Page 3 of Framed Obsession

The guy appears attractive, but the low-lighted place makes it hard to make out any other facial features. Just the glimmer reflecting from his eyes. He's got this mysterious vibe, you know? Standing there alone, arms crossed, off to the side, completely still. Definitely has that bad-boy aura. Too cool to dance, so he just hangs back, watching everyone else.

My eyes shyly look back in his direction, making me do a double-take. I try not to snag the attention of any men; that's typically the last thing on my mind, but there is something pulling me towards him. Like an invisible string that's pulling me to him.

Tingles run down my body as I notice he hasn't looked away at all. The club lights illuminate his arms just enough to reveal tanned muscles. He's covered in tattoos; veins trace through the ink, and I feel my mouth begin to salivate.

Wait, no. No more looking in his direction, Dahlia. It's girls' night.

My toxic trait is being attracted to men who look like they do bad things. Call it my savior complex. I think I can fix them. Maybe something about growing up in an almost perfect home has me wanting to attend to those who look like they have a broken past.

When the song ends, I am pulled by my arm towards the bar. I let the person drag me without a care. By the small hand tightly wrapped around, I know this person is on a mission.

“Let's get one more drink!” Z exclaims.

I think I have a slight buzz going on. More drinks equal a better time, so I comply easily. The alcohol makes my body lightly sway under the low lights, making me feel like a total lightweight. Who gets drunk off a few drinks? Me. That's who.

Tonight is supposed to be about escaping reality, yet all I can do is fixate on the man I just locked eyes with. A small part of me is disappointed that he didn't come up to me. Anytime we get approached on a girls' night, it’s typically by some dirtbag who is stumbling over, looking for a late-night hookup. Pass. No, thank you.

But if this man had come over, I would’ve at least given him my number. Maybe he wasn’t interested—maybe I misread the moment. Either way, he’s gone now; he has disappeared from his spot.

I take it as a sign. A sign from the universe that I really should break this habit and not wait for the mysterious bad boy to approach me. It’s probably for the best. I take the last drink and down it. My vision blurs quickly; suddenly everything fades to black.

Chapter 3

The Stalker

The movement of her body hypnotizes me. Everything this woman does is fucking hypnotizing. The club scene has never appealed to me, but I followed my Little Flower in here, already feeling a possessive need over her.

Something within her gentle nature makes me want to taint her. Corrupt her to the point that she is questioning every life choice she makes. She's almost too perfect. What makes an angel fall? The demons within me, perhaps.

She looked damn fucking good in what she was wearing, but the fact that other men were staring at her too, only heightened my mood. Didn’t she know other men were going to be eye-fucking her all night? Any fucker that looked her direction made me want to gouge their eyes out and feed them to them on a silver platter.

Anytime I saw another man even look like he was contemplating going up to her, I made sure they knew she was mine. The throbbing of my knuckles brings a smirk to my face. They're tinted pink, with a crack across my middle knuckle—turns out that pretty boy’s cheekbone was a little bit stronger than I gave him credit for.

All I wanted was for my flower to enjoy her night. I just sure as fuck made sure that happened. Selfishly, of course. It's beyond me how I didn't get thrown out of the club. It only took one punch to the face to get my point across. Actions speak louder than words, right? In fact, I’m not much of a talker, anyway. However, I do like to observe. One girl in particular, that is.

Her eyes meeting mine wasn't intentional. But it made me elated that she had looked my way twice. It took everything in me not to ruin my plans, walk straight up to her, kidnap her, and chain her in my basement.

If I’m not mistaken, she was eye-fucking me right back. Glad to know I’m her type. Though even if I wasn’t, she wouldn’t have another option. Fuck. The way her eyes trailed up my body until they met mine, the rosy flush blossoming across those perfect cheeks, turning them a perfect shade of pink—I wish I had snapped a photo. It’s a moment that will be engraved in my memory.

Her roommate interrupted the interaction, unfortunately catching her attention and dragging her to the bar. So, I followed at a distance. Dahlia was too busy taking in her surroundings and staring at the wall I had been leaning against that she didn't notice I was four feet away in the other direction.

Once the bartender set their drinks on the bar, I was quick to pop in my Axel special, already knowing which one she’d choose. And, like the good girl she is, she grabbed the right glass. Attagirl!

Watching her friend struggle to get incoherent Dahlia back to the apartment was pretty fucking painful. Of course, I could've been a gentleman and helped, but I’m not one. I watched through the cameras in their apartment as her friend got Dahlia changed and tucked her into bed. As soon as she was settled, I picked the lock and quickly made my way to my girl's bedroom, careful to keep quiet, so I didn’t draw the attention of her roommate after she had slipped into her own. Before entering, I opened my hacking app to make things a lot more convenient for me. And by making things convenient, I mean looping her cameras, leaving no trace of me ever having been here.

My eyes lose focus before regaining their vision again. The bright light blinds me. I’m standing with nothing but my underwear on, back pressed against the cold bedroom wall. “If I get a call from your school again, I will show everyone this photo. Is that what you want? Is that what you need me to do? Embarrass you? Because I will!”

A wet streak falls down my cheek, and my arms cross over my midsection, trying to feel less vulnerable. I’m shaking. I’m scared. I’m always scared.

“No, Mommy, please.” I let out a quiet tremble.

“This is your last warning. Do you hear me? If you want to act so tough at school, I can show everyone just how tough you are at home.”

I shake my head, pulling myself out of the lost memory. Little triggers overwhelm my thoughts, consuming me without notice. The most perfect woman is right in front of me; how could I be lost in my head right now?

She is lying peacefully on her bed. The back of my hand gently caresses her cheek, and she doesn't move, not even an inch. Looks like the drugs I slipped into her drink are doing their job.

A strand of her hair falls off her face, giving me a full view of her beautiful features in the process. She is fucking magnificent; it’s picturesque. She is resting on her side with her hands placed in front, as in prayer. The way I'd give anything to hear her pray for my cock.