Page 10 of Chains of Obsession

Without another word he rips the button on my jeans and pulls them down, I shiver and want to pull back, but my body is still as I seem to fall under the spell again. My breath starts to quiver as he takes off his clothes, I try not to notice his chiseled abs and muscles that stare at me. As I look over his body, I notice the tattoos he has on his neck, arms, chest and hands. My chest feels like it’s on fire and he takes off his pants quickly. This will not change my mind about the situation we have found ourselves in.

My thoughts get interrupted by the removal of his boxers, the sight of his twelve-inch cock staring me in the face. I gulp and try to step back as I stumble.

“Don’t you dare think of trying to make me surrender.”

“Who said I’m going to try?”

His words make my body ache, he presses our bodies together and rubs a finger on the lips of my vagina. Making me shiver and lean towards him, he slowly rubs my clit getting me wet, longing for more than just his finger touching me. Before he does anything else he steps back, I can barely catch my breath. But his taste is still on my lips, a lingering reminder of everything I can’t control.

“You’ll fight it, but you’ll want it. And when you do, my dear, I’ll be waiting.”

He murmurs against my ear, his breath hot on my skin. I want to scream and tell him that I’m not his. But instead, I do nothing. Because for all my defiance, for all my hatred, I can feel the pull between us, irresistible and consuming. It scares me more than I care to admit. My body responds to him no matter how much I wish it wouldn’t. I’ve walked into a storm, and now, I’m trapped in it.

“This isn’t love, Matteo. It’s a power struggle” I say, my voice trembling.

He watches me, his expression unreadable. “Maybe it’s both.”

I shake my head, my heart pounding. “You don’t know what love is.”

“And you do?” he counters, stepping closer again.

I don’t answer. Because the truth is, I don’t know what this is.

Chapter three

Unwanted Attraction

Matteo

Ididn’t expect herto stay quiet for long. The defiance in her eyes, the way her anger curls around her like a shield—it excites me more than I care to admit. I’ve always known how to control things—how to bend situations, people, to my will. But Amelia? She’s different. She doesn’t care about my power, my reputation, or the empire I’ve built. She has become the very thing I can’t stop thinking about.

Amelia doesn’t just hate me. She fears me. That much is obvious. But there’s something else beneath the layers of distrust. Something raw. I know it’s there because I feel it, too.

I find her in the library late one evening, her back to me as she flips through one of the old leather-bound books lining the shelves. I lean against the doorframe, watching her, my eyes following every movement. There’s a softness to her, the way her fingers trace the pages, but it’s an illusion—one I know well.

“Looking for an escape,cara mia?”

She freezes, a faint sigh escaping her lips. Slowly, she turns, meeting my gaze. Her face is guarded, but there’s an underlying tension that flickers across her features.

“I’m trying to find some peace,” she snaps, her voice sharp, but I can see the cracks in her armor. She’s rattled, and that’s something I don’t let go of easily.

“You won’t find it here,” I reply, stepping closer, each movement deliberate. She shifts slightly, like she’s preparing for a fight.

But this time, it’s not the same. The air between us is charged with something I can’t quite name. Her eyes are narrow, but she doesn’t step away.

“And what exactly do you think you’re offering, Matteo?”

I’m closer now, within reach. She’s still standing there, her stance defensive, but her chest rises and falls with the same rapid rhythm as mine. It’s in the way her breath catches when I’m near her, in the way her gaze flickers to my lips for just a fraction of a second. I can see it now, that little spark. She feels it. I’m not blind.

“What I’m offering, is an understanding of what we are. And what we will be.”

Her lips press into a thin line, but I can see the tension in her shoulders. She’s holding herself back, fighting what’s pulling at her.

“I don’t want anything from you, Matteo,” she says, but the words don’t have the conviction they once did.

“Liar,” I reply, and my fingers brush the back of her hand.

She doesn’t pull away, not immediately, and that small, telling gesture speaks volumes. I lean in, my breath mingling with hers, and for a moment, we’re caught in the gravity of it all. The world outside this room, this house, everything fades. It’s just us. And in that silence, I know she feels it, too.

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