can’t look away. As tempting as her dance is, as desperate as I am to watch her tits jiggle as she moves, I’m lost in that sultry blue gaze.
Anyway, there’ll be plenty of time to check out her body later. The minute she’s done dancing, I’ll take her to a back room where we can be alone. Where I can seduce her properly. The way a girl like her deserves to be seduced. The way many women would love to be—but most guys couldn’t pull off. Or they wouldn’t dare.
I’ll wine and dine her, make her comfortable… and then I’ll get her all riled up, so needy and desperate that she’s begging for my cock. For me. There’s nothing I like better than getting under a lady’s skin and inside her mind until she’s so drunk with lust, every other thought literally vanishes from her head. Until nothing matters but being a good girl for Daddy…
Or a bad one, depending on my mood.
Will Harmony be a good girl for me? If she is, I’ll reward her with more orgasms than she thought she was capable of. I’ll make her come until the mess is dripping down her thighs and she’s begging me to stop…
Or will she be bad? Will I have to put her over my knee and spank her curvy ass until she’s learned her lesson? So many potential punishments and rewards…
I want to do it all to her.
As the song reaches its climax, Harmony glides into a twirl, releasing me from her hypnotic gaze. Am I disappointed or relieved? I could drown in her eyes forever—but at least I can breathe again.
The fuck is wrong with me? I’m Mason Palmer: CEO, perpetual bachelor, and renowned asshole. Since when do I drown in someone’s eyes? Making a chick hold hers open so I can flood them with my cum is way more my style.
Harmony’s slender fin
When I first hired her for this event, she did ask whether it was really necessary to strip naked—but I figured she was just clarifying my expectations. After all, she has no qualms about flaunting her delectable body online…
A little shimmy, and the fabric slithers down her back, catching on her hips. Is she wearing the thong I sent with the dress? She’d fucking better be.
The searing cramp in my fist makes me unclench it.
C’mon, baby, show Daddy that plump, pretty ass…
Harmony obeys, giving the silk a quick tug so it drops to expose the creamy round cheeks I can’t wait to touch… slap… bite…
Now, turn around…
Again, it’s like she can hear me. Her hips rock… left… right… left… before she turns, her arms crossed coyly over her perfect tits. Her eyes dart back up to lock with mine, and I can’t suppress a grin.
Every time this perfect girl faces the audience, she looks for me. Which shouldn’t be surprising, since I’m the one who paid her a small fortune to perform for us tonight. I sent her the dress she just shucked off and the scarlet triangle of lace—her last shred of modesty—clinging between her thighs.
Thing is, I did all that anonymously.
So while we’ve had countless conversations, shared jokes, and role-played kinky fantasies online, while I know more about Harmony than I’ve ever cared to know about a woman before, she has no idea what I look like. No clue that the man she’s eye-fucking so shamelessly right now is the same one who brought her here. Which can only mean one thing: she’s attracted to me even though I’m a complete stranger to her.
Fucking perfect.
If I was the romantic type, I’d say it was meant to be.
2
HARMONY/KELLY
The trouble with being naked is there’s nowhere to keep your Mace.
I knew I was getting into a precarious situation when I agreed to do this, but only now, as I face a room full of gawking rich assholes with my dress puddled around my ankles, does the threat really sink in.
Better not think about that now. I’m here to do a job and while I got half the payment upfront, I doubt macellan_daddy will send me the rest if I cut my performance short and give in to the temptation to scurry offstage and run home.
And I really need the rest of that money.
So instead, I let my hands drop to reveal my chest, shimmying like the other exotic dancers I studied so carefully, praying no one can tell how self-conscious I am.
After all, Mac didn’t hire me. He hired Harmony: a pouting sex kitten who knows just what to say and how to move to get a guy off… to make him open his wallet and beg for more of her attention. And when I reminded him that I’ve never done an in-person event before, that I only work online, he assured me that there was barely any difference. That whatever I did onstage would be perfect. That I’d be perfect.
Then he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse: enough to cover a chunk of Nan’s medical bills. Since I doubt I’ll earn that much in a decade, let alone in fifteen minutes, how could I say no? Nan’s the only family I have left…
This is the climax of the song, Kelly. Focus!
To distract myself from the nerve-wracking reality of my situation, I’ve been concentrating on the mysterious guy in the front row who keeps catching my eye. Pretending he’s the only one in the room and I’m dancing just for him. With the way he looks at me, it’s been easy. Surprisingly easy, in fact.
His eyes are intense. Piercing. It’s like he can see right through me but while it’s a tad unsettling, it’s also kinda hot. Biting my lip seductively, I hook my finger into the string of my thong, drawing it away from my hip and letting it snap back into place. The corner of his mouth lifts, and there’s a flutter in my belly. When I first came out on stage, he was lounging back in his chair but now he’s leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his sleeves rolled up to expose thick, tanned forearms. A signet ring gleams on his pinky. He looks dark and dangerous… precisely the kind of guy people warn you to stay away from.
Precisely the kind of guy you wind up being attracted to despite those warnings.
Or maybe because of them.
The weird thing is, he’s not my usual type at all. He’s too old. Too self-assured. Too freaking rich. Even if I was looking for a boyfriend, I’d never go for someone like him. A handsome playboy? Hell, no.
So why does his expression make my skin tingle?
I turn around and give the audience my back, grateful for the chance to catch my breath away from his intense stare. Bending at the waist, I draw the thong down and back up over my butt a couple times.
Pretend you’re on cam, I tell myself over and over. You’ve done this a thousand times before… it’s no different.
It is, though. Everything about this is different. And while I can’t see him, I can still feel the gorgeous guy’s eyes on me. Hungry. Admiring. Hot.
Taking a deep breath, I drop the thong, squeezing my eyes shut—like that’ll stop every man in this room from staring at the fingers I’ve cupped between my legs to hide what they’re all desperate to see.
Seduction is all about the tease, and I’ve mastered the art of that. If I told anyone who watches me dance how inexperienced I really am, they’d never believe it.
Just as I’m about to slide my hand away for the big reveal, a sharp slap on my ass jerks me upright. Then everything happens faster than I can process it. Before I can turn around to confront whoever slapped me, someone grabs my wrist and yanks me around, shoving me protectively behind his bulk. This must be Mac. He said he’d be here to look out for me, but while I figured he’d come find me before the performance started, he never did.
Wow, he’s tall.
“Get the fuck out of here before I rip your fucking hands off!” he’s bellowing at the jerk squaring up to him as I cringe behind his back. “You know the rules, asshole! No uninvited touching!”
“Like anyone ever follows the rules!” Asshole spits back. “You’re overreacting here, Palmer! What’s the big deal? It’s a cute ass, and I couldn’t resist a little spank! Oh… or is that the problem? Did I not do it hard enough for your liking? We all know you prefer—”
My rescuer chokes off the rest of Asshole’s sentence by lunging at him and grabbing his tie. He’s murmuring something into the jerk’s ear in a menacing tone—but I’m distracted because now I see his face, I recognize him as the mystery guy I’ve been locking eyes with. Mr. Handsome Playboy himself came to my rescue.
He’s even sexier up close… and that aftershave is delicious.
But where the fuck is Mac? Why is he letting a stranger come to my rescue?
Unless…
“Come with me, babygirl,” he murmurs, wrapping his suit jacket around my shoulders and sliding an arm around me to hustle me away.
Now that’s the voice I recognize. “Mac? Er, macellan_daddy?”
“You looked fucking gorgeous in that dress,” he says. “I knew you would.”
My mind spinning, I let him shepherd me through a side door, down a corridor, and into some kind of private lounge. “My stuff,” I bleat, feeling naked not just because I’m wearing nothing but a suit jacket, but because my phone and purse are still in the dressing room backstage. I said I’d text Lilly as soon as the dance was over.
“I’ve asked to have it all brought here,” he says, guiding me to a plush bucket chair. “Should only take a minute.”
“Thanks.” Right before I collapse into the chair, a thought hits me. I pause, hovering, the edge of the seat brushing the backs of my knees.
“Sit.”
“I’m… I’m not wearing any panties.”
“I know.” His grin lights up his face. “Fuck it. If anyone complains, I’ll just buy a new chair.”
Emboldened by his carefree manner, I give in to my watery knees and sink down. The fabric—velvet?—feels weird against my bare sex.
