Page 64 of Unapologetic Obsession
I hadn’t expected the term of endearment, and my eyes flew open. The moment our gazes clashed, he pushed forward, tearing through my unused channel.
“Fuck,” he growled. Sharp pain cut through me while he punched the mattress. “I should have known you’d be so goddamn perfect.”
I bit my lip to subdue the pain. He wrapped his hand around my neck, shocking me. I hadn’t expected the dominance from the upstanding citizen. What was more surprising was my reaction to his primal act. Pleasure pooled between my thighs, contrasting sharply with the budding pain.
To my surprise, he was an animal in the bedroom, but I sensed him holding back for my sake. Restraining his wilder instincts was a challenge for him. I could tell by the way he was controlling the rhythm of his hips. At times, it would intensify, like he wanted to lose control. Then he would remember and rein it in.
It was sweet in a beastly kind of way.
The grip on my neck tightened, leaving him in complete control and me in an extremely vulnerable position. It was an unexpected relief that I had no say in how this was going to play out. I surrendered, relinquishing control to him.
With each thrust, he dove deeper, and his control shattered. The sounds of my arousal and his movements drove me to madness. The pleasure between my thighs grew as the sharp ache faded. There was still some discomfort, likely due to his size, but it was overshadowed by the intense, pulsating friction that followed each movement.
My mouth fell open when he hit a spot I hadn’t known existed. He nearly withdrew, then thrust back inside so hard that I almost toppled over. My heart raced as I gripped the sheets to keep my balance. His rhythm grew wild and uneven, and it seemed it was too late to back down.
Blue eyes blazed with possessiveness he wasn’t known for. “You were made for me, baby.” He pushed deeper, and a harsh groan escaped his lips. “I hate holding back with you.”
If this were him holding back, I would never survive the real thing. “Slow down.”
He didn’t.
To subdue him, I leaned up and took his lips like I had on the deck. I brushed my lips against his. He froze. For a second, I thought he would squeeze my neck. Instead, he crushed his lips against mine. His tongue worked with the rhythm of his hips, and his thrusts intensified.
Overwhelmed and ravaged by him in every way, my body gave out. I convulsed. When I cried out, he squeezed my neck, allowing me only fragments of air. It extended my euphoria, and I fell back onto the bed.
With his hand still wrapped around my neck, he kept fucking me senseless. Throughout, he bit my breasts, my shoulders, andanywhere his mouth could reach. Finally, his hand on my throat tightened as his lips bruised mine with a biting kiss.
His hips jerked, and I felt him release deep inside me.
I was lightheaded by the time he straightened me on the mattress and pulled me to his chest. After the brutal claiming, I was shocked when he ended with a simple kiss on my temple, and whispered, “You’re finally mine. I didn’t just own your pussy tonight, baby, but everything about you. Remember that after you sober up.”
It turned out he had known I was drunk all along. I was merely surprised it didn’t stop him. I thought he was the good guy.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
ROSE
Present
“No!”Adrenaline pumped through my veins as my eyes snapped open from my slumber, my heart thundering in my chest. The same nightmare had been haunting me for days, yet I could barely remember the fragments.
A menacing man flashed through my memory, though I couldn’t make out his face. His voice slithered through my mind like a garbled radio transmission, the words twisted and indistinct. Footsteps echoed ominously in the silence, each step vibrating through my bones as he neared. I remembered huddling against the wall, warding him away with two hands held in front of my face. He kept advancing, and suddenly, his hand shot out to grab my neck, and he…
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the images to fade. They persisted, nonetheless, taunting me. My long hair clung to my sweat-dampened neck as I tried sitting upright, but the heavy arm slung over my chest kept me in place.
“What the hell?” I whispered, turning to find Dr. Maxwell’s eyes were already on me.
I nearly jumped at the figure filling the bed. What startled me more was his clothing, or lack thereof.
Last night, Dr. Maxwell had plucked me out of the medical suite and carried me to his presidential suite, insisting my ankle wouldn’t be ready for weight bearing until the next day. It was a duplex with a grand living room downstairs and a bedroom upstairs. I was momentarily stunned when I saw the suite. It was eerily familiar, like I had been here before and we had done this song and dance in another life.
Dr. Maxwell didn’t say much during the short walk and only put me down once we reached the bed. At some point, he had stripped down to a pair of black boxer shorts, and my robe had ended up on the floor.
I instinctively pulled the sheet up to my chin. As a result, the cover slipped away from him, revealing the defined edges of his hip bones and the sculpted indentations of muscles.
A knot formed in my stomach as the fuzzy memories of last night slowly resurfaced—the massage, then thetonguemassage, and, of course, the all-consuming kiss.
