The Obsessed Novella Series

Chapter Two-2

When he speaks, his words sound beautiful, no matter what they are, no matter what the context. Just then I want to hear him say something offensive. A searing, obscene word. Like “fuck.” The word f**k coming off his tongue would probably sound like doves crying and angels singing.

How bizarre. My line of thought is not a line at all, but a scribble. A messy doodle on a wrinkled piece of notebook paper.

“I was waiting for you.”

“Waiting for?” I ask, now even more confused.

“You’ve been watching me for weeks,” Kane says as he moves behind me. Not touching. He’s simply there. A presence I can feel but not see. “Why?”

“Why…” My words trail off. I don’t want to tell him why, I don’t want to seem like a depraved soul. An obsessed stalker.

But he knows why. It hits me that this may be a game for him. He put himself in front of me daily until I noticed. Then once I did I fell right into his trap.

Was his approach some weird foreplay?

I shake my head slowly. My voice is low, breathless. “It was what you wanted, right? For me to notice you? If so, why didn’t you ever speak to me?” Because the man certainly can’t be shy, or an introvert like me.

He finally touches me, a finger sweeps my long hair off my shoulder, away from the right side of my neck. The air feels cool against my exposed skin. His body heat licks along my back as he leans close. Closer. Then he presses his lips against the curve of my throat. It’s soft and delicate, like a butterfly landing on the center of a blooming flower.

“I’ve been waiting awhile to do that.”

I still don’t understand why he waited so long. Why not approach a woman you’re interested in? “You never looked at me once, but you’ve been waiting to kiss my neck?” I murmur, not hiding the disbelief in my question.

“Yes,” he says against my skin. “Every day I could see your body react when I walked in. You softened, you looked at me with heat I couldn’t miss.”

I shake my head only slightly, not trying to dislodge his lips which reminds me of silk brushing up and down my neck. Then the tip of his tongue draws a line along my spine.

“So, it was foreplay.”

“I wanted to make sure you were interested.”

“And my outburst cemented that.”

His hands land on my shoulders and he squeezes them gently as he places his mouth to my ear. “Yes. You demanded I touch you.”

That I did.

“Just how much do you want me to touch you?”

“How badly? Or how much?” I ask.

He releases my shoulders and moves around to stand in front of me, looking down once again. The man could intimidate without trying. “Both.”

Heat creeps into my cheeks. Not from embarrassment this time. Instead, it’s my burning desire fueling the flames.

I want him badly.

I want him a lot.

My body feels on fire.

“Don’t make me guess, Lila. Tell me. Tell me what you want me to do with you. What you want me to do to you.”

A simple answer would be “everything,” but I doubt he’ll accept that as an answer. He seems to be more detail-oriented than that.

Start simple, stupid.

“Kiss me.” I struggle to keep my voice from lifting at the end. I don’t want it to sound like a question, but more as if I know what I want.

“Is that all?”

I almost laugh at his question because we both know a kiss will not be enough. “No.”

His smile widens, the corners of his eyes crinkle. He’s amused. “Coffee first?”

“Oh, hell n—" Before I can finish, his mouth crushes mine, his lips moving, his tongue separating my lips, exploring my mouth with power and determination.

His fingers dig into the back of my head as he presses us closer. With a tilt of his head, he seals our mouths tighter together. A groan builds at the back of my throat. My eyes squeeze shut because I can’t think of anything except what he’s doing.

His kiss dominates me. Takes control of my body from head to toe. It makes the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge.

With one kiss, he now owns me.

He cups my face as he breaks the contact, moving only enough so I can speak. But still only a breath away.

Just a breath. I don’t move. I can’t. I open my eyes and meet his. His blue eyes make me shiver because they are shadowed, unreadable. And completely disturbing.

“Again,” I whisper.

With a slight curl to his lips, he presses them against mine once more, this time more gently. Our tongues tangle, and I lay my hands on his chest. I place one directly over his heart so I can feel it beating under my palm. His races as fast as mine. Not a steady beat, but a pounding tattoo.

As he moves down my jawline, I tilt my head to offer my neck. His tongue, warm and wet, slides down the side of my throat making me almost purr. My n*****s have turned into painful peaks, and I want him to touch them, suck them.

I don’t even know this guy’s last name.

But as his hands shift down to my shoulders, I realize I couldn't care less. His legal name could be Kane with a K, and I wouldn’t give a flying f**k.

“What else do you want, Lila?”

Again with the questions. I don’t want to tell him. I want him to know my needs. He’s forcing me to think, to acknowledge that I want this stranger more than I’ve ever wanted anyone before.

This connection, this draw, makes no sense. It’s heady, almost intoxicating.

He smells good. Dark spices, tangy. Right then, I know I need to taste him. Does he taste like he smells? Like an exotic dish that tantalizes my senses?

I inhale him deep into my lungs and say, “I want to take you into my mouth.”

Without a word, he straightens and steps back from me. If I thought his eyes appeared dark before, they’re even darker now. Dangerous and stormy.

He’s no longer looking like a satisfied kitten who drank a dish of milk. He’s back to that lion stalking his prey as he watches me carefully, cautiously.

Most men I know would have had their pants down and their c***s out before the offer was even finished. Not this man. He stands stock still and studies me, making me want to squirm.

Then suddenly one corner of his mouth lifts, and he offers me his hand. “We’ll skip the coffee.”

I ignore his hand and push myself off the stool and drop to my knees in front of him. Right on the kitchen floor. I reach for his belt buckle, and his hands fall to his sides as his stance widens. I glance up his body and see him watching me quietly. His expression unreadable.

I will see what I can do to change that. My fingers are trembling so I fumble a bit until I can unhook the buckle and unfasten his slacks. I slowly slide his zipper down and stare at the juncture of his open pants with anticipation. It’s like Christmas morning.

I’m ready to unwrap my gift.

Since his stance is wide and his thighs are muscular and thick, his pants fall only past his hips. His boxer briefs are blue like his eyes and, from what I can see, he certainly is going to be giving me a very, very nice gift.

I swallow hard and try to control my breathing as I run my fingers down the cotton covering his bulge. I want to see him. I want to hold him, but I’m enjoying the anticipation of the unknown.

He doesn’t move or make a sound as I cup him within my palm and feel the weight and heat of his balls tucked within his briefs. I glance up again. Still no reaction. I slide my fingers in and along the elastic waistband and slowly reveal what I’ve been waiting for.

My mouth waters at the sight of precum beading at the crown of his c**k. I dart my tongue out to capture it. The salty goodness tastes like heaven, and my eyelids flutter shut. My p***y is wet and clenching, desperate to have his hard length, his thick girth within me.

He tucks a finger under my chin and lifts my face to him. “Look at me while you take me into your mouth.”

I do. My gaze never wavers as I wrap my lips around the head. The only sign on his face is a slight movement, a very tiny twitch near his right eye. Not the reaction I’m looking for. But I’ve only just begun.

I wrap my fingers around the root of his c**k and squeeze. I can’t continue to look at him. I need to concentrate on making him break.

Deeper and deeper, I take as much of him as possible. My lips stretching, my tongue sliding, my mouth sucking. My eyes flick upward when I hear a noise. I didn’t imagine it, but he still isn’t showing me any reaction. He’s keeping himself together, his control solid.

Now more determined, I run my tongue up the thick vein, capture the head in my mouth, suck harder, before lightly scraping my teeth over the most sensitive area.

My own actions make me ache for him, wet for him. Instead of stretching my lips, I want him to stretch me inside, fill me completely.

I take another pass from the root to the tip and his hips jerk. No, not a jerk, only a slight twitch. The man seems to be made of steel. Immune to the wet heat of my mouth, the softness of my tongue.

Another twitch, another sound. He’s letting his façade slip. His hands dig into my hair, pulling it tight, making my scalp scream. I lift my gaze enough to see his eyes, now hooded, his lips slightly parted. His fingers clench and unclench in my hair following the same rhythm of my movement.

I slide my mouth up and down faster, and I finally hear his breathing become ragged, shallow. I want to smile my triumph, but I can’t since he remains hard and long and thick within my mouth.

His thrusts start small, shallow, as he pulls my head towards him. I fight my panic as he bumps the back of my throat over and over. I swallow and breathe through my nose, my eyes water. I relax my throat, and I still can’t take all of him. It’s uncomfortable, but I want to see him break. I want to be the one to bring a look of unadulterated pleasure to his face. I want to hear him cry out my name.

As a tear rolls from the corner of my eye, I peek up at him again. His eyes squeeze shut, his jaw tightens, his lips press together. When a low moan escapes him, his eyes pop open, and he catches me watching him. His eyes darken as he holds my gaze, his chest heaves as my name escapes his lips.

And as his body tenses against me, he’s about to fall apart. About to come undone.

“Lila… Lila… Lila,” he chants on each breath. A raw sound escapes him, and then he grits his teeth and releases his hot, salty c*m at the back of my throat. He still has a death grip on my head, holding me tightly as his c**k pulsates on my tongue. And I accept all of him.

Because he’s mine.

He just doesn’t realize it yet.