Page 45 of His Obsession

My eyes lit up, and I clapped my hands. “You’re speaking my language today, Alek,” I said, walking inside. “I’m going to get changed.”

“No rush. I have to order it.”

I wiped my makeup off, gently avoiding my cheek, and instantly regretted it. My cheek looked horrid. Every time I saw it, it was a sobering reminder of what he did to me and the choice that man told me to make.

I prayed that I never had to make that choice, but I already knew what I’d say. I don’t think Alek would ever forgive me.

That asshole hadn’t shown his face since he escaped prison, and now he wanted to show up? I was hoping he would have crawled into some hole and died off alone like he deserved. He should be dead by now—they set his sentence to expire by lethal injection a year and a half ago. I waited half my life to watch him get the needle, and when I found out he escaped, I felt robbed. Then, I felt as if a window had opened, and a new opportunity arose until Jake couldn’t pull a trail on him. I should have been more aggressive in finding the self-proclaimed schizoid.

When he called me today, I thought things might swing more so in my favor, but Jake couldn’t get a location on him again. I felt so agitated and frayed, I just needed to hold her. I wasn’t intending on it going as far as it did in my office.

Then, after my conversation with Becca, I had to deal with my informant at the police department talking about the “drug deal gone bad with a rival MC,” as he called it.

I had to muffle a chuckle when he told me that was the route they were heading with the investigation. What gang does business with a rival? Alvarez never ran drugs. I never understood why. I would tell him repeatedly that there was more money made with drugs than guns. Drugs and bullets always ran out, and people were desperate to get their hands on it; you’d always have an income. He would refuse and would stick to the guns. Fine by me.

I found the closest sushi bar and put an order in for delivery. Tonk and Jake would be here later tonight—Liz wasn’t the only one who enjoyed the Japanese cuisine. In the meantime, I had some frustrations to work off.

Stripping off my suit, I put on a pair of sweats and pulled on my boxing gloves. I shook out my arms and put my elbows up, practicing my hard hits against the punching bag. Thoughts of war fueled me as I beat the shit out of my bag. I pictured the old man as the sack of sand before me, and I hit it until I saw him bloody and broken, begging for the mercy I’d never give. I was in the zone. I barely noticed the sexy blonde walking into my room in nothing but short shorts and a tank top, with her nipples pebbled against the thin material.

“You have some anger issues you trying to work out?” she said, loud enough for me to hear over the hits my fists made against the leather.

Once I took in the view of her body, my frustrations returned, but it wasn’t anger. Having her live in my house was chafing my dick. My chest was heaving as she stepped towards me, my mind thinking of all the dirty things I wanted to do to her tight body.

A bead of sweat rolled down my face, and she wiped it away with the tips of her fingers. “What are you doing?” I asked, pulling the tab on my gloves to free my hand. The annoying sound of Velcro filled the now tense room.

“I’m hungry,” she said as she chewed on her bottom lip.

Why did I have a feeling that was a loaded statement?

Releasing my hand from the other glove, she stood on her toes and pressed her lips to mine. Her tongue teased my lips while her fingers touched a deep scar on my chest.

“I can fix that,” I growled.

I tossed my gloves to the floor and crushed my lips to hers, ready to pound into her wherever we landed. I put my hands on her waist and walked her backward, the backs of her knees hitting the bed, forcing her to sit. She bit her plush lips as she dragged her nails down my hips, removing my sweats and allowing my cock to spring free. She licked her lips, and I could read her mind as if it were my super-power.

Before she could act, I pushed her back to the bed and parted her thighs, pressing my aching cock against her. The feel of her soft skin against my hands and the silky strands of her hair were enough to drive any man wild.

I tore her hair from her bun and twisted it around my fist. She tilted her face when I pulled her hair and claimed her supple lips. I had waited for this moment for so long, and now that I finally had her beneath me willingly, I wouldn’t be able to let her go.

Liz ripped her nails down my back, the sharp sting like razor blades across my skin. I ground my hips against her core and growled my pain into her neck. Her moans spurred me on as I tugged at her shorts, grabbing the lacy thong along with them, and threw it to the floor.

“I’m not gentle,” I said, bunching my fingers into her hair. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I was giving her the chance to run now because I didn’t think I’d be able to stop once I had her. She was my heroin, and I was addicted. No amount of rehab could fix me.

She gave me a nod.

“Say it, Liz, say you’re okay with that,” I demanded. I needed her to tell me she wanted this, needed this as much as I did, as much as I could see in her hooded eyes, her swollen lips, and her flushed skin.

“Yes, Alek.Please!”

That was it. It was all I needed before I buried my teeth in her neck, staking my claim, making her cry out. She enjoyed the pain and the pleasure that followed. Her hips bucked against mine, begging me for more. I grabbed her shirt collar and tore it straight down the middle, exposing her full chest.

Her pert, pink nipples stood at attention, waiting for me to take them. I filled my hands with her breasts, each one overflowing, and bit down on her nipple, pulling it taut between my teeth. Her sweet whimpers and gasps filled the room like a song I didn’t want to get out of my head.

I needed more, my cravings took over, I was losing control. I placed her knees over my shoulder and positioned my cock at her entrance, her pussy heated my swollen head.

My hands gripped her shoulders, folding her in half, and I slammed into her. Her warm body tightened around my hard length as I pumped in and out, her screams fueling the fire inside me. But even though I was being fed what I needed, it was not enough. It’d never be enough—I wanted to have all of her. I watched as she raked her fingers through her hair and cried out with the pleasure and pain that overlapped her features.

I pulled out and yanked her hips to the edge of the bed, keeping her feet in the air, and wrapped my arms around her thighs, crashing into her again—renewing her generous screams for my ears. Her long golden hair spread out, wild on the bed, like a banshee waiting for her next victim. My beautiful Helen of Troy, my Salome, what was I to do with you now?