Page 65 of Endless Obsession

I imagine Charlotte between my legs as I feed my cock into her pretty mouth, cooing at me that she just wants to make me feel good as I lay back. Obeying my every demand as I wrap my hand in her thick, soft, dark hair, sucking me off until I fill her mouth with my cum.

“Fuck!” I growl aloud as my cock explodes, sticky heat coating my fingers as I come in what feels like record time. At this rate, I think grimly as I fumble for a tissue on the nightstand, I’m going to need to jerk off a couple times before our date just so I don’t come in my pants the first time I kiss her, like a fucking teenager.

If I still get a chance for that date. Charlotte is clearly in her take no bullshit era when it comes to men, and I can’t blame her. Her ex fucked her over in a way that no man should ever treat a woman, and between not telling her about the gala and then missing the date, the rational part of me says that she should tell me to fuck off.

But the part of me that’s entirely, wholly obsessed with her refuses to allow that to be a possibility.

My phone goes off next to me, just as I’m finishing cleaning up and tucking myself back into my sweatpants, and I reach over for it, groaning as every movement sends pain rocketing through my body. When I look at the screen, I see red.

The tracker that I put into her phone when I gave her my number, the one that allows me to see her phone activity, is coming in handy. Because I can see that she downloaded a dating app—and that she has messages from no fewer than ten guys this morning, all wanting to find a time when they can meet up.

And three of them she’s actually messaged back.

I grit my teeth so hard I’m worried they might crack, cursing my father and his bullshit under my breath as I force myself to sit up despite the pain in my ribs. If I’d made it to that date with her yesterday, this wouldn’t be happening. She’d still be thinking about me, not talking to Joshua, Bryce, and Rick.

All stupid fucking names. All men that I don’t intend to let within speaking distance of her. There’s no way she’s going out with any of them.

I set the phone down, breathing sharply as I try to think. She hasn’t set anything up with any of them yet, so there’s nothing I can do. Not yet.

I let out another sharp hiss of frustration as I run a hand through my hair, feeling utterly helpless. I don’t want to lose her, but the circumstances are working against me, and I can feel her slipping out of my grasp before I’ve even really had a chance to try to make her mine.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I can hear the rational part of me murmuring that that should remind me of why she and I aren’t meant for each other. Why this can only end with someone getting hurt—her, or me, or both of us.

That if I really cared about her, I’d let her go.

But I can’t. And I’m far past being rational when it comes to Charlotte.

—

By Wednesday, she still hasn’t texted me back about rescheduling. And I can see that she’s still talking to Joshua, a reasonably handsome man working in finance who wants to take her out for coffee Saturday morning.

Like hell, is all I can think as I look at the string of messages, pacing back and forth through my house. I haven’t left since I came home on Saturday, and while I like being home, being here like this feels more like confinement than choice.

It gives me plenty of time to formulate a plan for how to foil Charlotte and Joshua’s date, though.

Saturday morning, I dress nicely, putting on jeans and a long-sleeved dark blue henley. I drive my Mustang into the city, parking a few blocks from where I know Charlotte is meeting Joshua for coffee, and walk briskly to the cafe, knowing from the messages that he told her he’d get there a little early to get a table for them. I also know she’s running late—some issue with her blow dryer dying.

I see Joshua the minute I walk into the coffee shop. He’s sitting a little ways towards the back at a small table, a cup of coffee already in front of him, scrolling through his phone. Without missing a beat, I sit down across from him, and he looks up sharply. There’s a smile on his face in the instant that he thinks it’s going to be Charlotte sitting down, and then it drops just as quickly when he sees me.

“I’m sorry,” he says crisply. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested. And I have a date meeting me here, so?—”

“Your date is why I’m here,” I tell him flatly. His eyes are roving over my face, taking in the purple and yellow bruises, the still-healing cuts, and the half-swollen eye. I can see his mind spinning, trying to figure out if there’s some connection between Charlotte and how I look, and the panic just behind it. Joshua isn’t the kind of man who handles violence well, I can see that from the way he’s slightly green just looking at my injuries.

“Nothing to do with all this,” I tell him cheerfully. “Just a little mishap, that’s all. But Charlotte and I are just having a little disagreement. We haven’t made up yet, and I know she’s getting back at me by going on this date. So what you’re going to do, rather than insert yourself in the middle of it, is get up and leave, right now. Quick as you can, before she shows up and can see you. And to sweeten the deal—” I slip a roll of bills out of my pocket, nudging it across the table to him. “There’s five grand there. Cash. Now I know you’re worth a good bit more than that, but five grand is five grand, isn’t it? Surely you’re not so flush that you can’t appreciate that amount still.”

Joshua’s eyebrows have risen nearly to his hairline. “I don’t know what this is,” he splutters, red spots appearing on his cheekbones. I fight back a chuckle, because I can already see where this is going. I’ve seen it before, with men I’ve tortured. Joshua’s pride has come out to play, and he’s going to try to make a stand—going to try to convince me that he’s a bigger man than I am.

Unfortunately, I already know that’s not the case.

“This is me telling you to get the fuck out of this coffee shop and take the bribe.” I give him a cold smile. “I don’t want to resort to threats, Joshua. But Charlotte will be here soon, so if you want the money, I suggest you take it and leave.”

“Or what?” His bluster is in full force now, his voice low, but he’s glaring at me as if he really thinks this is a fight he can win.

“Joshua, I can go home right now, and in twenty minutes, every one of your accounts will be drained.” The cold, pleasant smile is still fixed on my face; if anyone looked over, they’d think we were just talking business. “I don’t have to lay a finger on you to hurt you. I could take every cent you have, hack into your car loan, and set it to repossession, plant a fake arrest warrant that would take days and an expensive lawyer for you to sort through, and get it tossed out. I can ruin your life with a few keystrokes, Josh. So I suggest you go. She’s not worth it.”

That last is the first lie I’ve told him. Charlotte is worth it. She’s worth all of it and more, and I feel more certain of that than I have of anything in a very long time. But Joshua doesn’t know that yet, and if I have my way, he never will.

For one brief second, I think he’s going to keep arguing. And then he looks at me—and whatever he sees in my face, he seems to understand that I’m not lying or bluffing.