Page 16 of Blades of Obsession

“Whatever fucking dress she wanted to wear,” I retort, a sharp edge to my voice. “And not you, or anyone else has the right to say a damn thing about it. In fact—” My voice drops lower. “—if you talk to her like that again, I will pull out my knife, and I will cut off however many of your fingers I see fit.Notan exaggeration.”

“You can’t do this,” he tries again, and this time, I’m done with the conversation. How thick is his skull that he can’t understand one simple concept?

I slam my fist on the desk. “She’s mine now. Mine to protect, mine to take care of. Mine to break if I fucking want to. Mine to fuck and make babies with since you’re so worried about that. Mine to love, mine to claim, and mine to fucking worship.” I pause, letting the weight of my words settle. “So if you think for a second I’m going to let you treat her like that, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Chapter 7

BLADE

The soft taps of my shoes echo against the laminate floors as I step into Amelia’s room. She’s still asleep, her hair spread out like a halo on the pillow. The comforter rises and falls with each soft breath, her eyelashes fluttering like she’s dreaming. I stand there for a moment just watching her, and that moment stretches into minutes—I don’t even know how many before I realize I’m staring like a creep.

It’s been over two hours since she started her nap, and she’s still out cold.

Moving quietly, I glance around the room. I already knew that she loves the color pink, but her room tells just how much. Pink walls, comforters, pink accents everywhere.

It’s honestly one of the things that draws me to her. Her hyper-femininity—the pinks and florals, the hair bows, the scent of roses wherever she walks, the tennis skirts, the softness. She’s a vibrant burst of color in my dull world.

I’ve never had anyone like her before. Back then, I was usually with party girls for the optics of it all, those with loud, annoying as fuck personalities, so her delicate mannerisms are like a breath of fresh air. She calms the part of my brain that screams at me, the part of me that’s always on edge, ready to snap.

After I get bored of straightening up her cluttered rows of lotions and perfumes, I walk over to the bedside and bite my lip as I look at her. Her tear-stained cheeks instantly send a jolt of electricity straight to my cock. I just wish I’d been the one to put those tears there instead of her jackass father.

I haven’t done anything sexual, not even palming my own cock, since the moment I decided she would be mine. I told myself it would be ten times better when I finally had her if I saved my dick just for her. Even from myself.

The first time I saw her, in the dining hall, I felt a magnet pulling me towards her, but I tried to shake it off. I mean, fawning over a girl, me? But I couldn’t. The more I tried to push her out of my mind, the more she occupied every corner of it.

And that’s when I started keeping tabs on her, stalking her.

It was the twenty-first of August the first day I followed her. Honestly, she was pretty boring—classes, cheer tryouts, library, dinner, and back to the dorms. That was her routine for a while.

She wasn’t going to make the cheer team, so I had to pull some strings with the coach. Practice can be all over the place, so I asked the coach to text me every time practice starts and lets out, and whenever there’s a schedule change. Can you believe she told me I had to pay her to do that?

But it’s worth it. I don’t really care about money. Hell, I could be content living on lower six figures if it came down to it. So really, Amelia can take all my money if she wants.

Back to the task at hand.

Now that Amelia is finally within my clutches, I can finally get a release. I pull down my pants, just to my upper thigh, gripping my cock in my hand. It’s already half-hard just from watching the rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps.

Fuck, she has perfect tits.

I’m a boob guy, through and through. Well, an ass guy too, especially when it’s red from my handprints. But boobs? They’re my bread and butter.

I jerk my hand faster, imagining all the torture I could inflict on hers. I could bite, suck, nibble—fuck, I could fuck them. I could get some nipple clamps and make them sore. I could run my knife along them and make them bleed. I could pierce them while she’s unconscious and run my tongue along the metal before taking it into my mouth.

Fuck.

Goddamn it.

I bite my fist to control any noise from escaping, and my heavy breathing is the only sound in the air. I imagine her on her knees, looking up at me with doe eyes that say she’d do anything I asked. Her chest poking out. Her mouth wide open, ready to take me in. Ready to let me use her however I want.

When I release, I can’t help but grunt, teeth clenched, as the hot liquid spills into my hand. Fuck, after so long that was fucking amazing. I look around for a dirty t-shirt or something to wipe it off with but don’t see one. I scan the room until I spot an open lotion bottle on her nightstand, the cap already off.

Screw it.

I scrape the cum into the bottle, snap the cap back on, and sit it with the rest of the lotions. She’ll never notice.

I turn my attention back to her, the necklace chain running down her soft skin is the perfect fucking view. I just need a taste, one taste, and I’ve waited too long imagining how they feel in my mouth to stop myself now.

Every curve of hers drives me insane. I kneel beside the bed, gently peel her shirt back andfuck, the sight of her nipple pebbling in the cool air makes my cock spring back to life, even after just releasing.

---