Page 21 of Frozen Obsession

Xena’s body continues to writhe beneath me, caught in the throes of a climaxI prolong with each measured thrust of my hips. The wooden floor beneath us creaks, slick with sweat, barely holding up under the force of our violent rhythm. Every movement feels like it's on the edge of breaking—her, the floor, the entire moment.

"Roman!" she screams once more as I bite down on her shoulder again, hard enough to break the skin. My dick, now softening, slips out of her, and I release her. She collapses onto the floor, spent, her body trembling with aftershocks.

"You still take everything I have to give, don’t you?" I murmur, nudging her with my foot to roll her over. She grins, the beauty mark on her lip stretching as she whispers, "Fuck you."

I can’t help but laugh at that. "You did," I reply, my voice rough. "You fucked me over and over until my dick was raw, and I felt like every second of those ten years I was locked up was exorcised from my body, one thrust at a time."

I watch her, sprawled on the floor, her skin shimmering in the dim light. The tinsel is tangled in her dark hair, catching the light like some fallen star. Her beauty is a contradiction—soft features marred by the rawness of our encounter, the perfect image of a broken doll.

I take a step back, my knees weak, threatening to buckle. But we need food before the weather turns worse, and I still have to fix that window, tarp it before the storm hits. Steeling myself, I scoop her up, her body limp in my arms, and carry her to Pop’s room. Her breathing is heavy, eyes half-lidded as I lay her down.

This time, I use Christmas lights to bind her wrists, ensuring she stays put. I brush a stray lock of hair from her face, my fingers lingering on her flushed cheek. "You’re going to get cleaned up, and I’ll make sure of that," I whisper, my voice carrying a note of finality.

She blinks up at me, her eyes glazed with exhaustion and something else—something that makes my chest tighten. "Roman…" she starts, but I cut her off with a quick kiss to her temple.

"Rest," I command softly, tightening the lights just enough to keep her still. "You’re not going anywhere."

As I pull back, I can’t resist one last look at her—bound, vulnerable, and utterly spent. She’s mine, and I’ll keep her that way, no matter what it takes.

Chapter Twelve

Roman

Taking my pop’s old pickup truck, I drive into town. Luckily, people are too busy getting ready for the holidays to notice Roman Senior’s crazy son—the golden boy killer. But I fucking hated that kid. His golden boy persona was all an act. I’d hear how he would degrade Xena, gaslight her while cheating on her. It’s one of the reasons I took her virginity; he didn’t deserve to be her first. Not that I’m any better. But she was mine then, and she’s mine now.

I park the truck in the small plaza, thankful that the grocery store and pet store are in the same spot. Shutting off the engine, I step out and head towards the pet store first. The moment I walk in, I’m hit with Mariah Carey’s "All I Want for Christmas" blaring through the speakers. I start browsing the aisles, looking for what I need. Bingo.

My hand goes up to grab the box, turning it over to check if the voltage on the collar is strong enough for her but not enough to actually do any real damage. I want to zap her into submission, not kill her or really hurt her. That’s something I’d rather do with my cock.

The weight of the box feels just right—secure, not too light, not too heavy. I study the different settings on the collar, making sure there’s room to tighten it to my liking. The padding on the inside catches my eye; she’ll be wearing this for a while, so it better be comfortable. I plan to get her sober one way or another, and withdrawals aregonna be cruel.

I’m gonna make her life hell before I show her heaven.

I head to the counter. The saleswoman eyes me suspiciously, taking in my disheveled appearance and the collar in my hands. I flash her a charming grin, the kind I’ve perfected over the years to keep people from asking too many questions. Thankfully, it works—her clumpy lashes bat as she gives me the once-over with those hungry blue eyes. "You must have a big dog… a big dog for a big man."

I nod slowly, the grin still plastered on my face. "A new pup, actually," I say, placing the collar on the counter. She reaches for it, her long red nails clicking against the box, clearly itching to ask more questions. But I don’t give her the chance. I dig into my pocket, pull out a crumpled fifty-dollar bill, and slide it across the counter. She reluctantly takes it, her curiosity still lingering.

I walk out of the store, the cold winter breeze hitting me full force as I head towards the grocery store. The tinkling of Christmas music gets louder as I walk inside and grab the basics—milk, pasta, cereal, snacks, water, and some juice. I pay with the cash I took from Xena’s purse—not like I’ve got a job or money of my own. But that’s gonna change. I just need to make sure Xena gets clean first.

Back at the house, I unpack and put away the groceries before starting to cook something for both of us. Tonight, she’ll eat well, get fucked, and then the days to come will be the hardest—for her and for me. I’ll be going over the cabin from top to bottom, making sure there’s no hidden stash or anything that can make her relapse.

She screams in the background, but I continue my task, cutting up carrots and celery to add to the chicken browning in the pot. After the chicken is nicely browned, I toss in the rest of the ingredients to make chicken noodle soup—herfavorite. Xena’s screams grow angrier and more volatile as her body starts to crave a fix. It’s going to be a long night for both of us.

Good thing I’ve got ten years of pent-up need to counter her addiction. I’ll keep her busy, let her body focus on my cock instead of her fix. I’ll substitute the oxy with me.

Placing the heat on low, I wash my hands and grab the collar before heading to check on my little snake. "ROMAN!" she shrieks. "Motherfucker!"

Opening the door, I’m greeted by a mess. She’s shaking, eyes wide and full of tears, her wrists bleeding from where the restraints have dug into her skin. I try not to let the sight of her like this move me—I have to be strong for both of us. She’ll break, and I’ll be here, ready to pick up the pieces.

"You piece of shit," she shrieks, thrashing around. I straddle her without saying a word, and she spits in my face. Her warm saliva coats my lips, and I groan, licking it off as I pull the collar out of the box. Xena is completely losing her shit beneath me, and I can tell it’s not just the drugs. Something else is going on. She’s never been great at listening, but this… this is different.

"Relax," I say, slapping her face lightly—more of a wake-up call than a punishment. "I’m not the enemy here." I whisper as I start fastening the collar around her slender neck. She thrashes wildly beneath me, a mix of fear, rage, and withdrawal making her movements erratic and unpredictable.

"Stop it, Xena!" My voice is stern, commanding, in direct contrast to her wild, animalistic behavior. She needs structure now more than ever. She needs me to hold firm where she cannot.

"Get off me! Get off!" she snarls, spittle flying from her lips as she fights against the collar, against me. But I’m stronger—there’s no way her 5’1" frame is going to move a 200-pound, 6’3" man. My grip is unyielding as she struggles, but I’m ready for this.

"I hate you!" Her words are spat with venom, her honey-brown eyes blazing with fury and defiance—the same fire I fell in love with so manyyears ago. But now, it’s distorted by the poison that’s invaded her. I’ll bring her back. I don’t know what the fuck happened, but I’ll bring her back.

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