His Obsession Read online

  “Do you know how hot and wet you are for me, Janet?” he said.

  I only moaned and reached my hand down as well over his to hasten his movements. But he continued rubbing me at the same agonizing pace, drawing out my pleasure to his will.

  “Is it hot and wet just for me, Janet?” he said, grunting.

  “Yes,” I said, my hand tightening over his.

  “For who?”

  “Just for you, Armand.”

  His hand withdrew from me and he stepped back.

  I felt his distance as an unbearable separation, a step away from me that was actually a painful mile away emotionally.

  And then his arm snapped around my chest, pulling me so tightly it was hard to breathe.

  He pressed his mouth over my ear and inhaled while he held my breasts.

  “I’m going to treat you for being such a good girl tonight,” he said, his voice hoarse mad with desire.

  “I’m going to give you all of my cock and cum, you sexy little bitch.”

  I reached my hand off the desk and was fully supported by his single arm around me, but before I could touch him I felt him suddenly fill me up completely.

  His pelvis slammed into me from behind and I nearly collapsed from the sudden deep heat now buried inside of me, but his arm around me held me up in spite of myself.

  He let out a long breathy groan as his dick moved ever so slightly inside of me, and I felt him shiver as his arms tightened around me again.

  He buried his head in the nape of my neck and kissed my collarbone and I held the top of his head and ran my fingers through his thick hair.

  “Ugh, Janet,” he said. “I’m going to cum so hard.”

  I could only moan in response. I was beyond the point of words. My conscious mind was long taken over by my body’s lust for him.

  He grabbed my hand that was holding his head and then he held it over my breasts, crossing me with both of his arms.

  He fucked me faster and faster, pulling himself out and inside of me the whole length of his cock, holding me so tightly with his arms I could feel his heart beating against my sweaty back.

  Finally he pulled me in closer than before I felt I was almost going to be crushed, and he came in powerful spurts inside of me, groaning for several moments while he completed his pleasure. His sudden collapse over me that pressed me over the table between him was enough to make me cum and I felt myself shake, bounded by his heavy body.

  He stood himself up slightly and caressed my back while he softened inside me, and then turned me around so that my back was on the desk.

  Because it was pitch black, I couldn’t see where he was, but then I felt his lips on mine, kissing me deeply, our bodies disappearing together in the darkness.

  I held his neck with my hand and kissed back.

  Although I was totally deprived of my sense of sight, I felt his security totally. The fear when I had wondered where he was, when the idea of him being everywhere in the room around me was a threat, was now a sense of comfort. Our kiss was the only thing my mind and body was aware of, it was the only thing I knew in that moment.

  He withdrew his lips and stroked my hair and then whispered to me.

  “Let’s go to bed, Janet.”

  I felt his hand follow the side of my body, up to my arm, and then down to my hand, exploring in the darkness, before holding me and guiding me up. I stood up and followed his guidance out of the dark room.

  When he opened the door, the sudden brightness was blinding.

  But the first thing I saw when my eyes readjusted to the light was his beautiful face, his smile that collected the light of the room as if to guide me to him.

  I walked to him and buried my head in his chest.

  He ran his hand down my hair and to my shoulder.

  “Let’s change and sleep, Janet,” he said.

  He kissed me and then led me by my hand into his bedroom.

  I shivered from his voice

  My jaw dropped when I saw his bedroom.

  The carpet was so fine under my feet it tickled, and I rubbed them back and forth to enjoy the rippling sensation on my soles.

  Armand must have seen me acting like a kid, he came from behind me and swooped me up into his arms as if I was a feather.

  “Are you just going to stand there, or am I going to have to throw you into bed?” he said, looking down at me as I was cradled into his arms. I didn’t say anything and pinched his nose but right after I lost my breath.

  Armand threw me onto the bed.

  I bounced on the on the comforting mattress and felt the fine sheets, but before I could take them all in, Armand pounced on me.

  “I told you, Janet, let’s change and go to sleep,” he said, giving me a deep kiss after.

  “You’re making that pretty hard,” I said, kissing him back.

  “You’re making *me* pretty hard,” he said.

  He got up from me and pointed to his dresser.

  “You can take a t-shirt from the top drawer,” he said.

  I walked over and opened the dresser and took out one shirt. I took off my shirt and put on Armand’s shirt that extended past my butt, then took off my skirt and put it on the dresser.

  I looked in the mirror next to the dresser that was bounded by an intricate wooden frame.

  I looked really goofy, like a kid wearing her parents clothes for dress up.

  The shirt was so baggy on me, I might as well had been wearing a sheet.

  It reminded me of when I had tried to wear one of my ex-boyfriend’s clothes, and it stretched so tightly over my skin.

  In comparison to Armand, I was tiny.

  I turned around and shuffled back to the bed.

  “Hmm,” Armand said. “I’m having second thoughts about you wearing that shirt. Actually, I’m having second thoughts about you wearing anything at all.”

  He rubbed my bare legs and then held the bottom of my shirt and lifted it up slightly.

  I was immediately self-conscious of my body.

  The two times I was intimate with Armand, it was in dark settings.

  Outside the club, it was us and the moonlight.

  Inside his office, it was us and the darkness.

  But now he was face to face with my nakedness in a clear setting, well other than the shirt.

  I instinctively pulled down the shirt by grabbing the sides.

  Armand shot me a concerned look.

  “Janet, no,” he said, rubbing my hand that was still holding the shirt.

  “I want to see. I want to see you,” he said.

  I flashed back to my ex-boyfriend shaming me for my body and my hand unconsciously tightened, keeping the shirt down.

  “Janet,” Armand said, his voice calm. “I want you, and to see you.”

  His words and his hand slowly rubbing mine loosened my grip.

  He pulled the shirt over my stomach and over my head, my hands gently gliding with his as the fabric lifted away from me.

  “God,” he said. “You are so damn beautiful.”

  He put his arm around my back and I felt his thick forearm holding me up. I closed my eyes and felt his lips on mine, kissing me slowly.

  He broke the kiss and looked at me.

  “Don’t go anywhere. There are dangerous people wandering this time of night,” he said with a wink.

  As he got up from the bed and walked down the hall, I stared at his muscular ass propelling his legs forward.

  But after he left, a sense of unease swept over my body.

  When I saw him walk away, even though it was probably just to the bathroom to wash up, it made me think of him leaving.

  Forever.

  I never had sex like that, almost twice within the same day.

  He took me to a place I’ve never felt before, and controlled me in ways I never thought I could give to anyone.

  And I hardly knew him.

  And maybe it’d have to stay that way.

  Because if he knew why I came here –

/>   Why did I come here?

  Was it for Global Eye?

  Or was it for me?

  But the connection I felt with him was like breaking into a new world, past barriers set in mind.

  That you could only be intimate the way I had been with Armand after having known them for awhile.

  That you had to tolerate sex, rather than be exhilarated by it.

  And yet the thought returned: I didn’t really know him at all.

  Could I really have done what I did with Armand if I didn’t know him at some level, I wondered. Maybe there was a different kind of connection between people that was possible. I mean, like already knowing someone, before even meeting them. Like your soul is shaped to meet theirs…

  I was getting a little too weird with my thoughts so I stood up to stretch.

  I walked over to the dresser where I had put my bag to look for my phone but I bumped my foot on the lowest drawer.

  Something shiny that was peeking out caught my attention. I wondered if it was some kind of fancy accessory Armand might have stashed away: cufflinks, silk ties, or pocket squares. It wouldn’t hurt just to see more of his fine taste in clothes, I thought. It’d be another way to get to know him, which is what I wanted.

  I crouched down and opened the drawer slowly so as not to make a sound.

  There were a few slick silk black ties, but something oddly shiny stuck out under them, so I moved the ties away.

  What I saw made my heart stop.

  Beneath the ties, was a handgun.

  Chapter 15

  My hand reached to touch the gun but I pulled it back, as if I were going to touch a stove.

  If I touched it, my fingerprints would be on it.

  And that could incriminate me if…

  If this was really the gun that was used to kill Britney.

  I thought back to the first night outside the Rhythm nightclub, and Armand disappearing, and the police sirens ringing. And to top it all off, Philip’s description of the suspect matched Armand: tall, muscular, dark hair.

  But this had to be a coincidence.

  Lots of people had guns in America.

  It’s their protected right.

  Armand probably had some weirdos who tried to give him trouble. It’s understandable he’d have something like that for security.

  Or for murder, I thought.

  Maybe that’s why Britney never told me about her assignment, covering Armand, before she was killed.

  She knew she was in danger, and that he was capable of doing something like that. He’d take her out just like he fought the enemies of his companies: ruthlessly and skillfully.

  A chill ran down my spine, all the way to my hands, and I noticed I was shaking the drawer I was holding open.

  I had to put everything back as it was.

  If he walked in and saw me…

  I folded the ties and put the ties back in their original places and closed the drawer and stood up, facing the mirror.

  “What are you doing?” Armand’s projecting voice nearly gave me a heart attack.

  I turned my head and took in the sight.

  Armand’s shirt was off, and the backlight from the hallway against the bedroom’s light cast shadows on every single one of his abs. They looked perfectly cut, as if from stone. He was wearing loose pajama bottoms, but the fabric bunched around his crotch as his dick stiffly stuck out towards me.

  “I told you to go sleep,” he said, walking towards me.

  “I was waiting for you,” I said, sheepishly.

  He was behind me now, staring at my eyes in the mirror.

  “Don’t disobey me like that,” he said, firmly.

  I nodded my head. The thought that I just had found the murder weapon of Britney - *his* murder weapon, fought against my body’s lust for him. I wanted to turn around, and confront him, but my body wouldn’t move. Instead, all I could do was stare back at him.

  “Bend over, Janet,” he said, not breaking his stare. I followed his command.

  Armand slowly pulled up the t-shirt that was hanging over my back and butt.

  His fingers slowly glided along the back of my legs, up to my ass, and over my cheeks, pulling the t-shirt up until it was folded over my lower back. I shivered at the sudden roughness brushing my skin.

  Suddenly, he smacked my ass hard, and then rubbed the area. The sharp sound was more of a shock than the sensation.

  “When I tell you to go to sleep, you will do,” he said.

  I moved my head to nod but another smack on my ass threw me out of it.

  He was talking to me like a kid, telling me when to go sleep. How did he have the nerve? And yet I couldn’t talk back. I pushed my ass back on him and felt his bulge through his soft pajamas.

  He grabbed my left him and nudged me away from his crotch, then gave me another hard smack on the ass.

  “This isn’t for your fun,” he said. “This is your punishment.”

  I lifted my head up to look at him in the mirror and his face was emotionless. He was fully in control of himself, despite his raging hard-on. How could he go from kissing me tenderly moments ago to teaching me a lesson?

  “Yes,” I said. “I understand. I’m sorry.”

  The words came out of me without thinking. It’s like he had a hold on me beyond my control. My previous boyfriends never took the lead like this. They could be pushovers. And when we did want to do it, it was as dull as a microwave-dinner.

  Another smack on my ass broke up my train of thought.

  “Are you listening, Janet?” he said.

  “Yes, Armand, yes I am.”

  “I am a busy man. If I don’t get to sleep, work doesn’t get done. There’s no pleasure without business. And I am first and foremost a business man.” He said, slowly rubbing my ass, then massaging my lower back.

  “Yes, Armand, I understand.” I said. My eyes were closed, relishing his firm hands easing my muscles.

  “Good,” he said. “Let’s rest now.”

  He stood straight up and wrapped his arms around me, looking at me in the mirror. I melted at his gaze.

  He turned around and took me by my hand to bed.

  As we laid down, we slowly kissed, and he wrapped his arm around my stomach as we both fell asleep.

  Chapter 16

  I woke up in the morning to the sound of Armand getting out of bed. I was still tired from the night before so I stayed still.

  I barely kept my eyes closed, since I figured he might take his clothes off and get changed. That’d be a nice sight to wake up to, I thought.

  He walked towards the dresser and crouched down, then opened the bottom drawer.

  His hands quietly searched inside the drawer, and then he closed it and stood up.

  What he held his hand made me shut my eyes as if he could tell somehow I was faking being asleep.

  In his hand was the gun I had discovered in his drawer last night.

  My mind went straight to the worst.

  Maybe he saw that I had moved something around inside the drawer.

  And maybe he realized the drawer wasn’t a good place for…

  A murder weapon.

  How could I have trusted him?

  Did I just sleep with Britney’s killer?

  My heart was beating against the mattress. I didn’t know whether to be still or get the hell out of there.

  If I had moved around, I thought, maybe he’d hear me and realize I was awake, and that I might have seen him.

  But running out? I’d never have a chance to see him again. He’d think I was out of my mind.

  And straight up asking him if he did it? That’d sound absurd as well. He doesn’t even know I work at Global Eye.

  He doesn’t even know what I do, the pain of the thought echoed.

  He didn’t know that I knew Britney. And that I knew *he* knew Britney.

  I breathed in and out slowly, calming myself. There was no need to get all freaked out yet. It clouds your judgment. I’ll try asking hi
m something today.

  My heart slowed and my brain caught up to it. I didn’t have proof he did anything to Britney. It was all a coincidence at this point.

  I just needed to get to know him better.

  *Get to know a murderer better*, my brain shot back.

  No, if I just got to know him better, I’d be able to tell. A woman can just know things.

  He seemed to be carrying some kind of pain with him that followed him everywhere. And if I could just get past that pain, maybe I’d find the truth.

  I got out of bed and saw that Armand had left some track clothes for me to change into. They barely fit and made me look goofy but it was better than walking around in just the t-shirt.

  I walked around, following the sound of something frying on a stove to find my way to the kitchen, figuring that’s where Armand would be.

  His kitchen was like something you’d see on one of those TV shows that show off a celebrity’s house.

  It was spotless, shiny, full of polished steel and marble, the soft sunlight pouring through a thick chestnut framed window.

  “Good morning, Janet,” said Armand.

  He was wearing chinos and light gray t-shirt that showed off his defined arms as he cooked.

  “Sit down,” he said. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

  “What are you cooking?” I said.

  “Bacon and eggs,” he said.

  “Um,’ I said. “I don’t usually eat that. I don’t think it’s that healthy.”

  To be honest, I wasn’t really worried it being ‘that healthy’ or not.

  I was more worried about my weight.

  I remember my ex used to be shame me about eating this or that. This was too fattening. That was too salty. This has too many calories. That has too much carbs. It got to the point where I’d be so self-conscious eating in front of him, I couldn’t even get a bite in. That didn’t go over well, either.

  “Not healthy?” Armand scoffed. “I thrive off this stuff.”

  It was hard for me to believe. He was so lean, yet muscular, I couldn’t imagine him eating a cupcake.

  “Really?” I said. “I heard it wasn’t good for your heart.”

  Armand laughed, as if what I said was a joke.

  “Don’t believe everything you hear,” he said, comfortably concentrating on the pan.