Page 43 of Twisted Obsession

“Yeah, keep doing that.”

I do. And I shift on my knees because this is doing things to my body. I’m acutely aware of the swing of my breasts with every move of my arms, and the sensation between my legs.

“Melody,” he warns. “Slow down. I’m going to come—”

“Good,” I whisper, keeping my pace even. Because the faster I finish this, the sooner I can rush back to my room and take care of my own business.

“Fuck,” Jacob groans. His cock pulses, and suddenly a rope of cum shoots from his cock. It lands on his chest. And then another on his stomach, across his twelve-pack of abs. Just kidding, he only has an eight-pack. I don’t even think twelve is possible. But if it was, he’d have it.

His abdomen flexes, and my grip on his cock loosens. Holy shit. I just gave him a hand job. In his bedroom. While he’s completely naked.

Ijustmoved in, and now he’s going to kick me out. I bolt to my feet and flee before the awkwardness sets in. It isn’t until I get back to my room and spot the open closet that I remember why I went into his room in the first place.

16

JACOB

Ilap at Melody’s clit. Her legs are hooked over my shoulders, my face buried in her cunt. Just the way I like it.

She’s asleep. Forced asleep. She didn’t object to the after-dinner cocktail I made her, although she didn’t know about the sleeping pill mixed into it to ensure that she doesn’t wake up.

I finger-fuck her to the edge, until she’s about to come, and stop. I stop everything. I pull back and watch her pussy, her muscles clenching and releasing like it’ll help with the aching agony.

It won’t.

Her hands on my cock this morning was unbearable in the best way. How do I tell her that she’s done that before? That she’s stroked me before, guiding my cock to her entrance. That she’s looked at me with all the need in the world—and it still wasn’t enough to satiate us.

A body like hers deserves to be worshiped, and I’m more than happy to say my prayers at her altar.

I lean in and resume my ministrations. Licking and sucking until her clit is swollen and red, just like my cock head straining against my sweatpants. Backing off when it’s too much. I could spend hours doing this. Tasting her body, taking her to the edge and driving her wild.

She might be dreaming of me.

She might blame her horniness, when she wakes, on the dreams.

I’ll take immense pleasure in driving her mad with want. Until the look on her face from earlier, her barely concealed desire as she jerked me off, is permanently etched in her features. Until she wants to be in my bed willingly.

My songbird makes a beautiful noise, and I move away from her clit. I kiss up her pale stomach, over the stretch marks that she tries to hide when she’s awake, to the swell of her tits. I flick my tongue against her stiff little nipple.

I missed her and I hate her and I’m obsessed with her.

This is torture.

Finally, when I can’t take it anymore, I back off. I jerk off over her, catching my release in her panties. Then I right her clothes, pull the blanket up over her, and exit her room like it never happened.

When I finally fall asleep, I dream of the past.

“I’m going to keep you, Melody Cameron.” She’s buried under my skin. More than a fascination. And once I admit it out loud, it solidifies. It becomes my truth.

“I’m not keepable.”

Not a word. An action.

She wants to leave after that. She gets in my car, and I drive her home, watching as she walks up the front steps and closes herself in her house.

I go home. I’m smiling, thinking to myself that this is the start of something new. An obsession that won’t end badly. I love hockey, and I could love Melody Cameron, too. Because it’s more than just her body. It’s her personality, her banter.

But the next day, I don’t hear from her.

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