Page 53 of Endless Obsession

CuriousDove24: I’m about to put it in. Please tell me I can. I need to come so badly. I need this. Please.

Venom69xxx: Good girl. You’re so pretty when you beg like that. Tied down on your stomach with your hands and feet all wrapped up in that soft rope. You sucked my cock so well earlier, dove. Now you get to be fucked with it. And if you come all over my cock just like I want you to, you can have my cum, too, pretty dove.

CuriousDove24: Oh god—fuck, it almost feels too big. I needed this so badly. I need you to fuck me.

Venom69xxx: I’m going to slide it in nice and slow, dove. You’ll take every inch of my thick cock. Fuck, dove—I’m stroking myself right now, thinking about this. Let me know right before you come. We’ll come together.

I give up all pretense of waiting. My only goal right now is to hold off my own climax long enough that I don’t come before she tells me that she’s about to. I start to stroke my slick, aching length, gripping the base tightly at the end of each stroke, moaning every time my fingers and palm slide over the swollen tip. I rub pre-cum around the head, hissing through my breath as I imagine that I’m just barely dipping into her tight pussy, making her beg for it before I thrust into her again, hard. I want to do exactly what I just told her—tie her down on her stomach with her head at the end of the bed, feed her my cock until I’m dripping with her saliva and she’s begging to be fucked, and then make her come hard while I pound into her.

I’m so close. So fucking close. I’m panting, my muscles wound tight, desperately trying not to come, until I see the message that I’m dying for pop up on the screen.

CuriousDove24: I’m about to come, Venom. Your cock feels so good, I can’t hold off. Please let me come. Please, please…

Venom69xxx: Come for me, pretty dove. I’m going to come so fucking hard for you.

I imagine that it’s her pussy clenching around my cock, instead of my fist, as I pump it hard, staring at the screen. Miles from here, Charlotte is fucking herself while she pretends she’s coming around her mystery man’s cock. The thought sends me over the edge, imagining her pretty mouth open on a moan, her body tightening around that silicone length. I’ve never been so fucking jealous of a toy in my life as my legs splay open and my hips thrust up, the orgasm shattering me as my cock explodes.

Nothing that I’ve done with my own hand has ever felt this good before. My eyes are shut so tightly that I see colors as my cock throbs and cum sprays over my hand, over my thighs, probably ending up in places that I’ll have to clean up later as I come so fucking hard that I feel dizzy, like I’m going to pass out. I moan her name as I come, the sound spilling from my lips as all of that built-up pleasure explodes from me, and I shudder as more of that sticky heat spills over my hand. I can’t remember ever coming this much before, or this long.

“Charlotte—fuck, Charlotte—” I fuck my fist hard, my oversensitive cock still spurting, dragging out my climax until my balls feel sore and drained. I’ve never come this hard from sex before. I feel foggy afterward, disoriented, and it makes me wonder what it would feel like to fuck her.

It occurs to me, for the first time, that it might not just be me who ruins her for anyone else.

She’s ruining me.

I swallow hard, blinking at the screen as I reach for tissues to clean up, but Charlotte has already logged off. Whether it took me too long to come to my senses, or if she came to hers and fled out of embarrassment, I don’t know.

But what I do know is that I can’t wait to see her again.

—-

Monday morning, I find myself watching her walk into her building for work again, as I lean against the wall opposite the street. When she and Jaz disappear from view, I head down the street to a cafe, getting a coffee and puttering around on my laptop until I can head to Cafe L’Rose and pretend to run into her again for lunch. I don’t get much in the way of work done—all I can think about is her, and last night, and our date this weekend. About the fact that I don’t know how long I can hold off actually getting her into bed. The desire to have her in reality is fast outstripping the satisfaction that her internet fantasies are giving me, and I need more.

That doesn’t change the fact that more is a distraction.

Right now, I should be thinking about the gala on Friday, and how I’m going to stop my father from selling Sabrina Petrov into sex slavery. I should be thinking about how I’m going to foil his plan and get information to Agent Bradley without getting caught. I should be forming an intricate, foolproof plan that won’t result in Sabrina getting hurt or me ending up on the wrong end of Lev’s hunting knife.

Instead, I’m thinking about how Charlotte tasted on my tongue, and if the rest of her will feel as soft as her pussy did against my lips.

At eleven, I make my way over to Cafe L’Rose. Charlotte isn’t there yet, as expected, and I make myself comfortable, scrolling through articles on my phone as the server brings me a beer and an appetizer of spinach dip with pita chips. I don’t eat them, leaving them there instead to make it look like I’ve just arrived to get lunch.

Just shortly after noon, as usual, Charlotte walks in. This time, she’s alone, and my pulse spikes. I’d been prepared to interrupt her and Jaz, again, but this is even better. This gives me an excuse to walk over and talk to her.

Once she’s seated with a glass of lemon water, I get up and walk over to her table. She looks up at my footsteps, and I catch the barest hint of alarm in her expression in the instant before excitement takes over.

I know exactly what that is. It’s her subconscious telling her that I’m dangerous, that in this moment, she’s prey. That she should run, instead of what she does, which is smile invitingly as she tries to smother some of her obvious excitement.

“You’re here again.” She bites her lip. “Jaz is working through lunch today. Do you want to join me?”

“I can’t say no to that.” I slide into the chair opposite her easily, as if there’s nothing engineered or strange about this at all. Just a happy coincidence.

“This is twice now you’ve been here on my lunch break. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were stalking me.” She says it with a teasing grin, light-hearted enough that I know she’s joking. It calms the momentary spike of alarm that I felt, thinking that she might be on to me.

But she’s not. She’s not even trying to find something wrong here. She trusts me, more than she should, and that sends a spark of guilt through me. It’s not that I don’t know that what I’m doing is wrong.

I just want her too much to care.

“It’s not stalking if you tend to eat at the same place,” I tell her with that same light, teasing inflection in my voice. “Besides, who says it’s you that I’m here for? This place has the best steak sandwich I’ve ever eaten.”

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