Page 35 of Obsessed


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A silent agreement.

And it makes the tense muscles in my body loosen and I clasp my mouth over hers, tasting her to see if she told me the truth. Judging by the way, she ferociously kisses me back, I think she did.

Perfect, perfect girl.

Impious girl.

She’s too lovely to be taken in a basement. The lights in here too bright, the pipes drumming with the sound of water but she wants it, crawling up on my hard mattress like she’s in heat. Looking at her entrance, I can tell she’s ready and I lick my lips, taking off my briefs and grip my shaft.

It’s barely out in the air, before she takes over and I let out a hiss, my eyes flaring. In her hands I’m powerless, my cock belonging to her and I groan when she wraps her lips around me. She can barely fit it, letting out a piqued sound like it’s my fault I’m big.

I stroke her lovingly over the hair, a hoarse laugh coming out of my throat but I choke on it when she pushes me farther inside and my body shoots tight as an arrow. Fuck, what is she doing...?

I react fiercely, perspiration starting to slide down my back and I squeeze my eyes, clenching my fists. This is torture. She’s torturing me. Ruthlessly. Her nails dig into my skin, her tits slapping against my thighs as she moans and kneads me with her naughty mouth.

She can give as good as she gets and her treatment makes me shudder, the release building up so hard that I try to gently push her face away but she doesn’t want to. Instead she lets out a sound in her throat that sounds like a kittenish hiss.

A warning? From her? My eyes flutter from lust. She’s never going to stop slowly killing me is she?

Pumping me, she slides me as deep as she can inside of her throat, any moan of hers fully muzzled and her eyes tear up, crushing my heart but I’m about to come in her mouth. At the last second I withdraw, shooting ropes of white and pushing her down on the bed, I hit her bare slit with my come.

She moans, fisting the sheet and her chest is flushed, her lips trembling but that secret glimmer in her eyes is firing. She’s not done with me yet and I’m still panting when she straddles me, sliding down my semi erect length, stretching herself.

“Is this what you’ve been dreaming about all along?” she says in a teasing voice as her hips jut forward and I go rock hard. “Poor, poor Stan torturing himself with thoughts of fucking my innocent, little pussy?”

Poor Stan? My lips pull from my teeth and I ram my pelvis upward in warning and she gasps.

“It’s the truth isn’t it?” she pants, then smiles. “This pussy owns you. Owns a big, bad man like you and you can’t do anything about it.”

I growl, squeezing her tits and sweat tickles my forehead and I fear that I’ll tear her in half if she keeps going on like this. She’s changed. She now know the full extent of the control that she has over me.

And judging by the slightly merciless expression on her face, she’s not going to hesitate to use it.

“Feel p...powerless, Stan?” she whispers in delirium and I know what she’s doing. She’s milking me. Both my cock and everything else inside of me and I wrap her thick hair around my fist.

“Always, all mine,” I rasps. “Always powerless when it comes to you.”

Her eyes flare in excitement, her mouth opening in a moan and she starts bouncing on me, her whole body vibrating.

“Am I fucking you too h...hard?” she asks, clenching around me and my neck strains, making me snarl,

“Not nearly hard enough.”

Her ass is misbehaving, pussy and mouth doing the same and I’ve had it, roughly grabbing her and throw her down, before mounting her. I bend my head, pulling her whole breast into my mouth, making her breathe and curse my name and her legs wrap around me, disgracefully spurring me on.

She’s so slick, so eager that it feels like the seams holding my mind together are going to burst. I can never let her get away. Never. I drive into her harder, making her whimper.

The basement is sound isolated. Private. A secret holding a secret.

A secret between a depraved man and the girl who’s darkness he had to pull out with his claws and teeth so that she would be able to love him. He was sick for doing so. Twisted.

And he’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

“I love you, Stan,” she moans, her hair slick against her face, her nipples soaked from my suckling, her core tender and so soft that I feel like I should ask for forgiveness for doing this to her.

“Don’t say that, unless you want me to lose all control,” I caution but her eyes flicker in protest. If she was dangerous to me before, it’s nothing compared to what she is now.

“I love you,” she says throatily with hooded eyes, then squeals when I push in more of me but she doesn’t stop. “I love you, I love you...”

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