Page 30 of Their Obsession

“Get off of me!” I shriek as my hands move to try to cover myself.

Something like sadness flashes across his eyes as he watches me pull away. But it can’t be hurt. Monsters like him don’t feel pain—they just take whatever they want, whenever they want, with no concern for others. And I just let him come inside me. He reaches down, pulling his boxers up and covering himself. But his eyes never leave me. Even as I break our stare, I can feel his eyes on me. What will I tell Noah? My heart hurts just thinking about my sweet Noah and how sad he’ll be when he finds out.

“I have a boyfriend. You need to go.” My voice breaks as I choke out the words, my eyes trained on the floor. I feel so ashamed.

Rough fingers grip my cheeks. My jaw aches as he holds my flesh tightly in his grip. He pulls my face towards his. Our gazes clash, fire swirling in both our stares.

“He may havebeenyour boyfriend. But I’m back now, and you aremine.”

I scoff, but before I can offer a rebuttal, he lifts me from the couch. My arms and legs wrap around him out of instinct as he lifts me, carrying me as if I weigh nothing. His lips meet mine in a heated kiss. Our lips and teeth brush against each other as he claims my mouth, just as he claimed my body. He walks us across the apartment without breaking the kiss. The grip of his big hands on my ass is so tight that I’m sure there will be fingerprints in my flesh. His tongue sweeps across my lips, demanding entrance. And I relent, allowing him to plunder my mouth with his. Walking us into my room and towards my bed, he breaks the kiss as one hand moves to the back of my head. With a careful kindness that I forgot he possesses, he lays me down gently on my soft sheets.

“Get some rest, love. We can discuss all of this tomorrow,” hesays before planting a soft kiss on my forehead. He stands and begins dressing in his clothes.

“There’s nothing to discuss, Dom. This was a mistake. It can’t happen again,” I tell him with all the conviction I can muster. “You left me, remember? You said you’d always protect me, even from myself. And then you left.” I add the final jab to drive the point home.

His back is to me, and he freezes at my words. The muscles in his back visibly tense as he pulls down the black fabric of his shirt. He’s changed in the last ten years; his skin is now covered in swirling black ink that seems to move in the shadows of the night. He may not like me calling him out on his shit, but I refuse to let him play me and hurt me again. I’ve changed too. I may have let him fuck me, but that doesn’t mean I will let him have any of my love ever again.

“I will be by in the morning with your coffee,” he states as though I didn’t just essentially tell him to fuck off.

Without a single look back, he storms from my room. I hear him making his way through my apartment before the door closes. I wait a moment, making sure he’s gone. All I hear is silence. With caution, I slip from my bed, making as little noise as possible as I walk to the main area of my apartment. The lights are off, everything is silent and still, and the door is locked as if he was able to lock the deadbolt from the outside when he went.

I guess I’ll need to get the locks changed…again.

SEVENTEEN

NOAH

Have you ever had one of those days where things feel completely out of your control? Like you’re walking along, feeling fine, and then things start to take a turn and you don’t know how to stop it? Like the universe is shitting on you and there’s nothing you can do but watch as your life crumbles?

Yeah, that’s how I feel right now.

Yesterday I had my dream job, my dream girl, and was on the way to my dream life. And now, everything feels so out of control. Lilly wouldn’t even look at me this morning as she scurried to her office and closed the door. She appeared tired and frazzled. I wonder if it’s just about our fight or if there’s something else going on. I’m desperate to go talk to my girl. She wouldn’t return any of my calls or texts last night or this morning. If she thinks she can break up with me, run away, then ghost me, she’s got another thing coming. I’m not a quitter,and I’m certainly not afraid of her fucking ex-boyfriend from a decade ago. I need to get to the bottom of it, but I couldn’t skip practice, which has also been an utter and complete shit show.

“Head in the game, Rookie,” Volkkon barks out as he slams me into the boards yet again.

I crumple like a piece of paper and collapse to the ice. He’s been on my ass the entire practice. And I’m fucking losing it. I’m so close to going off on the guy, but he’s my teammate and the star of the league. I’m at the bottom of this food chain. It’s my job to be a team player.

Gingerly lifting myself up and off the ice, I make my way towards the bench. Coach is still as a statue, his dark eyes assessing the first line scoring formation on the other side of the rink. Volkkon’s slapshot immediately lands in the back of the net with impressive force.I fucking hate this guy.I manage to sneak past everyone as they all cheer on and celebrate our new superstar. My entire body throbs with each swift swish of my skate. I’m going to need an ice bath and a scalding shower after this practice. Hopping the boards, I slump down on the bench and squirt some water through the cage and into my mouth. I don’t always wear my full gear and helmet to practice but I’m sure as shit glad I did today.

Although, maybe if I was concussed then Lilly would be forced to talk to me.

My eyes scan the ice quickly. Everyone’s busy. No one’s watching me. Carefully, I slip my hand under the bench to the spot where I hid my phone next to my water bottle. Usually phones are something we’d never bring out of the locker room. I mean, it’s not like you can text with gloves on anyway. But I’m desperate. And desperate men do stupid shit. Stealthily sliding off my glove, I wipe my sweaty hand against my sweater to dry it off before opening my phone.

No new alerts.Fuck.

Why is she ignoring me? I know we had a fight, but couples fight; that doesn’t mean we’re over.Right?In an act of utter desperation, I pull up social media. She’s usually not on here much but maybe it’ll give me something. I type in her profile name. Her glowing smile immediately fills my screen. My cock twitches beneath my pads at the mere sight of her. She’s so beautiful it hurts. Everything about her is bright and light. I crave that brightness she brings to my life. As much as I like looking at her though, there’s nothing here.Damn.

And then a truly nauseating thought crosses my mind. Navigating back to my home page, I search for Dmitri Volkkon’s profile. It immediately pops up. He has over a million followers.Of course he does. His page is mostly filled with promotional shots of him playing or posing in his gear. It looks to mostly be run by some type of social media manager or something. But randomly dispersed throughout areotherpictures—ones that appear to be more personal shots. The most recent one was posted last night, well this morning actually, since the timestamp says two AM. It’s a pair of legs splayed out on a bed. At the tops of the creamy thighs is a sliver of cotton sleep shorts. The rest of the body below the thighs and lower legs are cut off, but I don’t need to see her face to know it’s her. He was with Lilly.My Lilly.In the middle of the night.Fuck!

The bench shaking next to me has me jumping. I was so wrapped up in spying on my new teammate and my girlfriend that I forgot to pay attention to what’s going on around me. Most of the players are still on the ice, unaware of my absence, and Coach is entirely focused on his new superstar.

“Look, he’s going to help us get the cup. So even though he is kinda an ass, you might want to attempt to get on his good side,” Max mumbles as he takes a swig of water.

I grumble a non-answer as I stow my phone back beneath the bench with my water. I’m seeing red. I’ve never felt this heatedfury before. It’s as if I might implode if I don’t get to ram my fist into something. I’m ready to get back onto the ice. Let Volkkon come at me again. I’m ready for him.

“What’s his issue with you anyway?” my line mate asks as he side-eyes me.

Max and I are friends. We both came up from college together, going straight into the professionals, and being the only boys in a room of hardened men naturally caused us to gravitate towards each other. He’s a great offensive defender, I’m good at holding a solid line—we’re a good team. He’s been my line mate for years. He can read me better than anyone else on the ice. However, I wouldn’t say we’re necessarily super close outside of team business. He’s more of a party-goer while I’m more of a stay at home kind of guy. He enjoys the revelry of being a well-known professional athlete in a big city, and I prefer my life to stay private and quiet. He definitely likes to share personal stories—lots and lots of personal stories about his many conquests and all the drama that ensues when they inevitably catch on to his antics. I’m usually more reserved when it comes to talking about women. Plus, this isn’t really the type of thing I think he needs to know. No need to put him in the line of fire. The less he knows, maybe the better.

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