Obsessed by Ever Lilac

 

 

 

11

 

 

Amber

 

He looks different when he sleeps. Unguarded. He’s too big for my bed, his limbs splaying, mouth half open and his lids flutter. He truly is gorgeous. His shaft is jutting against the sheets, lengthy and thick and aggressive even in his sleep.

Like this he could be mistaken for any other regular man. A common one but he’s not common. The way he speaks and acts isn’t common. The way he used my body last night wasn’t common either, the way he squeezes out every little, last drop from me.

I’m still tender between my legs and my stomach flip flops with heat. I’ve never met a man who can compare to him and it makes me want to be pinned down forever by him and have his baby.

Stan knows I’m on the pill but and when I told him, he looked relieved. I frown at that. Doesn’t he want to have a family? Not even with me? He must want that. He hasn’t told me he loves me but he acts like he does.

Wouldn’t he then want a symbol of his adulation for me?

Shrugging myself, I get up and wrap a robe around me, while letting Stan sleep. Down in the kitchen, I sigh when I notice that the letter box is still on the table. I forgot to put it away and I glance at one of the letters.

The Admirer.

As strange as it sounds, The Admirer was the only one who believed in me before Stan came along. And I’ll always be grateful for that but maybe it’s time to move on.

It feels a little cheaty to still have those letters lying around now that I have Stan. And considering how possessive Stan is , he probably won’t want me to keep them...

“Reading those again?” a depraved voice rasps behind me and I turn around, only to see Stan standing in the middle of the kitchen, with nothing but a pair of briefs on and I swallow, smiling a little.

Flushing because now he probably thinks that I have hubris, I answer,

“I thought you were asleep.” The morning sun shines on him, highlighting him, stressing the sharpness of his cheekbones, the slight fullness of his lower lip. In a light like this one it’s hard to remember how he has another side to. A side that I have learned to...

Love.

“I was,” he answers, his eyes stirring, “but then you left my bed because you can’t get enough of the attention can you?”

My cheeks heat and I wrap my robe tighter around me. “What...?”

He stalks over to me, his eyes triumphant. “You like the power you have? You like being obsessed over to the point of driving a man to insanity don’t you, dirty, filthy little girl?”

Gasping I whisper, “I’m only dirty for you Stan. I’m only your filthy, dirty little girl.”

“That’s the kind of things I like coming out of your mouth, all mine,” he rasps. “Because I sure as fuck haven’t corrupted you for anyone else but me.”

I moan into his mouth when he kisses me and he tastes of mint toothpaste and his shaft digs into my stomach and waves of lava hot flames spread through my body. Driving a man to insanity...

Is that what I have done to him? And maybe...he’s done the same to me.

“Don’t ever leave me, Stan,” I whisper against his mouth and his lips tense. He pulls away, looking horrified, then perplexed like what I’m saying is absurd. “I want you so much.”

He strokes my hair, my face, a little too roughly and he’s almost pawing me like he can’t control his movements when he hears those kinds of words out of my lips. They gratify him.

“Would you do anything for me?” he asks and I nod frantically. “Even give things up?”

“Yes, anything for you.”

“Ripping my useless heart out when talking like that,” he groans, running his hand over my body, his tongue probing mine, making my head spin like a rollercoaster. We’re about to take things further when my stomach whines in protest and Stan chuckles.

“Can’t have you hungry,” he says with warm eyes, “I wanted to wake up earlier and make you breakfast but you beat me to it.”

“It’s not too late. You could still make it,” I purr teasingly, looking at him underneath my lashes and he grins, roughing up my bedhead even worse.

He makes me feel cared for like I’m made out of precious jewels, he can’t afford to lose. Looking at the possessive intent on his face, I pity the man who would try to steal me from him.

Not that anyone will be able to. Stan has etched himself into my very core and I know I’ve done the same for him.

“The usual?” Stan asks and I bite my lip, nodding and he turns, taking out milk and I’m wondering whether I should just give up and have him for breakfast instead when I hear my phone buzzing out in the hallway.

I forgot to take it out of my purse yesterday and I fish it out, answering quickly after noticing that there’s been several missed calls.

“Hey big brother,” I murmur, walking out into the kitchen again and Stan throws a look over his shoulder and I mouth, “Its Gautier.” Stan’s eyes narrow.

“Amber I’ve been trying to call you several this times this morning, why haven’t you answered?”

Because I was knocked out after losing my virginity last night.

“It’s Saturday. I slept in,” I murmur, leaning over the table as I admire Stan’s muscular back. His shoulders are wide, his skin smooth and tanned but there’s a crescent shaped, ugly scar on his shoulder blade, going down to his ribs.

My fingers danced over that scar yesterday. He said it came from an old knife fight. It made me feel furious that someone had dared to hurt him. I told him so and he laughed and shut me up with a thousand kisses and counted each one out loud.

There’s something kinky and forbidden about us, but sometimes it’s also deliciously sweet.

“You shouldn’t have,” Gautier continues. “You need to get out of your house. Now.”

Fingering the fan letters, I raise my brows. “What? Why?”

“Is Stanmore with you?”

“Yes...”

Stan glances at me and I give him a pale smile.

“Then get out. I’ve found out some things about him and I don’t want him anywhere near you.”

“Not you too. I’d expect this from Gina but not...”

“Let me speak,” he says in his usual arrogant tone and I sigh. “After what happened yesterday, I got concerned and looked him up and let me tell you it’s not easy finding things about him but I have this friend...”

“Just tell me what it is,” I say softly, shaking my head at my brother’s sudden overprotectiveness.

“Did you know that Stanmore’s mother was Jaqueline Du Caron?” he says and my eyes flare. I’d known she was a cellist. Not that she’d been one of the most celebrated cellists in the world. And Stan’s her son...

“N...no,” I say and Stan turns around, grabbing a glass out of the cupboard and gives me a cautionary glance before filling it with water.

“And did you know he’s been in and out of juvenile since he was thirteen? That he was supposed to go to prison for years after he organized one of the biggest bank robberies in the country when he was twenty? But do you know what the sneaky bastard did?”

My hands start shaking at all this new information. “N...no.”

“He represented himself in court and managed to get such a mild punishment it’s laughable.” Gautier lets out a furious/impressed curse. “I knew he was trouble from the moment I saw him. Amber don’t you get it? He’s not a guy who came down from Colorado because he got a new job. Why would a thirty year old, financially stable man need to share a house?”

My brother’s words come out like a rushing waterfall, making me dizzy and for a second black spots dance before my eyes.

Inhaling, Gautier blurts, “He’s there because of you. Because he wants you. You need to get out...”

I tense, my eyes slowly going to Stan as he’s drinking out of the glass and I watch the water run down his throat. He puts the glass down. Firmly. His eyes go to mine and they’re hard. His mouth voracious.

“Hang up,” he says in a callous voice and I drop the phone, my jaw slacking.

“Stan...” I say carefully, my heart starting to thrash in my chest as he turns his body toward me and I lick my lips. In my periphery, I see the letters, the ones written by hand with a red pen.

Those words. So explosive with pain and longing. Obsession.

“You wrote the letters, didn’t you?” I slowly start backing away and he doesn’t blink when he looks at me. “You sent the roses...”

Swallowing I add, “You spied on me in the woods.” He was the one who made me feel chased and then when I ran into him he made me feel like I had been running to him all along.

He doesn’t deny it, prowling over to me with a frozen expression as I keep backing away until I hit a wall and I let out a whimper. The sound makes his eyes flare.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says in a voice filled with agony. “You don’t know what it does to me.” He raises his hand to brush my hair but I flinch and he drops it, his fist clenching. “Don’t be scared.”

His words are strained. Despairing. He sounds like a man who loves me so much that my heart does such a fast pump that it hurts.

I shake my head, trying to ignore the spikes of adrenaline. “B...but you orchestrated all of this, just so you could get close to me.”

“And I’d do it all again. It was worth it. It was all worth it.” His face distorts in torment and zealousness. He gives me my phone. “Go ahead, all mine. Call the cops on me. Tell them about the screwed up guy living in your basement and how much he frightens you and disgusts you and makes you cry bitter tears because you let him fuck you.”

My head spins. All I can think about is Stan behind bars. The sheer thought fills me with so much dread that it feels like being slashed by my knees. I push his hand away, the slight touch making a thrill rush through my veins.

He looks surprised and he quickly drops the phone as if expecting me to change my mind. But I won’t. I can’t.

“If you want to run, then I’ll let you go even if it will kill me. I’ll always wait for you in the background, hoping that one day you’ll come back to me. But if you stay..,” his eyes turn black, “your life will be in my hands.”

Give myself over to him like that? Completely.

He touches my lips with his fingertips and this time I don’t flinch. This time I melt. How can I ever say no to him? I know there’s good in him, I can see it, feel it and it’s what I choose to focus on.

“I love you,” he gravels, his jet black eyes turning sharp with emotions, “I love you so much it turns me inside out.”

I know better than to deny it because I know it’s not a lie. Inhaling as it feels like I can’t get air from how hard my pulse is beating, I shove a little at Stan but he doesn’t budge. His features stern with displeasure until I give him a pleading glance and he reluctantly moves.

“Where are you going?” he says in a low voice but his words drift when I open the door to the basement and I throw a look over my shoulder, my eyes telling him to follow.

With a somber look on his face like he thinks I’ve lost any sense for self-preservation, he follows and once we’re down in the basement, I shiver when the door closes behind us.

“Lock it,” I breathe and Stan raises his brows, hesitating but then something flips in his gaze and he locks it. Once he told me I was fearless. I don’t know if it’s that true but I know one thing for sure and that is...

“Maybe this is wrong of me,” I whisper, “but I don’t care. I need you; I want you because I can never want anyone else...”

He’s ruined me for the rest of the world. And he knows it.

He lets out strange sound, low and primitive, deep inside of his chest and his hands cup my face. They’re cold but I know his heart is the only warm thing, I can be too close to without getting burned.

Tugging at the rope around my robe, I let it pool down my feet and I’m a little ashamed that I’m so aroused. But my body is ready for him. My heart is ready for him.

I know who he is now.

And I’m going to embrace it.