Page 75 of Unapologetic Obsession
I pressed a kiss on her cunt and stroked her slit with two fingers. When I swiped her opening with my tongue, her head lolled back in her sleep.
“Oh God.”
“Fuck, you…are…addicting,” I stuttered in between licks.
Rose’s head moved side to side on the pillow as I devoured her with desperate hunger, my tongue circling and then delving inside. Her body tensed, her hips lifting involuntarily from the sheets. Though she twisted, I held her firmly in place until sheshuddered, and I heard that raw, broken sound tear from her throat.
“Oh, fuck,” she cried out in her sleep. Or perhaps she had woken up. It was unclear, though the only thing I knew for certain was that she came.
I traced a path upward with my lips—inner thigh, the curve of her breast, the hollow of her throat—until I found her mouth. My cock pulsed against the heat of her thighs. The images in my mind were nothing short of savage. I wanted to see her writhe, to feel her buck and twist under me, to make her understand how it felt to be powerless, desired, and owned all at once. I wanted to hear her beg, to hear her whisper my name with every ragged breath. The being inside me roared with the need to claim her—harder, deeper, until every step she took tomorrow reminded her who owned her.
As much as I wanted to seize her, to unleash the predator I had kept caged for months, I was unsure whether Rose could withstand the full brunt of my attack. The way I wanted to take her would scare her and she would see me the same way as my parents.
I held back instead of giving in to the animal roaring inside me. Instead, I slid along her folds, coating myself in her arousal until I was on the brink. I jerked my cock with my fist, and when I came, it was sharp and raw. Her name tore out of me like a warning, and I painted her skin with my cum. I spread it over her thighs and stomach, working it in with a dark satisfaction that I had hopefully ruined her for anyone else.
When Rose drew in a shuddering breath, I nudged her to my chest. I spent the rest of the night watching her. I grazed my thumb over the apple of her cheek, trailing my finger down to her jaw. I studied her face, tracing every detail. Pink lips parted just enough to reveal a hint of moisture on the fuller bottom lip. Dark lashes cast delicate shadows across her flushed cheeks.Her wild hair splayed across my pillow like a chaotic halo. Even with her messy, tangled hair and smudged makeup, she was a wet dream.
Incomparable.
Invaluable.
Mine.
Every time she stirred, I noted something new about her—the slight asymmetry of her lips, the tiny mole beneath her left ear that no one else would notice. She was the fantasy I was starting to think would never come alive. Now that it finally had, I knew I would never let her go.
Denying myself over the past few months had taken more effort than anything I had experienced. There was no argument about it. No man on this useless planet had wanted a girl as much as I wanted her because my existence was tethered to her.
Rose was my first human connection.
When I was young, I never understood why lesser human beings were obsessed with creating connections. My mother, for example. Her strongest bond in this world was Damon. It was probably because golden boy saw the best in people and forgave her flaws, including her addiction. He saw the telltale signs but wholeheartedly believed she would change. He was always in her corner, and in turn, she did everything in her power to make him happy.
She once stood in line all night to get him the newest gaming console. It was nearly impossible to find due to the high demand. Stock sold out within seconds of becoming available, and the only way to get your hand on one was standing in long lines. But she didn’t mind and even bought the accompanying zombie apocalypse game. Though it was rated M for Mature, it was worth it to her when he had stared at her gift with wide-eyed joy.
“No way, Mom. This is the Nexora Viba,” Damon had said, his voice reaching an octave only dogs could hear.
I placed my fingers over my eardrums to silence all the happiness. Leaning against the living room armoire, I watched the picture-perfect family. They hadn’t noticed me walk through the doors. Then again, my mother couldn’t see anyone else when Damon was around.
Her eyes were beaming, all proud of herself that she could do this for him. “There’s another surprise. Check the other bag.”
He opened the second gift bag and fished out a video game. “Holy shit!Doom of the Dead?!” His voice had cracked with excitement.
“Language, Damon,” she had lightly chided.
“Sorry, Mom,” he had obliged sheepishly. We cursed all the time at school. While I didn’t keep up the facade in front of our parents, poster child was nothing if not obedient. Damon spun the box in his hands. “This is so awesome. But I thought Dad said we weren’t allowed to play rated-M games.”
Her eyebrow arched mischievously. “Then we better make it our little secret. Besides, I think you’re mature enough to handle it.”
“Thanks, Mom. Seriously. You’re the best.” He threw his arms around her.
I scoffed. Mother of the year, ladies and gentlemen. Buying her twelve-year-old violent video games, because last week, Damon had questioned whether she really needed to be prescribed pain medication for a minor backache. She came up with all types of excuses to refill her prescription, and Damon was catching on. This was the perfect distraction so he wouldn’t ask too many questions moving forward. What more could you expect from a drug addict’s parenting skills?
She ruffled his hair, chuckling as he tore into the box. He started setting up the console but paused midway.
“Something wrong, son?” she had asked.
He had frowned, searching inside the box.
“What are you looking for?”
