Page 17 of Chains of Obsession

“Maybe not. But you’re afraid of something. Yourself, perhaps. The way you can’t help but respond to me.”

Her cheeks flush, her defiance faltering. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re intoxicating,” I counter, my hand brushing against her cheek. “Even when you drive me mad.”

She swats my hand away, standing abruptly. “You don’t own me, Matteo.”

I rise to my full height, towering over her. “Don’t I?”

The challenge in my voice is deliberate, and the way her breath hitches tells me she feels the pull as much as I do. I step closer, my hand circling her wrist.

My lips are brushing against her ear. “But you can’t deny this. The way your pulse races when I’m near. The way your body responds to mine.”

She’s trembling now, though whether it’s from anger or desire, I can’t tell. Probably both.

“Let me go,” she whispers, though there’s no strength behind the words.

I loosen my grip but I don’t move. Instead, I tilt her chin up, forcing her to look at me. Her eyes are glassy, her lips partedslightly, and in this moment, she’s the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.

“Tell me to stop,” I say, my voice hoarse.

Her lips part, but no words come. And then, in a heartbeat, she surges forward, her hands fisting in my shirt as her lips crash against mine. The kiss is fire and fury, a clash of wills that leaves us both breathless. It’s raw, unrestrained, and completely consuming, just like everything about her. I take her to the bed, and open up her robe. It falls, exposing her completely naked body standing before me.

“You’re mine.” I say with a low growl. Not letting her respond, I grab the back of her neck with my hand and give a firm squeeze. I draw her face back to mine. I suck on her lips and then the side of her neck.

I bring her body down onto the bed. Amelia’s legs squirm as I place my hand underneath her arms and throw her whole body backwards. I pounce and pin her down, immobilizing her legs and arms. With one of my hands, I hold her arms still and then I peruse her body with the other.

I gingerly rub my fingers down her slender body starting at her neck, around her tits , down her stomach and then down to her pussy. Two fingers suddenly find a home inside her pussy and my mouth on her nipple. She gasps and arches her back somewhat. Amelia still tries to move her legs but mine are keeping them in place until I notice them stop all together. Her soft moaning changes to a loud exclamation of pleasure as she cums. I get up slightly to free my legs but I do not give her excess to her arms.

I remove my trousers and boxers with my free hand and guide my cock to her dripping wet cunt. I slam it deep inside of her as she screams out. I am so far into her that I am pushing through her engorged cervix. I can visually see her stomach raising with every thrust of my dick. Amelia is moaning veryloudly and is struggling to free her hands. Suddenly her hands slip out from my one so I grab both arms and pin them to her side. I take her petite body and pull it down further onto my cock and she screams in an intense orgasm. I feel her throbbing pussy gripping my massive cock with all her intensity. I lean up to her face and whisper breathlessly in her ear, “Not this time Amelia…”

I grab her shoulders and keep her from getting free from my dick and I cum hard, deep inside of her. I sit there for a moment releasing my entire load, draining my balls inside her. When I pull out, a huge amount of my cream pie flows out of her sweet red pussy.

I roll over to my back next to her. I slow my breathing enough to tell her, “Don’t ever forget that you are mine.”

She remains silent and doesn’t protest. I expected her to but I can see her from the corner of my eye, that she probably couldn’t. I pop my head up a bit and I can see a tiny smile form on her face. I smirk and lay back down.

Chapter six

Shock and Devastation

Amelia

The past month feelslike a fever dream—an exhausting cycle of heated arguments and moments of wild, uncontrollable passion. Matteo is a storm, all-consuming and relentless, and I am caught in his wake, struggling not to drown. Every day is a battle. He insists on knowing where I am at all times, his jealousy flaring at even the most innocuous interactions. I push back, refusing to let him control me, but he always finds a way to pull me back into his orbit. Yet for all our fights, the nights are a different story. When Matteo looks at me with that dark, smoldering intensity, it’s as if all the anger between us ignites into something else entirely.

I hate him for it, for the way my body betrays me, for the way I can’t help but crave the fire he brings. But even in those moments, when his lips are on mine and the world fades away, there’s a part of me that remains guarded. A part of me thatknows this can’t last. The dizziness I’ve been feeling isn’t going away. My body feels different, more sensitive, and I’ve been waking up with an inexplicable nausea that lingers through the morning. At first, I chalked it up to stress, the endless tension of living in Matteo’s shadow. But now, as I sit with my hand resting on my stomach, I can’t ignore the possibility any longer.

The next morning, I slip out of the house under the guise of needing some air. Matteo’s men don’t stop me, though their sharp gazes follow me until I’m out of sight. I head to a small clinic on the outskirts of the city, where the nurse doesn’t ask questions. When the results come back, my heart stops.

I’m pregnant. The world tilts, and for a moment, I feel like I can’t breathe. Tears prick my eyes as I clutch the paper in my hand, my mind racing with what this means. I should tell Matteo. He has a right to know. But the thought of his reaction—whether it’s anger, possessiveness, or something else entirely—makes my stomach churn.

I need time to think, to figure out what this means for me, for us, for the life growing inside me. The realization doesn’t settle easily with me. My body feels different now, more alive and fragile at the same time. I need to tell him before he finds out from one of his men. But secrets have a way of growing, of pressing against the walls you build around them until they threaten to burst.

I walk to his office late one evening, the door is open to reveal the soft glow of the desk lamp casting shadows across his sharp features. He’s deep in thought, his fingers steepled as he studies a report in front of him. The weight of telling him sits heavy in my chest as I stand in the doorway, gathering my courage.

“Matteo,” I say softly, stepping into the room.

He looks up, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. There’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes before his expression hardens, his defenses snapping into place. “What is it?”

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