Page 26 of Obsession
Her heart.
“Jesus fuck,” I grunt, my knuckles white as I beat my dick.
Besides my harsh pants and occasional groans, the sound of slapping skin bounces off the concrete walls. This is what she reduces me to—a restless, pacing animal. My balls tighten, drawing close to my body, and I shudder as white strings of cum land on her picture in quick spurts.
I clamp my teeth together to stop from growling her name like a possessed demon, because fuck, she drives me insane.
Tossing the ruined newspaper to the floor, I fall back against the bed, still clutching my softening length.
Cum coats my hand, but I’m too spent to do anything but shudder through the aftershocks of the orgasm.
Images flood my mind of her covered in blood and cuts, those big eyes filled with tears that threaten to fall as I hover above her. My dick comes back to life as my breathing finally slows. I’m not even surprised. I’m insatiable.
Maybe that’s what imprisonment does to a man—reduces him to an animal?
Fuck that, I already was one.
A dangerous predator with drool dripping from sharpened canines.
12
SAVANNAH
Elliot is waiting for me as I barge into my cubicle in a heap of unbrushed hair hazardously tied up in a messy bun. My mustard scarf is two seconds away from slipping from my neck, my cheeks burn from the cold outside, and my chapped lips are in desperate need of lip balm. It’s on my desk somewhere, hidden beneath news clippings, discarded paper cups, and stray pens.
“Running late?”
I ignore Elliot’s smug smirk as I slip past him and flop onto the chair, finally allowing myself five seconds to breathe. James would have my head if he knew I was late. I already can’t do anything right.
Apparently, my column isn’tjuicy enough.Those were his words. I don’t know what the fuck he wants from me.
Though that’s not true.
He wants me to hang Robbie out to dry. Paint him like a monster for the world to see, but I refuse to do that.
It’s a fine line to walk. James could pull me from the project at a moment’s notice and hand it over to Elliot. The man who’scurrently leaning with his shoulder against the cubicle wall is salivating for the chance to take over my story.
My only leverage is knowing Robbie asked for me.
Not Elliot or anyone else.
Me.
My treacherous little heart swells on cue and grows too big for my tight chest.
“Where did you go yesterday?”
Of course, he’s still here.
The look I level him with is anything but impressed as I roll my head on the back of the desk chair. “Field research.”
“Field research?” His eyebrows hit his hairline.
I drum my fingers on the armrests, popping the P when I reply, “Yep.”
“Is that all I’m getting?”
“Why are you here? You rarely leave your cubicle because you’re too busy kissing James’s ass. But then I get assigned this story, and now I can’t shake you.”
