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Obey

Page 103

by J. Sorelle

Jace

Great. Now I have to scrub my search history of 'discreet body disposal services.'

Nate

It better not be on the company network, pup

Jace

Of course not. It's on my burner phone…

Hypothetical question

If my location services were linked to my main account. How would we disconnect that??

Asking for a friend.

You’re all ridiculous

Nate

Says the woman emotionally manipulating us before nine a.m.

Why I’d never

Elias

And yet you did

The apartment goes quiet once the notifications stop buzzing.

Which means ten minutes later, I’m sitting at my kitchen island in an oversized hoodie with my laptop open, coffee reheated for the second time. Googling BDSM terminology like I’ve got a midterm in forty minutes.

The BDSM test results Nate emailed me sit open beside my search history.

Protocol Dynamics. Primal Play. The terms populate the screen like a language I’ve never studied, but somehow already know its rhythm.

I keep reading. And the longer I read, the more questions I have, but I’m hesitant to ask.

Preston hated questions.

I learned that early, the way you learn not to touch a hot stove—not because someone warns you, but because you’ve already pulled back a burned hand.

Why do you always have to analyze everything?

You say you want someone to take charge, but then you question every damn thing.

Why do you have to be so difficult? Twist.

Until I was quieter, smaller, and apologizing for asking at all. But these men?

These men practically hand me instruction manuals and ask if I need clarification.

My phone buzzes against the counter.

Jace

What are you doing rn? It’s so boring without my Sugar here to keep me entertained.