Page 20 of Devious Obsession
I punch the bag in front of me harder, driving into it with everything I have. As if that’ll make it better. As if that’ll solve my problems and make my brain stop working in overdrive. But now I’ve started dreaming about her under me. The feel of her neck in my grip, the little breathy sounds she made when she struggled.
My dick is hard in an instant, and I stop moving. I look down at it, clenching my jaw.
She was made for me. Her reactions, following my orders, her fear. She’s made totemptme—it’s like my father fucking knew that when he married her mother. When he brought her into the house that my mother lived in, the house my mother raised me in, and let her take over.
That’s why I didn’t go home this summer. Because I sure as hell didn’t need to see evidence of that woman’s takeover.
And now he’s sent her siren daughter to spy on me. To feed information back to him, because apparently my communication with him isn’t enough. Our relationship is too strained, too muddled from our past for anything like trust to exist between us.
Bet he’s regretting giving me access to my inheritance at the humble age of eighteen.
My brother, Blake, is nineteen. Two years younger than me. He’s at school on the West Coast, playing football for a division one school. We haven’t been close in a long time, but I imagine he took his money and ran, too.
I straighten, an idea bursting into existence in my brain. The spy can be threatened, tormented—but I need more dirt on her. More than just a photo of her breasts on my phone.
When I told her to show them to me, I didn’t think I’d do much more than take a picture to distribute. But then Isawthem, and the fury in her eyes as she did what I said, and I changed my mind.
Coming on her wasn’t part of the plan either, but if I need to assure the world she’s a whore, this would do it. The stairwell is dim, but it’s obvious where we were. And what we were doing.
I unwrap my hands and leave the stadium gym. It’s almost two o’clock in the morning, and the moon is high. Sleep is a long way off, per usual. I don’t know what it is about the darkness that’s so alluring—and what it is about sleep that’s so repulsive.
Exiting the stadium—the gym here is better than the one on campus—I head back toward the hockey house. But my feet carry me past it, to the quiet row of brownstones a few blocks over. I stop in front of Aspen’s, my lips curling at the light on in one of the bedrooms.
Is she a night owl like me?
Or is it her roommate?
I followed her back here the other day, knowing she’d scurry home to change and get my scent off her. She’s got a first-floor apartment—nice for moving in, not so good for security purposes.
The light goes out, and her form passes by the window.
I give her an hour to fall asleep and then I push away from the shadows across the street. Her window is cracked, letting in the breeze. The screen pops out easily when I slide my pocket knife along the edge of the frame, loosening the catch. I put it on the ground and drop my bag beside it. I peer into her dark room, eyeing the shape of her, in the bed against the wall.
Luckily, the space in front of her window is clear, and I vault in with ease.
My footsteps are light on her rug, but I pause nonetheless.
Her soft breathing fills the room.
I stride closer and stare down at her. I can barely make out her features in the darkness, even with the streetlights illuminating her room with a pale, warm light. I reach out and run my finger down her bare arm, and she shivers.
My stomach swoops.
My cock goes hard, pressing against my shorts.
Instead of doing exactly what I want with her, I step back and glance around her room. I turn on the flashlight on my phone and shine it around. A desk and chair, which seems to be a catch-all for clothes. Her backpack that I threatened earlier, once again packed with whatever she carries around.
On the desk are her keys.
An idea occurs to me, and I carefully pick them up. There’s only a few keys—probably one to the front door of the brownstone, then the apartment, and who knows what else—but I go to the window and drop them out to collect later.
She lets out a breathy sigh, and my willpower fractures. I slide the blanket down her body, stopping at her hips. When she doesn’t move, I lift her shirt. Her breasts are plump, round. Her nipples immediately stiffen, and I run my finger over one of them.
I wasn’t going to…
My control completely shatters, though, and I yank the blankets the rest of the way off. She’s not wearing shorts or pajama bottoms like I would’ve guessed—just fucking panties.
I roll her onto her back, somewhat surprised that she doesn’t wake up, and part her pretty legs. I drop my shorts to the floor. My heart is pounding out of my chest, tight with anticipation, as I crawl over her. I slide her panties to the side, and the tip of my cock touches the apex of her legs.
