Page 104 of The Art of Obsession
“Uhn! Cal, what are you?—”
I slice my tongue from her cleft to her ass like a blade, cutting off all her speech unless she’s moaning, whining, begging. I kiss her, drink her, eat her out so long, I know how every drop of fluid tastes from her labia minora to the majora, from the rim of her opening to her plump clit glistening with her arousal. She shudders beneath my tongue, and when I slide a single finger inside her, bearing down on her G-Spot, Everleigh shatters. Hips lifting, back arching. whole body shaking, she climaxes, giving me her pleasure.
While she’s still unraveling, I sink into her, groaning from the hot haven of her pussy, the suction of her body clamping around me, taking me to the hilt. I fuck her every day, multiple times a day. It’s never enough. It will never be enough. Because it’s not just fucking.
When I remove her blindfold, I’m greeted by soft silver. Not a flaring storm as I expected but a snowfall. The color I would use to paint an early winter morning following the storm…when the trees are crystalized by its signature.
She’s not fighting anymore.
It has me pounding stronger as her flesh stretches to fit me, toholdme. One kiss. She tastes like sin and purity. All my muscles bulge with my release, and I erupt inside her, my release firing through every nerve ending.
Falling against her, whole body trembling, I brush a lock of hair from her face. Her eyes are wide, expressions conflicted.
“It’s true,” I say, my voice steady despite my racing pulse. “You’re pregnant, Everleigh.”
She stares at me, her gaze distant, as if she’s trying to process the words. And then, without warning, the tears start to fall. They stream down her face, the weight of it crashes down on her. It’s too much for her to handle. Too much for her to process. But not for me,
Untying her, I pull her into my arms. She doesn’t resist—she never does when it comes to this. She collapses against me, her sobs shaking her frame, and I hold her tightly as if my arms can protect her from the world.
I stroke her hair, my fingers gentle but possessive. “It’s okay. This is how it’s supposed to be, Everleigh. You’re mine, and I’m yours.”
Her sobs quiet down, but I can feel her heart still pounding, her fear still clawing at her. I pull her closer, my lips brushing the top of her head. “I won’t let any harm come to you. Or to our child. Yes,ours.” I roam my hand to her stomach, hoping she understands how much this is a part of her despite how I set it in order.
She doesn’t admit it yet. But she feels it. If she were in denial, she wouldn’t respond with tears. She would bury herself in her work. Or curse me. I internally chuckle, considering how she would likely try and stab me again.
At her core, Everleigh Lennox feels our dark, mad bond.
No matter what she may believe, how much she denies on the surface, she is just as twisted and obsessed as me. She knows it with every whisper of her inner erotic romance reader. Not just a coping mechanism. In all her sensibilities, her rationalities of how the real world should operate, Cherry is how she feels it.
I pull back slightly, my hands still on her, my eyes searching hers. “You’re deeper to me than my scars, Everleigh. You don’t just get to walk away from this. Not now. Not ever.”
Her breathing hitches, and I know she’s not ready to hear this, but I don’t care. She knows I am not her undoing. I am her redoing. As she is mine.
“I’ve shed your blood,” I tell her, brushing my knuckles along the raised, silver heart on her chest. “You’ve shed mine.” I take her hand and press the tips of her fingers to the scar on my shoulder and the one on my right chest. “You’ve carved yoursignature into my flesh as I have yours. It’s not just some fleeting thing, not just some passing moment. It’s raw. It’s real. It’s forever. It’sus.
“Stop.” Her voice cracks. “You’re messing with my mind. I can’t think when you say things like that.”
A smile tugs at my lips. “Because you know you don’t need to fucking think. You feel it with every bone in your beautiful body. In the fabric of your heart. In the moving and shaking of your soul.”
“This isn’t…love.”
“You don’t want love.” I narrow my eyes. “You want more. It’s why you’ve spent your life searching for more, seeking the next high of deep emotions in all your travels, with every artifact. You want to touch something real, something immortal. And I’ve given you more.” I capture her chin, forcing her gaze to mine. “I’ve immortalized you, Little Quill.”
She lifts her chin higher, those silver eyes burning. “And what about freedom?”
I snort. “Freedom is overrated.”
“Says the one who holds the chains.”
My jaw clenches, but no guilt twists in my chest. I strengthen my hold and lean in until my breath arrests her. “You were chained long before me, Everleigh. Chained to your work, to your trauma, and the life of safety you believed would protect you, even as you suppressed the desires screaming to be let free. Because true freedom gives you the ability to unleash anything you could possibly desire. I’ve given you everything.”
“And that makes you what? A savior?” she spits.
I chuff a laugh. “I’ve never claimed to be. No, I am the worst of sinners. A devil in the flesh of a human God of Art. But real love is possession, passion, obsession. And obsession is an art form I have spent all my life mastering. It isn’t safe. You can’t hide from it or run from it. Because I won’t let you run. Becauseif you love something, you never set it free. You fight for it. And I will fight for you.”
I kiss her, tasting her tears before taking her trembling hands, trapping them between our chests. “Believe I will fucking fight for you, Everleigh,” I murmur, my voice a low growl. “With every drop of blood in my body, I’ll fight for you. I will spend every moment in pure and impure devotion to making your wildest dreams come true. You are my darkest and deepest dream. Mine.”
“Yours.”
