Page 29 of Pucking Obsessed

“Hayden,” Madison whimpers, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve stopped fucking her or because she’s afraid we’re about to put on a show for whoever decided to show up for tonight’s festivities. I flex my hips into her one more time, my abs flexing with the movement and I gasp at the pleasure that washes over me. It’s only then that I notice Madison’s lip is bleeding. She must have bitten down too hard, trying not to cry out. The haze is leaving my brain, and I realize how fucking brutal I’ve actually been. She’s too small, too delicate, despite the fact that she would argue that she’s not.

“Fuck,” I groan as I reluctantly pull out of her. She winces, her body tensing as I let her slide to her feet. My chest tightens painfully at the sight of her in pain. I glance down at myself, at how slick I am with her, and then I notice the red streaks. It makes me a monster to say this, but the sight has my cock harder than ever. My cock is way too big to have shoved inside her like that, without taking my time, without making sure she was ready.

The pleasure I feel from claiming her is warring with something sharp twisting in my chest. Real guilt, the kind thatmakes my throat tighten and my hands tremble. I’ve never felt this emotion for anyone ever, and in this moment, I realize why.

This must be what love feels like.

I don’t just want her, desire her, and want to claim Madison. I’m not just obsessed with her or infatuated.

The realization is a surprise, and I’m not sure what to think or do about it. This wasn’t the plan, but it explains why my chest felt like it was being ripped open when I couldn’t find her tonight. Madison moves, bringing me out of my thoughts and I realize that she’s trying to put enough space between us so that she can gather her clothes that I tossed on the ground. That won’t do at all. There will never be space between us ever again. I tuck myself back into my jeans, and I see the way her hands are shaking. I brush her hands out of the way and help her get her leggings on, tucking her wet panties in my back pocket. She doesn’t look at me, her face turned away almost like she’s embarrassed.

I press her back against the tree, keeping her close, my heart pounding as I try to figure out what the hell to say. She’s overwhelmed. This is the real her, confused, hurt, and raw.

It kills me because I’m the reason she feels this way.

I brush my hand through her mussed-up hair, smoothing it gently before cupping her chin. Her skin is soft under my fingers, her jaw trembling slightly as she exhales a shaky breath.

I whisper, my voice hoarse with emotion, “Look at me, baby.”

She doesn’t move at first, her gaze fixed somewhere over my shoulder, like she can’t bear to face me.

“Please,” I murmur, my thumb brushing over her jaw.

Her eyes finally lift to meet mine, wide and shining with unshed tears, and the sight of her like this, so open, so unguarded, nearly undoes me. I want to blurt the words out right now, tell her that I love her more than I could ever loveanyone. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I know it’ll just push her away.

I say softly, my words rushed and uneven as I try to make her understand, “I lost control. I hurt you, and that’s the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

Her lips part, but no words come out until she says, “I’m fine, Hayden. It was going to hurt no matter who–”

“Me. I’m the only one who would ever touch you. It was always going to be me,” I practically growl. If she’s not upset with how rough I was, why is she sad?

Madison doesn’t meet my eyes when she says, “Where were you? You were here, with me and then… you were just gone.” She must mean when I realized that this is so much more than just me wanting her. I don’t have a chance to explain without it seeming contrived. “Did you just want to prove that you could fuck me if you wanted to?”

Her voice cracks on the last word, and it’s like a knife twisting in my chest.

I can’t breathe.

She thinks this was nothing to me. She thinks I don’t care about her.

I grab her by the neck, my fingers curling gently around the column of her throat to make her see the truth in my eyes.

Her gaze finally lifts to mine, and I see it.

The hurt. The confusion. The vulnerability she’s been trying so hard to hide.

A single tear slips down her cheek, carving a silent path over her chilled skin.

Madison doesn’t cry. Not when she’s scared, not when she’s angry, not when she’s overwhelmed. She never lets herself cry.

Except now.

And the fact that she’s shedding a tear for me makes my chest ache with something I can’t even name.

I lift my thumb, brushing it over her cheek to wipe the tear away. My touch lingers, and I lean in, pressing my lips to the damp spot, tasting her sadness and hating myself for putting it there.

I open my mouth to speak, but a flash of movement in the distance catches my eye.

Kirsten and Bethany.

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