Page 31 of Darkest Obsession

It wasn’t her. Fuck’s sake. I scared the hell out of her for nothing. I talked myself into thinking she was the one who sent the email. I used my suspicions as an excuse to get close to her and now my fingers still smell like her cunt. I pushed my hands into her sweaty pants and felt the outside of her soft mound. I wanted to put my fingers inside her. I could have gotten away with it but she gets me too hard and she makes my heart far too unsteady for words.

I can’t handle the closeness. After everything that happened, I’m not fucking ready. I don’t know why I can’t stay away from her. I don’t know how I concoct a million reasons in my head that it’s okay for me to touch her and grab her. I stayed back after crew practice and watched her as she danced. She didn’t notice me lurking in the hall, peering through the one small window. Why can’t I stop looking at her? She’s the one thing I can’t have. Maybe my sister’s right – I’m just another entitled Bainbridge man.

How the fuck was I supposed to stop myself from getting hard? She has full, womanly hips, thick thighs, gorgeous medium-sized breasts and after each hot session in the dance studio, Clover Robinson lifts that baggy t-shirt to wipe her face and expose a flawless brown stomach with slight curves and a belly button piercing. She’s so fucking hot.

I press my fingers to my nose again and inhale the whiff of her I have. I took her clothes with me when I left. I didn’t want her to come after me and risk getting caught nude by the janitor. I dunno how she’ll get back to her dorm, but I’m too giddy with my fresh items to care. There’s something special about a girl’s knickers, especially after she’s danced in them and sweat in them and soaked them with her girly juices.

Thank fuck Kit’s not here tonight. He’s flying to London for the night to help his cousin with some family business. Why Crispin involves that little shit in his family business I’ll never understand.

I take Clover’s knickers out of my pocket and press them to my nose. Fuck, smelling her like this is even better. My cock stiffens instantly from her scent. I can’t let myself be alone with her again. I just can’t. I need to tell someone the urges are getting bad again, but I can’t tell Sylvia without betraying what I’ve done. If Sylvia finds out about this, she’ll never forgive me, doubly so because the girl I’m hurting is her friend.

But I’m not really hurting her, am I?

I reach under the covers for my cock, an image of Clover dancing firmly imprinted on my mind as I close my eyes. I shouldn’t fantasize about her. The fantasies make me worse. I have to find a way to stay in control even when every cell in my body wants to lose control with her.

I should just talk to her.

The only problem is, she hates my guts. She hates my posh accent and everything she knows about me. I could never convince Clover Robinson that I was anything more than a spoiled rich boy who would treat her just like Jude or Kit would. Like that’s her fault. I helped them steal her knickers in the dining hall. I’ve been the furthest thing from perfect. But I’ve tried to protect her too.

I don’t know how I can justify what I do to her, but I find a way, don’t I? My hand wraps around my cock as I picture her body against mine, her thighs spreading apart and holding her nice arse as I enter her. I bet it’s soft. Her bum jiggles with each step and when she dances… her arse gets me hard just from the thought of it. With the scent of her knickers and a lusty grip on my cock, it doesn’t take long for me to finish just… imagining her.

I need to find a way to quit this. But the thought of getting with another girl to cure the itch of Clover Robinson seems wrong.

Do you believe in monogamy, Thomas? Do I believe in monogamy? What a ridiculous question. Monogamy is purely human, purely about trust, commitment and fidelity you don’t find often in the animal kingdom. Our urges and impulses may pull us in a million different directions but monogamy sets us above those baser instincts.

We choose one person and that makes what we have special.

If my dad understood that, we would still have a family, not just six broken people connected by an experience we once shared that we’ll never get to share again. I clean myself and shower before bed, struggling against my urges to touch myself again thinking about Clover in the shower. My phone buzzes before bed again.

Fuck’s sake.

It’s another email.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: disobedience

Dear Mr. Bainbridge,

If Sylvia Richards knew the complete truth, she would never call you a friend.

She might be a bitch, but she isn’t stupid.

Amelia Harrington. I know you recognize her name.

Wear your hair in a man bun tomorrow or I will tell Sylvia the entire truth about that night.

There are many details you currently believe to be a secret.

I can assure you that you are incorrect and I will leak these details to Ms. Richards.

Consider your actions carefully.

Sincerely,

Spicy Freak