本棚
検索
ホーム / Romance / HIS DARK OBSESSION: The Architect / ###010: THE PHOTO

共有

###010: THE PHOTO

作者: T.C. Wolfé
last update 公開日: 2026-03-01 00:00:38

//AZRAEL//

Ah, she tasted so sweet, and I couldn’t get enough of her.

The way she whimpered and tremble when I pulled back. The memory of it made my cock throb against my zipper as I settled into the driver’s seat, the leather cold against my back. The engine purred to life, but I didn’t move.

I was hard, painfully hard that made my entire body ache with need.

I reached for the glove compartment and pulled out a photo of her at th

この本を無料で読み続ける
コードをスキャンしてアプリをダウンロード
前のチャプター 次のチャプター
ロックされたチャプター

最新チャプター

  • HIS DARK OBSESSION: The Architect   ###046: THE KNIFE

    //AZRAEL//Vesper’s breathing still came hard and ragged, her body trembling against the leather seat. Her lips parted, her skin flushed with the heat I had already pulled from her. She was trying to steady herself. She was trying to pretend she had not just come apart on my fingers with her mother sleeping three feet away.I lifted my fingers to my mouth, tasting her slowly, letting the salt and sweetness coat my tongue. I sucked them clean, one by one, and let her watch. Her eyes tracked the movement. Her throat worked. She was still hungry. She was always hungry. The rain hammered the windshield in sheets, reducing the world beyond to gray static. Visibility had dropped to nothing.I pulled onto the shoulder. Gravel crunched beneath the tires. The car rocked with the wind once, twice, then settled. The road was desolate here, buried beneath arching trees that blocked what little moonlight might have penetrated the storm. No other vehicles. No witnesses.Vesper went rigid. I felt h

  • HIS DARK OBSESSION: The Architect   ###045: THE COLLECTION

    //VESPER//I came down the stairs with my duffle bag hanging off my shoulder, the strap digging into the marks he had left on my collarbone. My mother was at the kitchen table, a glass of water in her hand, her eyes bright with a hope I had not seen in months.“Ready, baby?”I nodded. I did not trust my voice.Detective Nora was in the living room, her voice low and urgent, her body angled toward Theodore Pierce like she was trying to find a crack that was not there. I stood in the hallway and watched them.“—cannot let her leave with someone we haven’t vetted.” Nora’s voice was sharp, professional, but underneath it I could hear the desperation she was trying to hide. “She’s a key witness in an ongoing investigation. Her safety is our responsibility.”Theodore—Azrael’s voice was calm and reasonable, as if he had never raised his voice in his life. “With all due respect, Detective, your responsibility is precisely why I am offering her my home. Your agents could not keep a brick from

  • HIS DARK OBSESSION: The Architect   ###044: THE TRAP

    //VESPER//“Mrs. Martin.” His voice found my mother like a lighthouse finding a lost ship at sea. She emerged from the kitchen, tear-streaked and shaking, and he crossed to her in three quick strides, taking her hands in his with a gentleness that made my stomach turn. “I cannot in good conscience allow you to stay in a home that is no longer secure.”My mother looked at him, then at the shattered window, then back at him. Her brow furrowed with confusion, the pieces not quite fitting together.“Mr. Pierce, I don’t understand. Mark said this was about the lawsuit. Why would someone throw a brick through our window over a lawsuit?”Azrael’s expression didn’t change, but I saw something flicker behind his eyes—amusement, maybe. Or satisfaction.“I’m afraid your friend here—Mark hasn’t been entirely honest with you, Mrs. Martin.”Agent Miller’s face went pale. “Mr. Pierce, I don’t think this is the time—”“The FBI doesn’t typically assign agents to protect civilians over civil litigati

  • HIS DARK OBSESSION: The Architect   ###043: THE BREACH

    //VESPER//The rotting didn’t stop. It spread, a pulsating decay that made every breath feel thick and heavy in my chest.I woke each morning to the same hollow ache behind my ribs, a colony of black mold that thrived no matter how many times I told myself the agents outside meant safety. They didn’t. They were foreign bodies, irritants my system kept trying to reject, and every day they stayed made the rejection worse.Agent Miller came by at noon.My mother called him Mark now, a friend from my old archive job who’d stopped by to check on us after the lawsuit stress. He wore a flannel shirt and smiled like a neighbor, but I could smell him from across the room—stale coffee, gun oil, cheap detergent. Every breath he took felt like an invasion of a space that no longer belonged to anyone but the ghost who haunted it.“Vesper, dear?” My mother’s voice floated from the kitchen. “Are you going to pour the tea or just stare at the kettle?”I blinked. The kettle screamed. I didn’t remember

  • HIS DARK OBSESSION: The Architect   ###042: THE CALL

    //VESPER//The silence of the last four days wasn’t a reprieve. It was starvation. A slow, cellular wasting that left me hollowed out and vibrating with a frequency I couldn’t name and didn’t want to understand. I went to work. I came home. I smiled at customers. I checked under my pillow every night like an addict searching for a fix.Nothing. Always nothing.By the fifth day, I had started to believe the rotting was permanent. That this empty, humming shell was all that was left of me.I was wrong. There was still fear. I left the bakery at dusk, the sky a bruised purple overhead, my feet carrying me toward the bus stop on autopilot. I didn’t hear the car approach. Didn’t sense the danger until it was already there.A black sedan screeched to a halt at the curb, cutting off my path. The doors flew open and two men spilled out—thick-necked, caps pulled low, their faces carved from the same desperate, hungry mold. No preamble. No taunts. Just hands reaching for me.One grabbed my thr

  • HIS DARK OBSESSION: The Architect   ###041: THE HOLLOW

    //VESPER//The bell above the bakery door chimed and I felt it in my teeth.A woman in a floral coat walked in. I bagged her sourdough, took her cash, gave her change. My hands moved like a machine I no longer controlled. When she left, I stared at the space where she’d been and forgot what I was supposed to do next.Chime. A delivery driver. I hadn’t realized I handed the wrong order until he corrected me. I nodded, apologized, watched him leave.Chime. Nothing. Just the sound, ringing in my skull like a tuning fork against bone.I stood behind the glass counter with my fingers tracing the edge of the wood and realized I couldn’t feel the surface. Couldn’t feel anything except the low hum under my skin, the vibration that started in my chest and spread outward until my throat itched with it.Four days since he’d come. Four days since he’d poured that honeyed poison down my throat and taken me apart piece by piece. Four days of silence that felt more violent than any touch.I was rott

続きを読む

あなたも気に入るかもしれません

無料で面白い小説を探して読んでみましょう
GoodNovel アプリで人気小説に無料で！お好きな本をダウンロードして、いつでもどこでも読みましょう！
アプリで無料で本を読む
コードをスキャンしてアプリで読む
DMCA.com Protection Status