Page 63 of Driving My Obsession

She tosses the mug to the floor and presses the back of her hand to her mouth as she paces in front of her lecherous boss. This would be the sappy moment in a movie when the heroine chooses to walk away instead of sinking to the villain’s level. I never liked those endings. I wanted the revenge. I wanted the depravity. But what does Oaklyn want?

She stops pacing and stares at the man in the chair. Her eyes close, and her fingers move to the slender scab on her lip. Taking a deep breath, she opens her eyes and steps toward him. With her teeth bared, she leans into his face.

“Fuck you, Jake!” She harnesses a feral scream, lifts her leg, and stomps down on Jake’s dick with her high-heeled foot. I feel the strength behind her kick through my own dick and zip up my shit so it doesn’t have to bear witness to any more of this.

Her boss strains forward, and before I can stop her, she stomps down on his crotch again. And again. She lets out a whole lot of anger on that man’s genitals.

I couldn’t be more proud.

Now that we’ve really gotten the ball rolling, it’s my turn to play. I can’t let her have all the fun. “Give me one of your heels,” I say, motioning toward her feet.

She slips one off and hands it to me, then tries to avoid stepping onto the sticky club floor with her bare foot.

“What are you—” she begins, but her sentence stops when I place the pointed tip of the heel against his eye socket and push until it gives way.

A desperate scream rushes from behind the fabric in his mouth, and the sheer force almost allows the words to come through unmuffled. Blood spreads around the clear heel and drips down his face as he continues to writhe in unbelievably delicious torment. I pull the heel from his deflated eyeball and motion for Oaklyn to hand over her other shoe, but she’s gone.

I look around the empty club and a slight panic takes hold when I worry this was too much for her. Curb stomping his nuts into oblivion was okay, but maybe cramming the heel of her shoe into his eyeball was too far. Just when I turn to finish the job myself, she appears from the back of the club, wearing her shorts and clutching something in her hand. She’s traded the lone heel for her sneakers, and the lingerie bag dangles from her arm.

“I really didn’t want to stand on this filthy floor,” she says as she slides her shirt over her bare torso. “Plus, I had one more thing I wanted to do.”

She steps closer to her panting boss, then opens her fist. A single acorn wobbles around on her palm. With a sadistic grin that almost hardens me again, she grips the acorn between her fingers and shoves it into the gaping eye socket. Her thumb pushes it as deep as it will go.

After releasing a weak groan, her boss finally passes out from the pain. Or shock is taking over. Either way, I don’t give a fuck. He doesn’t need to be awake for this next part, though it would have been nice.

I walk to the bar and grab two bottles of the highest proof liquor I can find, then return to the chair in front of the stage. I hand one to Oaklyn, and we work together to douse him. I pour it on the floor around him, pull a book of matches from my pocket, and light one. I hand it to Oaklyn. This is her party, and she’s the guest of honor. Without a second thought, she flicks it to the ground and it combusts. Flames overtake the carpet and engulf Jake’s body before crawling away to attack the rest of the building.

“Burn the shoes. You’ll never need them again,” I say.

She pulls the heel from the bag, grabs its mate, and tosses them beneath the flaming chair. The plastic melts in front of our eyes.

Smoke begins to gather against the ceiling. We have to get out of here before someone reports it. I grab her hand and we run for the back door. Before we step into public view, I peer outside to ensure no one will see us leave. I already checked the outside for cameras this morning, and none of the nearby businesses have any that aim toward this parking lot. Finding no one outside, I grip her hand in mine and we bolt for the Jeep.

Once we’re inside the vehicle, I use the back exit to pull onto the street, then circle around to park at the nearby gas station so we can get a better look at our handiwork. As the fire overpowers the club, the bright flames dance in her wide, fearful eyes. She doesn’t see what I see, though. Watching fire consume the club where my mother once worked is vindicating. Her tortured soul dances above the fire, sexy and sultry, until her damned spirit releases a howl as it’s consumed and rendered to ash.

I look over at Oaklyn. The orange hues burn through the green of her irises, and I think it might be a little vindicating for her too. Bittersweet, I’m sure.

In the end, I didn’t kill Oaklyn, and I didn’t get the vengeance I planned, but destroying Jake and burning the club still felt good. It still feels like revenge. And that’s good enough for me.

ChapterThirty-Six

Oaklyn

As I lie in bed beside Ambrose, every breath I take tastes like the choking scent of the club mixed with cleansing fire. I turn onto my side and look at the man who killed my boss. The man who very nearly killedme. I’m now witness to one and a half homicides—me being the half. My mouth waters at the memory of how he looked today. How his thick muscles flexed. How he could have ended me...but didn’t.

When I close my eyes, the flames dance in my mind. It’s euphoric. But it’s also a little sad. Despite all the pain that building caused me, it was all I had. In the toss of a match, my only source of income is gone. And what about Ambrose? He hired a couple of hitmen to take out his boss, so how will he support us now? It’s not like I can be a big help. Even if another club existed in this town, it’s not like I could dance there. Ambrose wouldn’t want me to, but I wouldn’t want to either. I still want to dance, but I don’t think stripping is for me anymore. One man’s obsession is about all I can handle.

I reach toward Ambrose’s face and trace the many scars that line his strong jaw. So much pain etched into his handsome features. He’s a fractured demigod walking the earth alongside someone so downtrodden and tired.

Alongside me.

He doesn’t stir as my fingertips graze the imperfections running along his neck and bare shoulders. I can see which cuts were the deepest and which were shallow and hurried. Some aimed to kill, while others meant to maim. I can’t help but wonder how much he remembers of the incident. If he recalls any of the pain, it’s probably not from the actual incident but the aftermath of it. The pain of looking at himself in the mirror and being reminded that he’s different. That he’s half dead because he’s only half alive. But if you put us together, we make a whole.

This new life I’ve chosen won’t be easy. It doesn’t fix the rift between me and my family, but I’m okay with that. If my mother couldn’t love me because I chased a dream, she never loved me to begin with. All I’ve ever needed was someone in my corner, and Ambrose has taken that position to heart. Now, he’s all I need.

* * *

Ambrose

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