Page 22 of Unhinged Obsession

He nods as I sit up, his hands moving to my hips to situate me directly on his hard cock. I can feel my face flushing as he lifts his hips up slightly, pushing against my bare pussy, letting me know exactly what he wants.

He pushes up to a sitting position so he’s taller than me now. He brushes his mouth against mine so softly that it doesn’t feel like we’ve actually touched. “I’m not going to push you, or force you to tell me until you’re ready,” he says, sliding his big hands up my sides and even further to cup my breasts. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he says, distracted as he pulls on my nipples, sending tingles directly to the apex of my thighs.

“If I tell you what happened to me, it’ll only get you worked up,” I tell him, and he frowns, pouting his full lips at me. “I’m okay. I’m here with you, and we’ll figure everything out. First the Choosing ceremony, and then we need to figure out who knows about…” I trail off because I don’t want to say the words out loud about what happened to Jonathan.

“You’ll tell me eventually, and I’m going to kill every single person who had a hand in those scars,” he says, looking directly into my eyes so I know how serious he is. I can see the anguish in his eyes when he says, “I’ll never forgive myself for not protecting you. I hope you know that.” I can feel his guilt in my gut, twisting and painful.

I lean forward and kiss his mouth softly, whispering against his lips, “But I do, and I need you to know that.” I rock my hips against him because I want to lighten this conversation. We can’t take back what happened, and honestly, I just want to forget everything except this man in front of me.

Elijah lifts his hoodie off of me in one swift motion. Instinctively, I try to cover myself, and he lazily grins at me, moving my hand away from my pussy and breasts. “Don’t cover what’s mine, little dove. I’ve seen every inch of you, and I’ll never get tired of exploring your perfect body.”

He leans forward, placing kisses on my neck and collarbones where the healed scars pepper my skin. They used electro-shock therapy on me at Onyx Dominion, but I fought them so hard that they had to restrain me, which cut my skin, leaving me with scars to remember their abuse.

Elijah’s mouth finds my nipple, and he pulls it into his mouth and sucks while his fingers find my clit. He flicks his tongue against my sensitive bud before telling me, “I can’t wait to do this after I breed you, when your tits are swollen with milk.”

I rock my hips, his finger hitting my clit in just the right spot, and suddenly I’m breathless for Elijah Moretti once again. “I want you,” I tell him.

He sucks on my other nipple roughly, cupping my other breast in his big hand. He lets go with a loud sucking sound before he decides to play a game with me. “You want me to what, baby? What do you want from me?” He reaches between us and I lift up slightly for him. I give him enough room for his fingers to find my entrance, but he only pushes his finger in a slight bit, not nearly enough to sate the desire to be filled up by him.

“I want you inside of me,” I tell him, finding the confidence to ask for what I want.

“My fingers, baby? Do you want me to push my fingers in your tight, little pussy?” Elijah’s voice is raspy with need, and his icy blue eyes light up when I shake my head ‘no’.

“Say it, little dove,” he grits out, moving his fingers back to my clit.

“I want you to fuck me, Elijah. I want your thick, hard cock, inside of me,” I say, and he doesn’t need any other encouragement. He slides down in the bed, holding me in place on his lap.Just as I reach for the waist of his sweatpants, fully prepared to pull his thick, hard cock out, a loud bang rattles his bedroom door.

"What the fuck?" Elijah barks, his whole body tightening beneath me as the pounding starts again.

"Get the fuck out here, man. It's Paris."

BLAIR

CHAPTER TWELVE

The second Noah says her name, every trace of warmth disappears from the room. I throw my legs off of Elijah and scramble off the bed and toward the door before I have time to think about what I'm wearing, or what I’m not. I barely make it two steps before Elijah catches me around the waist and lifts me off the floor, pulling me back against his chest while he glares toward the door like Noah is personally responsible for ruining Elijah’s life.

"Hold on. We'll be right out,” Elijah snaps, and that's when I gasp, realizing that I’m still completely naked.

"Did anyone knock on your door last night?" Noah croaks from the hallway, and Elijah is already setting me down on the bed and crossing to his dresser. He’s moving with the kind of determined stride that tells me he isn't opening that door until every inch of my bare skin is covered.

“No, not that I know of. We just woke up a little bit ago,” I say, afraid to ask my next question, but doing it anyway, because no amount of stalling is going to fix whatever has already happened. “Is Paris okay?”

Elijah yanks out a pair of gray sweatpants and holds them toward me without a word, and even though I would normally give him a hard time for being ridiculous, the fear curling through my stomach at the mention of Paris being in trouble keeps me quiet. I step into them and roll the waistband several times before they finally stop sliding down my hips, though the legs are still so long that the fabric bunches around my ankles.

“Yes, from what I’ve heard she is now,” Noah says, but it’s clear he’s holding back. I don’t know if it's because he doesn’t want to upset me or if he’s just waiting until we can be face to face.

It’s Elijah who helps me into one of his old high school hoodies. It’s still too big, but not as much as the one I had on last night. As I’m trying to shove the sleeves up my decidedly too-short-for-this forearms, Elijah looks me over once. He apparently decides that his brother won't be able to see enough skin to send him into a rage, and only then does he unlock the door.

Noah is standing on the other side looking so pale that my stomach drops before he even opens his mouth. The easy smile he usually wears is gone, and there is something raw and genuinely frightened in his expression that makes it clear this isn't one of Paris's dramatic outfit disasters or a prank Noah thought would be fun to play on us.

“Spit it out,” Elijah says, standing behind me and wrapping me in his arms. He’s so tall that he isn’t able to rest his chin on the top of my head, so he settles for slipping his hand inside the hoodie to seek out the warm skin of my stomach. “I can already tell I’m going to be fucking pissed at whatever is going on.”

Noah drags a hand over the back of his neck and looks down the hallway before answering, like he needs a second to figure out how to say it. "She was pretty beat up. She has bruises all over her face and arms, and..." He trails off, swallowing hard enough that I can see the movement in his throat.

"Where's Ben?" Elijah demands. "Does he know? Why was she left alone?" That’s my question too. It doesn’t make sense that Ben would let her out of his sight, especially after finding out she’d been drugged and left in the cathedral.

My stomach knots, and I slip my hand over Elijah’s, trying to calm him so I can get the answers that we really need right now. “Is she okay? I mean, is she going to be okay?”