Page 9 of His Obsession

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I turned my shower on full red. I walked to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of wine. It was one of my favorites, bubbly and sweet. The bubbles danced on my burned tongue, causing me to wince. Taking a big gulp, I refilled my glass and walked into the hot, steamy bathroom. I placed my drink on the counter and let my silk robe slide down my body. The scalding water rolled down my back, provoking a groan. The tension in my muscles releasing, making my shoulders sag. My skin was red as a lobster. I hung my head under the falling water and soaked my hair. I scrubbed strawberry-scented shampoo into my scalp until suds streamed down my body.

After shaving, I turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping a towel around my dripping wet body. I wandered to my closet and pulled out a navy-blue pencil skirt and pink blouse with nude flats. Sipping my wine, I snapped the material and laid it on the chair. Removing my towel, I bent over to dry my hair when I heard a loud thump coming from the living room.

“Lucy, are you home?” I shouted. The hairs raised on the back of my neck.

Maybe she forgot something and got a ride back? I took the towel from my hair and wrapped it around my body before walking cautiously towards the living room. Passing the kitchen, I noticed my new bottle of wine lying on the rug pouring on to the floor.

“Awe, man!” I groaned.

Once I finished resisting the urge to slurp my wine up from the floor, I took the towel off and cleaned up the mess. Picking up the rug, I rang it out in the kitchen sink. I’d take care of it later. I ran a comb through my long hair, put it in a loose braid, then climbed into bed. I needed to get at least some sleep before picking up Lucy.

Aspot of dark dried blood just above my cuff link kept grabbing my attention. The uneven brown circle clashed against my expensive pristine white shirt. I hated this part, the cleanup, the aftermath. I never enjoyed getting blood on my clothes, but then again, who did?

Cray Donovan was the proverbial thorn in my side. It wouldn’t have happened if he had done his job, if he would have just done what I’d told him to. He challenged me in front of Tonk and Jake.

Challenging me at any point in time would have earned him severe repercussions. I ruled my life with organization and precision. If there was one thing that annoyed me, it was disobedience. I didn’t intend to stab him with my pen. It became a weapon of convenience. My temper got the better of me, and that didn’t happen often. Although, it seemed to be more of a common occurrence than I would like to admit recently. The rage, not the stabbing.

It wasn’t how I expected my first interaction to go with Liz, but what could I do now? I glimpsed her face when I stormed out of that room, and she looked startled. After I had checked the area for the PEN testing, I saw her again in the elevator. Her friend Lucy would be embarrassing to have around. The mortification on her face was priceless when she found out we could see her texts.

I walked into my sizable master closet and meticulously placed the cuff links into their designated drawer. This drawer hosted a slew of other cuff links, the one below that was an absurd number of watches that sat in their velvet holders. I put everything in a precise location, organized by brand name or color. I pulled my suit jacket off my shoulders, followed by the stained dress shirt, and threw them into the laundry bin. I sat on the cushioned bench, untied my shoes, and placed them in their assigned space, wiping a speck off the shiny tip. Shucking my pants down my hips, I threw them in with the shirt and jacket and dressed in a new dark-blue tee with matching pants; I took from the hangers.

I snatched my keys and phone from the antique bowl, placed them in my pocket, and opened the door to my safe. My Glock 36 hung from its barrel, safely tucked inside. The matte-black metal was cold against the palm of my hand. It was the perfect, deadly size for concealment. The small Sig I reserved for visiting the office sat on the shelf, waiting for me to put it away in its resting space inside the safe. An exquisite example of just how “controlled” my temper had been. I stuck my Glock in the holster, attached it to my belt, and placed it at my back. Before spinning the lock on the safe, I put the Sig on its hook, admiring my vast collection of weapons. I shot a text to Tonk as I hopped down the stairs, with a new pep in my step, to the garage hosting my Audi A7. The engine roared to life, and I screamed down the road off to see my girl.

I parked my car in the dark of night, two blocks from my target location. It ensured I could get in and out without my vehicle being seen and identified. My phone sent vibrating ripples down my pants pocket; I cupped the cell, checking my message. The obnoxious glow from the screen illuminated my face.

Tonk: Are you done yet?

Me: What do you think?

Tonk: She’s messing with your head.

What the fuck did he know, anyway? I tucked it safely back into my pocket and continued walking up to the small brown-bricked, two-story home with yellow flowers in the planter box. I kept to the shadows; I didn’t need that pesky old lady noticing me and blowing my cover. I took a quick look around, making sure she was inside. She rarely sat outside so late at night, but I never wanted to assume she would keep her routine.

Complacency equals carelessness and getting thrown in jail or worse. I scanned the surrounding area for prying eyes and put the key in the door. Once I felt comfortable that the coast was clear, I turned the cold brass knob painstakingly slow, making sure no noise would come from it, and stepped inside the dark house.

The quaint home was tidy from what I could see in the minuscule amount of light and smelled of her friend’s perfume. I didn’t care for her friend much. She was always encouragingmy girlto find dick and party.

“Date his guy. It’s just a one-night stand. Let’s go party, I need to get drunk.”Her obnoxious words replayed in my head.

That wasn’t howmy girlwas. She had her moments, though. She would give in to the copious amount of temptations thrown in her direction, and I was always there to make sure she came out on top. I wouldn’t allow her to screw up her life, she was doing so well. She was in an auspicious place, one I hadn’t seen her in for a while. Except for today, I might have ruined her day. I didn’t work well with provocation. Consider it one of my many character flaws.

I glid across her wood floor, taking calculated steps to avoid the creaky spots. I’d been here so often I had it memorized. I could run out of here and never make a sound. I would know, I’d done it before.

It was one of the scarier moments since watching her. I could still recall my heart leaping from my chest as she sat straight up in bed, looked around the room, mumbled some bat shit incoherent sentences, then plopped back on her pillow… out cold. It took me a while to catch my breath after that.

Her room sat at the far back of her home with an en-suite and a half bath across the hall. I could hear her slow, even breaths coming from her comatose body as I turned the corner. My blonde-haired beauty slept on her belly, with her naked ass partially covered by the sheets, her slim leg enticing me to spread them. My pants tightened as my cock swelled, forming an uncomfortable bulge.

Call me acreepall you want—I couldn’t help myself, couldn’t resist touching her. I slinked to her bedside, reaching out, and I let my fingertips caress her skin with the lightest touch—her skin silky smooth. I watched the goose flesh trail down her arm as a moan abandoned her lips. Oh, what I would give right now to hear her scream for me. I wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation much longer. I wanted to wrap my hands in her hair, put my cock between her lips, and watch her take it all. The fantasy didn’t help the undeniable development of blue balls.

I gathered the end of her braid off her back, brought it to my nose, and inhaled her scent. The smell of artificial strawberries filled my nostrils, overwhelming my senses. I held back a groan and palmed my cock through my pants.

I never jerked off to her. Butthere is a first time for everything,as the saying goes. I gingerly placed her hair down and stepped away, putting my feet in the correct place. I felt like Indiana Jones, if I took one wrong step, the jig was up, and I’d be screwed. I wouldn’t have such a final ending, but the outcome wouldn’t be worth it. I needed my stolen moments with her. It kept me sane; it kept me patient; it kept me feeling alive. If I was in jail… there is no telling how crazy I’d go without her.

I put the key in the deadbolt, locking it behind me as if I was never here, and slunk away in the dark to my car, nursing a swollen cock and aching balls.

I sunk into my leather seats, unzipped my pants, and fisted my cock. Salacious thoughts provoked a twitch from my dick. It was pleading for release. I shook my head, clearing the thoughts and gaining the control I was steadily losing. I banged my head against the headrest and put my dick back in its place. The temptation was a bitch, always bringing me to war with myself. I pressed the call button on the car and gave the command to “call Tonk.” Loud ringing pierced the silence, taking me out of my selfish world of arousal.