Page 26 of The Obsession
“Thanks,” I grumble, trying to ignore the quiet thrill that comes from Emily taking care of me. It’s not something I’m used to, and I’m not sure I know what to do with it.
A soft smile curves her mouth, and when my attention is drawn back to the cut on her bottom lip, the rage I’ve been fighting to keep at bay since I first entered this place rushes back to the surface.
I don’t even know what drew me here tonight, becauseI’ve been trying to stay away. Maybe I was meant to come here for this very reason.
Setting the spoon down beside the bowl, I reach into my jeans pocket. My fingers brush against her caramel-scented Chapstick before finding the crumpled receipt from when I filled up the car on the way here.
“You got a pen I could borrow?” I ask, flattening the piece of paper against the wooden tabletop.
She hesitates for a moment before reaching into the front pocket of her apron and pulling out a black plastic pen.
I scribble my number on the receipt, fold it in half, and hand it back to her along with the pen. “My number … in case you ever need it.”
A pink blush crawls up her neck as she nervously shifts from foot to foot. “Oh … I, umm … have a boyfriend.”
I clear my throat and reach for the spoon again, forcing myself not to react. “I’m not asking you on a date, Emily,” I growl. “But if someone’s hurting you, and you want it to stop, call me.”
Emily stills, her usual spark dimming for a second as she gives a small, almost reluctant nod.
I’m currently lying in bed with my hands folded behind my head, staring up at the ceiling, because I can’t fucking sleep. I feel like an idiot for giving Emily my number. There was no way I was going to tell her I had flashbacks of my mother lying facedown in the pool when I saw the cut on her lip.
Part of me wondered if she’d get the wrong idea, but my conscience—what little I have—wouldn’t let me leave that restaurant without giving it to her just in case.
I’ve seen that dick on the bike pick her up from work,and now that she’s confirmed she has a boyfriend, I can only assume he’s the one who’s leaving marks on her. Because if it’s not him, why the fuck isn’t he putting a stop to it?
I blindly reach for my bedside table, feeling around for that plastic little cylinder that seems to go with me everywhere these days. My fingers close around it as a quiet breath slips past my lips. It’s Emily’s Chapstick, the one she dropped at the restaurant months ago. I told myself I’d give it back, but I never did.
I turn the Chapstick over in my hand as my thumb traces the faded label and the small crack in the cap. For a second, I almost feel guilty, like she might know I have it. But there’s something about this stupid thing that anchors me when my dark parts won’t seem to calm.
I pop the lid off and bring it to my nose before I can talk myself out of it. The scent pulls at something in my chest that I don’t have words for. I let my mind wander—just for a heartbeat—wondering if those pillowy fucking lips of hers taste the same, and if that sweetness would linger.
That thought has my cock hardening in my boxers. I reach down and give my dick an angry squeeze. It feels sick and depraved fantasising about another man’s woman, even if that fucker doesn’t deserve her.
No matter how hard I try to will my cock to go down, nothing works. It throbs … it aches. Jesus, I need to get laid. This woman is sending me around the bend.
It’s been a long while since I’ve been with anyone, but that’s by choice. I knew what I was signing up for when I took this on. There’s no chance I’m giving up a night with my niece for some random hookup.
I cap the Chapstick and drop it back onto the bedside table before tossing back the covers in frustration. If I have any chance of getting sleep tonight, I’m going to need to get rid of this boner first.
Slipping into the bathroom, I lock the door behind meand hook my thumbs into the waistband of my boxers and tug them down my legs.
I lean in the shower recess, switch the water to hot, and step inside, letting the spray run over my body as I prepare myself for an unapologetic, no-holds-barred jerkoff.
Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time Emily and I have showered together, well, in my mind anyway, and believe me when I say I know how fucked up that sounds.
She’s frequently bathed with me since this stupid obsession started, and I’m going to blame it on my dry spell, but deep down, I know that’s a lie.
I don’t even know what it is about this woman that draws me in. I was around beauties all the time when I worked at the club, but nobody has ever captured my attention like Emily has.
As the steam fills the room, I wrap my hand tightly around the base of my cock. Images of Emily’s perfect lace-covered tits in that sexy white bra I got a small glimpse of tonight when she bent over to pick up a crayon Peach dropped on the floor, enters my mind.
I pump some body wash into my hand and clench my eyes closed with a groan as I start to move my hand up and down my dick in short, languid strokes.
Her beautiful blue eyes lock on mine while I imagine her freeing those golden locks of long hair from the confines of her bun before dropping her hand to unclasp her bra, releasing her perky breasts from their lacy prison.
She grins up at me, with that same soft smile that gets me every-fucking-time. It’s a look that calls to something deep inside. It makes me want to wrap her in my arms and protect her from all the ugliness in the world.
Her fingers slip underneath the straps of her bra as she seductively moves each one down her arm until it falls from her body and drops to the floor by her feet, an exotic striptease at its finest.
