Page 87 of The Dark Obsession

Thank fuck she’s able to look back at that with humor because there was no other way of stealing her all for myself. I wasn’t about to leave her there despite the risk that she might not forgive me for it.

“That was a necessary evil.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ve done worse.” Her elbow gently pokes at my ribs.

“Not to you. Never to you, baby girl.” I look deep into those big, round eyes, trying to convey how serious I am about this.

Her mouth opens without sound, her gaze glazing over.

Being kept in her gilded cage, Malory has never truly encountered the dangers of the real world, never expected anyone to truly hurt her. That's why she was so trusting towards me since the beginning, and I took complete advantage of her innocence.

Only to turn around and make it my life’s mission to protect her, to care for her.

“What I was trying to get at is that my past doesn’t cancel out yours. If you think that I’ve had it worse than you, it doesn’t diminish your own emotional trauma.” I take her delicate face between my palms.

“No matter how different it is from mine, it isn’t less important. Your feelings are valid Malory. Don’t hide them from me. Even if I may not be able to feel them myself.”

We don’t break eye contact as I watch the deep sadness followed by relief and gratitude pass over her soft features.

“Thank you for saying that. It means a lot.” Malory covers my hand with hers, leaving a smear of green oil paint behind as she squeezes it. “Abuse is abuse, in all its forms. I'm slowly coming to terms with it.”

My lips connect with her forehead, a sense of pride blooming in my chest.

“Will you let me watch?” I ask even though I know she doesn’t let anyone near her artwork, much less witness the process of them coming to life.

“Sure.” To my disbelief, Malory scoots over, making room for me beside her. “Though the initial sketch always looks weird before it transforms into something.”

I watch her turn back to the canvas, tracing the soft strokes of the brush with my eyes as I mimic the sensual movement with the tip of my finger on Malory’s back.

That’s when I realize she’s barefoot and wearing my oversized shirt, a white one that I almost never touch but it’s giving me the perfect view of her little, rosy nipples.

And fuck me, are those my boxers?

I didn’t know they could look this good hugging her hips.

The effort I’m putting into stopping the blood from rushing to my cock is genuinely one of the hardest things I’ve done in my life up to this point. Still, I have a feeling that this girl will put me through much worse.

Every day I crave her more and more, never satiating the carnal need within me to own every single piece of her.

“What made you want to paint again?” I force myself to change my train of thought.

“It just felt right.” Malory shrugs. “Would it be too cheesy if I say that it was probably you?”

“No. What about me?” I rasp against her ear as I pull her into my lap, wanting her to elaborate on her feelings for me.

“I-I’m not sure.” Too flustered to go on, she nuzzles my neck, placing the most tender kiss just below my ear and my heart constricts in a way it hasn’t before.

Not when I first saw her, or fucked her, or kissed her.

The fucking and kissing didn’t necessarily happen in the order of how things should naturally progress but who gives a fuck. It was perfect for us, just how it was meant to happen.

Yet somehow this small gesture of her affection is more profound than everything else.

We stay entwined on the balcony floor until the sun is high in the sky, the midday heat beating down on us as I gradually get more concerned about Malory’s porcelain skin getting burned.

“I was thinking, we could hike to the top of this mountain. That way you’ll get to see the whole valley, maybe get some inspiration for your paintings.” I suggest, nibbling at her ear.

“Like, right now?”

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