Page 11 of Deranged and Obsessed Omnibus: Vol 1

Rubbing myself wasn’t enough, so I popped the button on my jeans and pulled the zipper down, being slow and quiet. She was out as she slept on, and I felt adrenaline move through me as I pulled my dick free and started jerking off.

I let go of her breast, grabbed the edge of the sheet, and pulled it downward until her chest was revealed. She hummed softly, and I stilled, watching her face to see if she’d wake up. Her breathing was still even, so I started jerking off again as I cupped her bare breasts.

God, she looked good, unaware I was touching her and masturbating right next to her. Before I woke her up, I slipped out of the bed, cock still in hand, and moved around the mattress so I could jerk off right over her.

While staring at her tits and pert nipples, I ran my palm up and down my shaft, feeling my balls draw up tight as my orgasm rose to the surface. My breathing hitched for a moment before I controlled it and held in my groan as my climax claimed me, and I ejaculated.

I angled my cock at her tits and let my orgasm paint her in milky jets. Thick white ropes shot out of my cock slit and covered the mounds. And God, she was so perfect, because she slept on while I defiled her.

I shook my shaft, making sure all the cum dripped out of the crown, and tucked myself back in. And then I stood there and just admired how good she looked, painted up like my whore.

With one last look at her face, I turned and left. But I knew this wasn’t the end. I’d be back. I’d be stalking her until the moment was right and I took her life.

I now knew killing her would give me the most intense high I’d ever experienced.

I wanted her to be my ultimate prey.

And this was an obsession I couldn’t control.

Chapter Five

Roman

After I left her place, I had one thing on my mind.

To stalk and devour.

The hunt had been going on for two days now. I was prolonging this, playing with my prey, even if the fucker didn’t know it.

In between hunting the asshole who touched her, I visited the diner nightly, hoping to see her again and get that shot of feeling high. But I hadn’t seen her and had to assume her bitch-slapping that motherfucker had gotten her fired after all.

I had my hand in my jacket pocket, running my fingers along the smooth surface of her ID.

Her name was Isla Campbell. She was five-foot seven, weighed one-hundred and thirty pounds, had shoulder-length black hair, and hazel-colored eyes. She was also an organ donor, but when I got done with her, her organs would be useless to anyone.

But regardless of what I had planned for her, Isla fascinated me. The way she moved, the way she smiled to navigate the world. But I could see the truth of her strength and a hint of misery in the hazel depths of her eyes.

That fire inside her… it was something I hadn’t expected to… desire.

And when I left the diner, I immediately went to her apartment and broke in. I lay beside her nightly, barely touching her at first, but always ending the night with me jerking off over her, because my dark and twisted need was too ferocious to ignore.

Nothing would change the pull I felt, the way my obsession with her grew each day.

And I’d just left her apartment with one focus in mind… to kill the motherfucker. For her.

For the last two days—when I wasn’t stalking Isla—I followed that asshole’s every step. Hell, I counted every breath he took.

His name was Zack Sherman. But it didn’t matter. The dead didn’t need names.

His routine was like clockwork. It wasn’t hard to slip into the shadows of his mundane life. He was as predictable as they came—work, home, sleep, repeat.

The hunt was intoxicating. The thrill of knowing that, at any second, I could be right behind him before he even knew it and slit his throat made my cock hard. Hell, I could snap his neck while he slept.

There was no point in killing impulsively. But I withheld killing his worthless ass until the time was just right.

And that time was tonight.

This kill was specifically for Isla. I wanted to give her something special—something that no one else could give her. And what better gift than taking a life for her? And as far as treasures went, giving her the hand of the man who touched her? Priceless.

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