Page 27 of Dangerous Obsession

I hold her lips open with my fingers so I can lap up all her juices, and she moans, her body arching forward. I pull back and push my tongue into her entrance again, groaning as I feel her clench around it. I fuck her with my tongue, tasting her as she moans and writhes. It's like a battle, my mouth fighting her strong muscles for dominance, and I'm determined to win. I want her to feel pleasure, but I also want to give her a reason to come back to me.

My cock is so hard it hurts; the head aches and my balls are swollen. I want to come, but I don't want to stop eating her pussy. I slide my tongue back up over her clit and suck it into my mouth, biting down lightly on it while she gasps.

"I'm going to—" she moans, and I don't stop. I don't give a fuck if she cums on my face, that's what I want. I want to make her explode. She rubs her clit with her fingers as I tongue it, and she moans louder and louder as her body trembles and spasms. I feel like she's going to slide right off this kitchen counter, so I eat her harder, pushing her backward, then feel one of her feet on my shoulder for more stability.

When she calms again, I can't take it anymore. I stand up, and press my cock against her pussy. She lets out a soft moan as I rub it against her, over her clit and down her slit. I spread her lips with my head as I rub it over her hole, then slowly push it in. I groan as her pussy wraps around me, sucking me in with a tight grip. I bite my lip and push my thick pulsing dick into her. She gasps and slowly rocks her hips against mine, grinding her pussy against my pelvis.

"Fuck me," she whispers.

I grab her hips and pull her onto my cock, sliding it deep into her, then pulling her back on it again. I groan and squeeze her tits as I do it. She grips the counter and rocks back and forth, her pussy getting wetter with every thrust as I pump my cock in and out of her.

"Yes, fuck me, Leo," she moans.

I pump my cock deep into her and she moans into my chest, her pussy clenching around my cock. I pull it out and she whimpers, but I don't give her any time to miss it before sliding it back in, groaning as my cock fills her. I pull out and push back in, her pussy getting wetter with every thrust. I feel her body tighten up and I know she's about to cum again.

"Shit... just... oh god," she pants, grunting as her muscles clamp down around my dick. My balls are ready to explode. She milks me so hard I have no self control. I need to pull out before I come because I'm enjoying this, but I can't resist the pressure buildup. I feel it start in my groin, low and warm, but rising quickly, spreading throughout my body, my muscles tightening, my heart beating faster and harder. I know I'm about to cum. I can't pull out. I pull her close to me so that my cock is deep in her, and she bucks against me as she comes, my cock throbbing and twitching as I pump rope after rope of thick hot cum into her body. I feel her get wetter as I cum, milking me for every drop, her pussy sucking it up as I slide into her. I can't believe how good this feels. How good she makes me feel.

Our bodies finally relax. She slides off my cock and gasps as it slides out of her. She sinks to the kitchen floor, leaning back against the cabinets, her pussy gaping and dripping with cum. I sit down next to her and pull her to me. We're covered in sweat, panting and staring at each other as the orgasm fades away. I just can't believe how good that was. I've never cum so hard before. I've never had my cock used like that before. I'm exhausted, and so is she, but we just keep staring at each other, unable to say a word. We just keep breathing, staring, panting. I think I'm in shock.

"Well... say something," she says, touching herself lightly.

"That was..." I search for the word, but no words come. I don't let women dominate me.

“That good?”

“I could get used to it…” It’s about as close to the words “I love you” as she’ll ever hear from me. “Now, are you still bored?”

“I think I’ll have a shower then read.” She stands, forcing herself off the floor and walks over to the doorway, leaving her clothes on the ground. “Want to join me?” she asks, then walks off without another word. I’m left reeling from the way she has power over me. I like it, and now I want more.

16

WILLOW

It’s been eleven days in this new safehouse. Eleven days of boredom and eating. If I don’t get out of here soon, my waistline is going to expand and none of my clothes are going to fit—if I can even get back to my apartment to retrieve my clothing when this is all done. I’m not sure how Leo determines when it’s safe or not, but I’m ready to leave now. Sitting at this kitchen table swishing my spoon around the bowl of corn flakes is tedious and frustrating.

“What’s up your ass?” Leo asks, pouring a cup of coffee. It’s too early to deal with him being this way. I wonder if he’s had to hunker down in a safehouse before, and if so how many times. He seems to be so at ease with complete separation from society. The longest I have ever gone without staying connected to other people was a few weeks when I was forced to change my identity. I make friends easily because I’m kind. Leo, on the other hand, has a rough edge to his personality.

“Sick of corn flakes and reading books. I want to go for a walk or something.” I drop the spoon. The cereal is soggy and the milk is getting warm. I don’t like pouring food out but it’s just not appealing to me right now. Something is going on with my appetite too; I feel like I’m hungrier than ever, but nothing sounds good.

“No walks. We have to stay inside. We’re not too far away from the city that they wouldn’t be looking for us. If they do their homework, they’re likely to see that this house has been used in the past. It’s only a matter of time before they figure it out and we’ll have to move to another safe house.” He adds a spoonful of sugar and a splash of milk and stirs his morning brew.

“Then why not just leave the city?” Standing, I carry my bowl to the sink and pour the soggy cereal into the disposal, turn the water on, then flip the switch. When the machine runs smoothly again, I shut it off.

“It’s not that easy, Willow. My family pays for this house. I have money, yes, but I can’t access it right now because my father still pulls the purse strings. We’d be completely on our own, which means if the Italians came after us, with no place to hide, no cash to buy ammo or food to feed ourselves, we’d be sitting ducks.” He brings the mug to his lips and sips the hot liquid.

I dry my hands and turn my back. I’m sick of his rational excuses. They keep me grounded in the fear that I’m being hunted just deeply enough that they make sense and I am resigned to stay here. I walk to the front room and stand by the picture window, staring out over the lawn. By all accounts this is a nice home. It’s a nice neighborhood. A few times I’ve done this and noticed children playing and let my mind drift to a happier life where Leo and I weren’t hiding out and fighting like cats and dogs. One where we were a family and we loved each other.

Shaking the thoughts from my mind, I shuffle over to the couch and plop down on it, stretching out until my head rests on one arm and my toes touch the other. My shirt rides up, pulling up over my hips and leaving my panties exposed, but Leo has seen me completely naked enough times I feel comfortable lying around in my shirt and panties around him. I reach for the remote and turn the TV on. There are a bunch of morning talk shows and news broadcasts. Nothing good will come on for a few hours at least.

I continue flipping through the channels until a commercial for the art exposé comes on. I let the commercial play out and feel sad about the fact that I’m going to miss it. I have friends that will be there, customers who come to see me every year, and no one even knows I’m missing right now except Stuart. He probably thinks I am just off on a trip to some exotic location which I forgot to inform him about.

When the commercial is over, the news comes on. I raise the remote to change the channel again but the broadcaster’s words catch my attention, so I turn it up.

“Police are investigating the disappearance of a local artist, Reba Sanders. Ms. Sanders was last seen two weeks ago at the gallery on Fifth Street where her paintings are on display. Witnesses say they saw Ms. Sanders exit the building with a gentleman just before closing time. She didn’t report to the studio the next day and hasn’t been heard from since.

“Authorities are investigating this as a kidnapping, though a search of her apartment showed it had been ransacked.” The female news anchor turns to her male counterpart who continues speaking.

“Yes, Lyla, and this case took a strange turn three days ago when authorities released an image of Ms. Sanders and a detective from our very own NYPD spoke up. This is what he had to say…”

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