Page 20 of Pucking Obsessed

The primal urge to fill her claws through me. I imagine pushing deeper, emptying myself inside her, and then thrusting even after I’m spent. I’d need to make sure she feels me in every part of her, taking up space where no one else ever will. My cock throbs painfully at the thought, straining against my palm, and it takes everything in me not to groan out loud.

I swallow hard, my eyes tracing the curve of her body, the way her tank top hugs her like a second skin. Her chest rises and falls in slow, uneven breaths, and my focus drops to the outline of her nipples, pebbled and begging for my tongue to lavish them with attention. When Madison is finally mine, I’ll spend hours…fucking days on just her nipples.

I lean in, careful not to wake her, and let myself breathe her in. The scent of her hair is sweet, and I feel it settle in my lungs. I want to bury my face in it, pull her into my lap, and hold her there until she understands that she belongs to me.

I swear I can hear it already, soft and broken:“Hayden.”That's it, it’s enough to send me over the edge. Hot, sticky cum coats my hand and I bite my lip until I taste blood, trying to keep quiet. I’ve made a fucking mess, and now I’m annoyed that I’ve wasted it when it belongs inside her sweet little pussy. I’m sure I’d love to paint the rest of her body with my cum, but right now anywhere that isn’t inside her feels wrong. I could stay here all night, watching her sleep, breathing her in, letting this sick, possessive need for her fester, making my chest feel tight.

I realize that if I want a chance with Madison, I need to change up my plan. I need to show her she can trust me, and how she needs me the same way I need her. It’ll be then, and only then, that I’ll strip her bare. I’ll taste every inch of her, and claim her so completely she’ll forget what it feels like to not have me inside of her.

MADISON

I’m getting ready for tonight, and the nerves are really starting to get to me. My mother is calling it her bachelorette party, but it’s really just a dinner Mr. Lockwood insisted on having to celebrate her and their swiftly approaching wedding. She sent this dress for me to wear, and I actually don’t hate it. It's short, baby pink, and made out of frilly tulle material.

My hand tightens around the strappy heels that Hayden bought me when he stocked this room for me. I haven’t worn these yet because the thought of trying to walk in them on the cobblestone walkways on campus seems like a bad idea. My gaze flies to the door when there’s a sudden, loud knock. Kirsten is supposed to come over to ride with me, and I guess she’s a little early.

I clear my throat and glance at my reflection one last time, smoothing my palms down the sides of my dress. The anticipation of the night and everything I don’t want to face buzzes low in my chest. I’ve successfully avoided Hayden since the evening in the cathedral, but I know I’ll have to see him tonight.

“Coming,” I call out when there’s another loud bang on the thick wood. I frown, shifting my weight as I fight with the straps of my stilettos, trying to get them secured. The thin silver buckles are maddening, slipping through my fingers as I wobble like a newborn deer. “Coming. Gimme one second. Ugh! These damn shoes.”

The words come out in a frustrated huff as I teeter, one heel on, the other dangling uselessly from my hand. I can already picture Kirsten on the other side of the door, arms crossed and tapping her foot like she’s been waiting for hours. It wouldn’t be the first time she showed up at a time completely different than what we agreed on.

I give up, taking the shoe off and letting it dangle from my fingers as I march over to the door barefoot, muttering under my breath about why the universe clearly hates me. I yank the door open, ready to deal with Kirsten’s snark, but I freeze.

Hayden stands there, leaning against the doorframe like he owns the whole damn building. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a gray hoodie that looks soft enough to sink into, his damp hair a little messy like he just ran a towel through it after a shower. The faint smell of soap drifts in with him, wrapping around me like a warm hand curling at the back of my neck.

He holds an oversized bouquet of daisies, the bright white petals and sunny centers beaming up at me. If the heat in his gaze is any indication, he’s committing every inch of me in this dress to his memory.

Something in my chest flips, that traitorous little organ giving me away as I stand there, stunned. My heart hammers hard enough that I’m sure he can hear it, and worse, I feel that familiar warmth pooling low in my belly just at the sight of him.

I swallow thickly when he asks “Aren’t you going to invite me in, princess?”

He says it casually, but the way his eyes flick down to my bare legs, lingering just a little too long before snapping back to mine, makes my skin prickle with heat.

I tilt my head, trying to play it cool even though my pulse won’t settle. “I suppose, since you brought my favorite flowers.”

The words slip out before I think them through, and I blink at the daisies, their simple, cheerful petals almost too perfect against the roughness of Hayden’s hands.

“I don’t know how you could even know that,” I say, letting a little more honesty creep into my voice. “No one’s ever bought me flowers. Not even my parents.”

Hayden steps into the doorway, his body close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off him. His lips curl just slightly as he hands me the bouquet, his fingers brushing against mine as I take it. “I told you,” he says quietly, “I know everything.”

I inhale softly, catching the faint, fresh scent of the daisies as I hold them against my chest. They feel delicate, almost too fragile for me to hold.

Hayden shoves his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, his gaze never leaving mine. “And I’m trying to be better. To not be so…”

“Stalkerish?” I finish for him, raising a brow, a cheeky smile tugging at my lips. As dumb as it sounds, the flowers have made me a little giddy.

Hayden grins, the glint in his eye sharp and deliberate. “I knocked this time. And I prefer the term attentive.”

I roll my eyes at how ridiculously serious he is when he corrects me. His steps echo mine as I cross the room, and I try to ignore how close he is. I keep my eyes fixed on Chapel’s side of the room, zeroing in on a vase perched on her desk.

I grab the vase, because I know she won’t mind as long as Hayden doesn’t touch anything on her side of the room. I head over to the bathroom to fill it with water and then set the vase onmy desk with a quiet thud and start arranging the flowers, trying to ignore the fact that Hayden is hovering just a step away.

I tell myself not to look at him, not to give him the satisfaction of knowing what he’s doing to me, but it’s getting harder to pretend I don’t feel him everywhere. I swallow hard, my hands shaking slightly as I adjust the stems.

The truth about how I’m feeling right now is worse than I want to admit.

I missed him.

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