Page 46 of Brutal Obsession

Tomorrow, we will go back to hating each other. Tomorrow, all the bad things can sweep back into my brain. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

Right now, I close my eyes and enjoy the slow strokes of his finger on my clit and the way his cheek feels against the top of my head. And the sounds of the movie and the people around us. I should be wary, or afraid, or just altogether unwilling to orgasm in front of people.

But when it sneaks up on me, I turn my face into Greyson’s neck and bite. Hard.

His fingers push into me, and I clench around him. I try not to make a single noise with my teeth locked on his skin. My tongue flicks out, automatically soothing the area. His cock stiffens, pressing against my hip.

Why do girls always go for the bad guy?

I don’t think I can change him. I don’t think I want to—in fact, I’d be happy if I never had anything to do with him ever again. If we walked away right now, I’d accept it.

No, Violet. That’s a fucking lie.

Girls like me need guys like him to spar with, to fight. To hurl the miseries and the anger at someone who can handle it.

He withdraws his fingers and puts them to my lips. I clench my teeth and ignore it. There’s no fucking way I’m sucking on his fingers that were just in me. Nope.

His breathy laugh is the only warning I get before he pinches my jaw with his free hand. He grips my cheeks so hard, my mouth opens to avoid the pain. And then his fingers slip into my mouth, pressing down on my tongue, and he waits.

Mortification floods through me at the taste, and the position, and the power of him. I loathe it, but he’s more stubborn than me. He rubs his fingers back and forth across my tongue until I close my lips around his two fingers and tentatively suck at them. He releases my jaw, and that hand slides down my back.

He lets my tongue explore his fingers, the edge of his nails. The texture of his knuckles. When I’ve done what he wants, he pulls them from my mouth. I lick my lips and lift my head to glare at him, but he’s uninterested in my reaction.

It isn’t the aftermath that he cares about—it’s the act. And since he got what he wanted, he’s ready to focus on the movie.

I let out a sigh and put my head back down on his shoulder.

I’m so fucking tired. I don’t give a shit that my eyes close. That anyone could’ve seen what just happened. Instead, I fall asleep.

15

VIOLET

Willow and I follow Knox, Jacob, and Greyson into our apartment. Jacob has a metal baseball bat in his grip, just in case there’s someone still lingering. Knox and Greyson walk in empty-handed.

They split up and search our apartment, checking over every square inch. Willow and I ignore their orders to wait outside and go with them. I follow Greyson down the hall to my room. He finds it with unerring accuracy, which makes me wonder if he was behind that first time it was destroyed.

“See anything familiar?” I lean against the doorjamb.

He moves in a small circle, taking everything in like I did to him.

This morning, I woke up alone in Greyson’s bed. I don’t think anything happened, but I don’t remember the rest of the night. One minute, I was coming on his fingers and then falling asleep… and the next, I woke up in his bed, with sunlight streaming in through the window.

He sees things I don’t want him to, of course. The things I swept off my desk. The glass stand for the globe on the floor. He goes to that and lifts it, hefting it in his palm before setting it on my dresser. He rights the papers, flipping through them before shuffling them into a neat stack and leaving them on the edge of my desk.

“I don’t think your burglar did this.” He continues straightening, so much so that I wonder if he has a compulsion to do so. He puts my texts in a pile from largest to smallest and adds it to my desk. Then he gets on his knees and reaches under my bed.

When he rises, he tosses me the ball of glass that rolled away last night.

The miniature globe.

I catch it and look down. More blue has come off, revealing murky, raised lines meant to be valleys and peaks. The world in three dimensions. She used to spin it idly at night. She said she didn’t think she’d ever get the opportunity to see the world, and this was as good as it was going to get for her.

“Something important to you?”

I shake my head and set it down beside the stand. I intentionally step away from it—and, in fact, him. No need to give him any more ideas about me.

What I do want to do is ask him where he slept. Why he didn’t push the issue.

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