Obsession, 4
I wanted death. He gave me something worse, hope.
I was numb. Broken. A ghost haunting the ruins of my best friend’s death, dragging guilt like a second skin. The night I witnessed a murder in a dark alley should’ve ended me. Instead, it awakened him.
Adriano De Luca. A killer in a tailored suit. Eyes like cold fire. The devil who followed me home. He should’ve silenced me. Instead, he claimed me.
Now I’m not his hostage, I’m his obsession. His possession. His twisted salvation. Every brutal kiss, every cruel command, drags me deeper into a world where pain feels like penance... and pleasure feels like rebirth. I should run. I should scream. But all I want is to obey.
Because somewhere between my ruin and his darkness, we found something neither of us expected: a reason to live.
Be Warned: BDSM, forced seduction
Excerpt:
“Beautiful.”
I whirl around sharply.
I stop breathing for a second.
A man is standing in the shower with me. Not just any man. The man from the alley. I had only seen his silhouette, but I know deep in my guts that he’s the one.
His eyes, an icy shade of olive green, dig into me like a knife stabbing into my skin. It makes me feel—in ways I haven’t felt since the accident. His gaze is both heated and provoking, scoring every inch of my naked body with intent to devour.
The shower lighting lets me make out the dirty-blond shade of his hair, tamed in a clean buzz cut. His face is clean-shaven, drawn into a rigid mask of intimidating cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and thick brows.
His aura is not just cold. It’s wicked. He’s wrapped in fire alarms that should send warning signals to my brain, but I have never been fascinated by someone in equal measure.
“How did you get in?” My voice is low, controlled, even, contrasting with my raging heartbeat.
“You are not that much of a fast runner. I snuffed you out immediately. You left your door unlocked, too,” he states shrewdly.
His steps are measured and panther-like as he closes the distance between us. I try not to flinch.
“You were following me.” I suck in a breath.
He stops before me, towering over me. I barely reach his shoulders. My toes feel stimulated enough to push me up a little as my nipples harden because of the warmth coursing between us.
“Why did you run?” His voice, dark and gravelly, kisses my skin, and I’m tempted to screw my eyes shut.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him it was because I was scared, but for some odd, twisted reason, I don’t want to give him that satisfaction.
“Are you going to kill me?” I whisper.
“I could.” He cups the back of my head, sinking his fingers into my braids.
“Then do it,” I spit out. “You’ll be doing me a favor.” For a fleeting second, the other time, when I saw him shoot that man, a part of me wanted to stay still so he would find me and shoot me too.
Death is far better than being constantly tormented by survivor’s guilt.
“Unfazed. Impressive,” he murmurs. “Get on your knees.”
I sink to my knees before him at his command, like he’s some sort of god. Maybe he is. The god of cruel, dark vengeance that’ll finally descend upon me with what I deserve for the pain I’ve caused.
He snatches my wet blouse from the floor and crouches before me. My buds peak to life. It’s strange how my body comes alive before a man who took someone’s life in front of me.
Then he leans forward and wraps my hands in a grip before tying them up.
“What are you going to do?” I swallow thickly.
His eyes meet mine. “Your eyes are dead. It’s like you don’t see anything or care about anything anymore. It’s so fucking attractive. I want to see how beautiful they’ll look while you choke on my cock.”
I must have choked on my spit for a moment. However, my pussy throbs at his dirty words. Anticipation surges through me and takes me in a chokehold.
He stands before me, his green eyes on me as he slowly undoes his fly. His slacks and briefs come down at once, revealing his thick, veiny cock leaking with pre-cum. My throat dries up as my stomach clenches with hunger. He’s so big.
“Spread those pretty lips,” he orders, stroking himself.
I didn’t think a man stroking himself could be so attractive until now. My lips part softly, and I could have sworn that a drop of drool leaked from my mouth.
His cock teases the skin of my face, leaving trails of pre-cum everywhere it touches and causing me to moan softly. The veins around it remind me of how wicked his aura is. And when he pushes himself into my mouth, I thrust my chest forward, wanting to have more of him.
He fills up my mouth so much that I can’t think of anything else. It’s my mouth he’s claiming, yet it feels like he’s invading my body. It’s the most unsettling and consuming thing ever.
“So beautiful,” he cups my face, stroking it.
He pulls out of my mouth and slams back in without warning. I moan, clenching my thighs together. I want to reach for his legs and hold on to them, but being subdued and made to take his cock down my throat only stimulates me more.
I try to suck him off, to gain control over the situation, but he brutally thrusts in and out of me, wordlessly reminding me that he’s in control.
He wants to use me, so that’s what he does.
He uses me so mercilessly that I’m whimpering, struggling for breath, and dripping all over my thighs.
He grips my hair harshly as he begins to fuck my mouth roughly.
“You look so fucking beautiful from up here, taking my cock just like the little slut you are.” He degrades me with his words, and all I want is to please him even more.
I don’t understand that twisted dynamic.
