An English Man's Desire and Obsession

CHAPTER 2

Thomas

This is a bloody joke. I’m a bloody joke.

Stalker isn’t something I thought I’d ever have a reason to call myself, but here I am, standing outside this depressing hovel in the pissing-down rain. She deserves so much better than a place like this. She might’ve seen me just now, but it’s impossible to be sure. I stepped back just in case, hiding in the small passageway between two houses.

This street reminds me of the sort I grew up on, a tinge of nastiness in the air like any second somebody could kick down a door, light up some c***k, or… Bloody hell, I’m letting my mind go to the past again.

Before I laid eyes on my Amelia, I never let things like that impact me. I was as cold as this rain, and, just like the rain, I let things slip off me. The past didn’t matter. The future didn’t matter except for the next meeting or deal, but then I saw her.

A sleek black vehicle with tinted windows pulls up in the street in front of me. My security team is probably getting nervous about me spending so much time here, mainly because I haven’t told them why. I haven’t told anyone why, not even George. Even he doesn’t know.

The window rolls down. Steve, the head of my security team, calls over, “Sir, we’ve got a message from…” I almost tune him out as he goes on. One of my business associates needs me for a meeting.

This isn’t something a billionaire should do—become obsessed with a twenty-year-old woman I’ve never spoken to, a woman who doesn’t even know my name. Nevertheless, she’s mine. She belongs to me. As hard as I try, I can’t stop feeling that way.

She deserves so, so much better than this. I can’t stay here all evening, though. Anyway, I know where she will be, her home and work addresses. I’m not saying I’m going to stalk her. I’m not saying my obsession has become that strong, but I’m not saying I’ll stay away, either.

* * *

Later, once the meeting ends, I walk through the streets at night-time with Loki at my side, the Jack Russell so much more peaceful than when I first rescued him. He was three and had been treated terribly, making him scared and aggressive, barking at everything. Now, the black-and-tan dog is mostly calm and happy. However, as we walk through Chelsea’s clean, well-tended streets tonight, Loki rumbles a few times from low in his throat. He even turns and glances at the car slowly trailing us, my ever-present security team.

“Relax, boy,” I tell him, kneeling and stroking him behind the ear.

He grins up at me. The rain has stopped, but the ground is still slightly wet. Maybe I should care that I’m getting my expensive pants dirty, but I don’t. Nothing matters lately or has had any impact except for Amelia.

“Nice and calm on the way back. All right, little man?”

Loki trots at my side, sniffing and marking. My thoughts are free to dance away to Amelia’s video, the one she submitted to Realization Global, to get the internship. I’ve watched it so many times it’s tattooed into my mind, though Amelia probably has no idea who I am or my connection to the company. Billionaires are rare, but there are enough of us that if a man doesn’t want fame, he can remain relatively anonymous.

Just thinking about the video gets me fired up. It makes my body pump, my balls swell, and my shaft threaten to get rock hard when I think about her standing in the well-lit room in front of the plain wall.

She was wearing this hip-hugging skirt that showed the shape of her curvy body, her thighs pressing through when she moved. The shirt clutched her breasts, outlining them gorgeously as if tempting me with her shape. There was nothing overtly s****l about it—not like she was trying to be sexy. More like she just is, without realizing it.

Her hair was straight and brown, combed down to her shoulders, her eyes wide and green, and a gorgeous mixture of bravery and naivety. She’d sometimes briefly bite her lip between sentences, then let it go as though annoyed at herself.

“I believe in the power of art.”

I remember the passion in her voice. I can hear it now as the video replays in my mind.

“A painting, a drawing, a logo… It has the power to bring people together—to make connections you never would have dreamed of before.”

That line lingers in my mind. Connections I would never have dreamed of… That’s her. That’sus. I never imagined falling hard like a meteor for a stranger, a woman less than half my age.

Loki and I return to my flat, riding the lift to the top floor, the penthouse suite. It overlooks the entire city, the Thames shining as the clouds clear and the city lights bounce off the water. It’s almost midnight, and I should wind down and try to get some sleep so I can wake up at six and do it all again.

Running the parent company of several multibillion-dollar companies is a stressful, time-consuming endeavor. I’ve streamlined the process with intelligent delegation. Currently, there are no acquisitions or other all-hands-on-deck situations, but it’s still a lot.

I never thought like that before. I never stopped to question it. Now, with Amelia in my mind, I ponder it often. Having the time to dedicate to her, the freedom to build a family together, to really be together.

“I don’t know this woman,” I tell Loki, sitting at the window with him curled up at my feet. He’s sleeping, but I still like speaking to him, especially lately, which is probably why he’s on edge more than usual. He can sense the fire in me, the burning constantly trying to get out, the scorching that won’t stop. It’s a bloody inferno, and all aimed at her.

Eventually, I can’t take it anymore. I go into the bedroom, ensuring Loki is settled in his bed first, and take out my phone. Maybe this is stalkerish too, but I’ve taken a screenshot of a specific part of the video. It’s when she’s turned sideways, gesturing to a picture she’s holding. The angle highlights the curve of her hips and thighs. There’s something about how she looks across her shoulder, her mouth slightly parted as if waiting for a kiss.

Before I have time to think about how f****d this is—a screenshot of a stranger—I’m doing it again. The lust has thundered inside me, erupted in sparks of lightning and heat, and I’m on the bed, my manhood in my hand, stroking passionately as I imagine tearing her shirt open.

I’d reveal those perfect t**s and start massaging them, softly pushing them together and then sucking her n*****s, one, then the other. Then, as she moaned in her cute American voice, I’d slip my hand up her skirt and find her perfect p***y, her core already soaked for me because she knows too.

She has to know. We belong together. No. Other. Man. Nobody ever touches her.

I’m gasping, my hand moving fast, my entire shaft aching and pulsing as I stroke quicker, as the tip of my c**k tingles with the closeness of the release. Even as I race toward this finish, a voice deep within demands that I stop. It tells me it’s a waste to do this here and now. Anything except pushing those juicy thighs apart and driving my d**k deep inside, exploding into her womb, is a waste. My seed belongs inside her, where it can be of some use.

Once I finish, I lie here for a few moments, the come hot against my hard stomach.

I look into my Amelia’s eyes and imagine what she would say if she were here if we’d done the real thing instead of this consolation prize.

“I hope you just got me pregnant.”

But how can a man like me ever know if a woman really wants him?

Maybe, I reflect, as I clean the come from my abs, it’s better to live in the fantasy.