Page 128 of Quiet Obsession
My eyes close, sleep creeping in, the constant mental arithmetic wearing me down, but my ears perk up whenthe door to my room glides open.
A rush of heat fills me up, relief rattling my ribcage. She closes the door quickly, her long blonde hair haloing her pretty face, those hazel-blues as distracting as always.
She doesn’t say a word and neither do I, our need for each other palpable. She turns the lock and rushes across the room in an oversized dusty pink sweater.
It’s a color I associate only with Millie now.
Her legs are bare save for knee-high socks. They’re plain white but fucking obscenely erotic and my cock juts beneath my boxers. Her knees dent the mattress and she’s on me, hot pussy settling directly over my waking cock.
“Need you,” she whispers, closing my lips with hers.
If only she knew how much I fucking need her back.
We’ve done this a few times now, so I know that when she comes to me like this, a little frantic, a little desperate, the day’s worn her down and she needs me to switch her head off.
It seems I’m good at that. I can center her without ever asking for directions because her body’s loud and I fucking listen.
I pull her in by the back of the neck, deepening the kiss, her hips rolling against me in response. She tastes like toothpaste, her own brand of sweetness underneath. That sweetness that ruins me every time.
She sucks my lip then bites the way I always do, and that’s my cue. I flip her onto her back, nestling between her thighs as her hands fly to my shoulders.
“You had a bad day, baby?” I ask against her mouth.
“Yes.”
I shift, grinding my cock into her. She’s soaked, the fabric covering her pussy making a mess of my boxers.
“You want me to fuck it out of you?”
“Yes, please,” she gasps, her fingers curling tighter around my shoulders, nails biting into the muscles.
“Such a good girl.”
The oversized pink sweater is bunched around her ribs, exposing more skin. She’s already flushed and trembling beneath me, ready for whatever I decide to give.
Reaching between us, I rip her panties off, the tearing lace leaving red marks over her hip.
“How bad was it?” I ask, dragging my mouth down her throat as I free my cock. “One orgasm bad or—”
“Three,” she cuts in, a hint of challenge in her tone like that hasn’t happened before.
Moving one hand to her throat, I control her breathing as I coat my aching, leaking crown in her arousal, teeth grazing her pulse point before I suck hard enough to leave marks.
She never complains about them, hiding every visible hickey under concealer. I both love and fucking hate that.
A part of me wants her to show them off, show every guy who salivates over her that she’s not available. A different part of me, the one that’s trying to earn her brother’s approval, doesn’t want the world to see.
“Eli...” she breathes, cheeks pink, lips parted to pulldown air while my fingers squeeze a little harder.
I oblige, thrusting in and bottoming out. Her eyes roll back into her head and her body melts as if my cock is all she needs to forget whatever chaos brought her here.
“I’m here, baby. I’ll make it better.” I settle into a rhythm, every snap of my hips jutting her up the bed. “Eyes on me.”
She obeys and there’s something fucking sacred in that submissive side that’s just mine. She fights her trauma, her past, her own fucking head, but when she’s with me, she can...let go.
I pause inside her long enough to sit back and take her sweater off. She’s bare from her knees up, those knee-high socks adding ten points to how sexy she looks.
Every time she’s naked beneath me feels like that first time in the gym, and every time, I want to fix that moment. Take her slowly, kiss her sweetly, savor the moment, but Millie won’t take that. She wants to be wrecked...
