Page 10 of Obsession

Backing her into the shower and against the tiled wall, I pressed my body against her, pinning her in place. Gripping the knife in my hand, I didn’t take my gaze off hers. The pain and fear fueled my desires as I etched my name into her hip. As I dragged the blade down to finish writing the T, she finally cried.

My beautiful Hollis sobbed as I turned her to face the wall. Grabbing her neck, I forced her to bend over, and I kicked her feet apart. Rubbing my cock along her pussy, I made sure to brush against her clit with every stroke. Soon, I had her whimpering for another reason.

“That’s it. Tell me what you want, Hollis.”

“You. I need… I want you.”

“Beg me.” I’d never wanted anyone as much as I craved her right now.

“P-please,” she stuttered. “T-take me.”

I took her. Claimed her. Shoving my cock into her pussy, I didn’t go slow or easy. I dropped my knife and slid my hand through my bloody name on her hip before easing my palm around her to her belly. Reaching between her legs, I rubbed her little clit in hard, tight circles. She shattered, her cries of pleasure making something inside me break free. A beast I’d never known was hidden in me.

I leaned down, pressing my chest to her back, and bit into her shoulder, marking her with my teeth. She screamed as I broke the skin and the coppery taste of her blood hit my tongue. And still I kept fucking her.

I made her come twice more before I shot a load into her and pulled out. My cum slid down her thighs, mingling with the blood still oozing from my name on her hip. The water at our feet turned pink with a mixture of cum and blood, and I’d never felt more satisfied.

I quickly washed and watched as she did the same, smirking as she winced when the soap hit my name. It looked nice. Rough. Ragged.

“Get dressed.” Without another word, I shut off the water and got out. I dried myself briskly and tossed her a towel.

She waved a hand to my name on her. “This is going to bleed through my clothes and stick to the fabric.”

“You can use the stuff in the cabinet to treat it, but if it doesn’t leave a scar, I’ll be carving it again.”

As I pulled on my jeans and a tee, I watched as she quickly doctored the wound and pulled on the clothes I’d brought from her place.

The way her hands shook, and she kept casting glances at the door, told me she feared leaving this room. Whether she thought I’d kill her, or she worried about Crash and Kane was a mystery. I held out my hand to her, and she took it, letting me lead her from the room and down the stairs.

Crash and Kane stared at her, their eyes narrowed. I knew what they were wondering. Why the hell hadn’t I killed her? Because I found her much more fun alive than dead. My very own little toy.

“Well, well, well,” Crash drawled, his voice dripping with poison. “Look who finally decided to join the party.”

I glared at the asshole and flipped him off.

Kane snorted, his laughter devoid of mirth. “I knew it was only a matter of time.”

How the fuck had he known I’d keep her? I hadn’t even realized I was craving something like this until now. It bothered me, thinking he could see me clearer than I ever knew myself. Or was he talking about something else?

“You knew I’d keep her?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I meant you had to come down sooner or later. You aren’t the type to hole up in your room with a woman for days. Unless you’re torturing her.”

“Leave us,” I said. My brothers stood and left the room, but I saw the way Crash eyed Hollis, and I didn’t like it. I had a feeling he’d cause trouble sooner or later.

It looked like Kane had cooked today. Bowls of eggs, biscuits, and bacon sat in the center of the table. I grabbed two clean plates and some forks, then motioned for Hollis to sit. She obeyed without question, and I filled a plate for her. We ate in silence, and I contemplated why I wanted more from her than death.

What made Hollis Crane so special?

Chapter Four

Hollis

The door creaked open, and Riot’s hand brushed against the small of my back, urging me into a cluttered sanctuary. The stale air was thick with dust and secrets. Shelves sagged under the weight of old leather-bound books, their spines cracked and faded. In the dim light, I could see personal trinkets scattered like relics of a life I couldn’t begin to understand. He pulled a chain, and a naked bulb flickered above, casting an unforgiving glare on the walls lined with what I assumed were his memories.

“Here,” he grunted, pointing toward a stack of black journals, each one more worn than the last. “My thoughts, uncensored. If you’ve got the guts, take a peek.”

I hesitated, but curiosity was a persistent itch, demanding to be scratched. My fingers trembled as I reached for the top journal, its cover cold and smooth. Flipping it open elicited a crack from the spine that echoed through the silence.

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