Romans & histoires Jealousy Got Me Strapped

Ezra hissed against my lips, his amber eyes flashing with a cold, possessive rage. "We don't compete with strays," I growled, clamping my forearm across Ezra's lower back, We were shutting the gate on her because the jealousy was a living, breathing thing in the room. If she couldn't give us total allegiance, if she was going to run to Rylan the second she felt pushed, then she didn't get to have us at all. A sharp, low whistle sounded from the iron grate by the floor—Tarek’s signal from the lower tunnels.

Alvin muttered under his breath, his voice low and bitter, each word laced with the heat of his jealousy. The question echoed in his mind, filling him with a sense of frustration and helplessness that he couldn’t shake. His pulse quickened, the steady thump of his heartbeat growing erratic as the jealousy tightened its grip on him. Every fiber of his being bristled with the emotions he had kept buried for so long, and now, watching Patricia laugh so effortlessly with Caleb, those feelings surged to the surface, impossible to ignore.

I test the bindings anyway, pulling my right arm up with a sudden burst of strength. The straps tighten instantly in response, biting down into my flesh with a predatory grip, as if they are alive and reacting to my defiance. “Get me out of this,” I growl, my voice sounding like it was dragged over broken glass. “That depends entirely on you,” Easton says, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the wall. “Will you actually stay in one place long enough to get treated, or are you going to keep acting like a lunatic?” I tug again, harder this time, fueled by a rising surge of panic and adrenaline.

I had to go after him and talk him out of this awful idea. As I moved to get up, though, I felt the cold stone against my skin. Looking down, I remembered the velvet straps, barely covered by the coat he’d undone. The straps were bunched together from where he’d dragged his fingers along it, making me not only exposed, but a total mess. I put my hands over my face and screamed into my palms, all of the tension built up from the past few days exploding over into one great yowl of vexation. Damn him! Damn it all!

TRISTAN I was losing it completely. The sight of Maya spread open in my passenger seat. Her legs wide and that tiny black dress bunched around her waist with her glistening pink pussy dripping for me- had snapped the last thread of my control. My cock throbbed so hard it hurt, straining painfully against my pants like a caged animal. Jealousy still burned hot in my veins from the club. That Jax prick with his hands on her and her body grinding on someone else.

Not with him. They looked too comfortable. The laugh came again, light, almost grateful, and something inside me went taut. My hands trembled against my sides. My wolf surged, pressing against my ribs, demanding, restless. MINE. The word wasn’t thought. It was instinct, cutting deep, branding itself into the marrow. Jealousy poured through me like poison. It hollowed my chest, made it hard to breathe. But why!? Why would I be jealous if Riven laughs with another guy?

She was workin’ him good, back arched, heavy tits bouncin’ in his face, hips rollin’ like she was fuckin’ him for real. My jaw locked tight. Heat shot up my neck, chest gettin’ tight as hell. What the fuck? Jealousy hit me like a brick to the gut. I ain’t never felt this shit over no stripper before. But watchin’ his dirty hands all over her body—touchin’ what I just paid twenty grand to see naked? Nah. My blood boiled. That pussy was still wet from dancin’ for me. Those moans I heard? They was supposed to be mine.

I wanted to know how someone like Mad Shanewood got jealous because the feeling was definitely not pleasant. “Let me get this straight. You gave the strippers extra money so that they would not touch you?” I squinted my eyes to read his expression, but I saw no guilt, but amusement. “Why is that? You didn’t wanna be caught on camera that you were having a hard on?”

He’d taken a bath, dressed, and walked out in a pair of tailored pants and a bodice lace top, the front open down to the middle of his chest, dapped in cologne. Where was he going? Who was he meeting? Why?… Fuck. I couldn’t do a single thing, and in all honesty, the jealousy was getting to me. The door swung open and Jamal swaggered in, looking a little down, and as a good friend I ought to ask, but I wasn’t a good friend. I was a stupid soul obsessed unhealthily over his stepbrother. “Where’d Theo?” I blurted out, not caring how hasty or unnecessarily attacked I sounded.

Strands of it clung to my inner thighs like some kind of jewelry. I smiled at my reflection slowly, satisfied with what I was seeing. Both of them had me again today, and both knew I’d been with the other. I’d seen it in their eyes, the flash of jealousy, the raw competition, and the way it turned them harder, rougher, and more desperate. Exactly what I wanted, and soon, very soon, I’d make them start sharing. Both at once, filling every hole, and using me until I couldn’t walk straight.