Page 103 of Obsession
With the gun gripped tightly in my hand, I fist her mustard scarf and look at her brown hair.
At this angle, it could pass as her.
Pleasure licks a hot path from my balls to the tip of my cock buried deep in her throat. I thrust upward, losing myself to the fantasy.
After cutting the engine,I throw open the door and climb outside. Rage courses through my veins. I lost control and gave in to urges that were, quite frankly, beneath me. I am here to create art. Not defile myself, like any other sick sadist.
I look behind me and frown when it dawns on me that she’s still in the car, thinking she’s safer in there.
A spark of anger flares again.
Gripping the roof, I peer into the car. “Get out, Savannah. I won’t tell you again.”
“Emma,” she whispers quietly as though I give a flying fuck about her real name. Right now, she’s someone else. She’s who I need her to be.
“Get the fuck out!”
She soon moves when I straighten up and aim the gun at her. The door opens, and snow crunches beneath her boots. She looks at me over the car roof, and I notice her makeup is ruined. Mascara streaks run down her cheeks, and her perfect, rosy lipstick is smeared. She’s a fucking mess, and I am beyond pissed. I can’t display her like this.
Her body retreats back a step as she glances at the large steel bridge, readying to run.
My voice cuts through the silence before she can bolt. “Wipe your face clean with snow. I don’t want any mascara left on your cheeks.”
When she doesn’t move, I grit out, “Move!”
Slowly crouching down, she scoops up a handful of snow and rubs it over her face as I round the car. She looks so pretty down there with her mustard scarf that’s dusted in white and trailing the ground. She peers up at me, and I shake my head. “Not good enough. More.”
I wait while she digs her red, frozen fingers through the snow and rubs it over her face again. She tips her head back, her face wet, and I drag the gun over her cheek, marveling at her beauty.
“Strip.”
Her eyes widen, and she glances around the clearing by the river’s edge. But then her eyes snap back to me when I cock the gun.
She springs into action and quickly removes her clothes, clinging to some elusive hope that I want to rape her. The thought briefly enters my mind when she pulls her woolly jumper over her head. She tosses it to the ground before unclipping her bra. Her breasts are much bigger thanhers, swaying in the ghostly moonlight. I barely glance at her large areolas before ordering her to put the scarf back on.
One look at the gun in my hand, and she reaches down to pick it up.
When it’s wrapped around her throat, I step closer and slide my fingers through strands of her brown hair. “Do you like art?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Art? Do you like it?”
“Yes…?”
“Don’t lie to please me. Do you like art?”
There’s still a smudge of mascara at the corner of her eye, and I wipe it away from her cold skin. Her shaky breaths are visible in the air as she trembles beneath my touch.
“Lie down on your back.”
Surprisingly, she doesn’t fight me, like the previous girl. Instead, she lies back, crying softly.
I kneel over her and cup her chin, still undecided on how to display this one. There’s so much potential, so much beauty in her soft features. But those lips… I drag my thumb over them, feeling the moisture gathered there. They’ll have to go now that they’re smeared with lipstick. My insides churn at my loss of control in the car.
After tucking my gun into my back pocket, I wrap my long fingers around her slender throat and squeeze, compressing the mustard scarf.
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