WHEN OBSESSION GOES WRONG

2

Chapter 2

Ana's pov

I hadn't slept nor eaten for two days, all because of him.

Betrayal weighed heavily, making my hospital shift feel like wading through wet cement. Janet, my fiercely cynical coworker and close friend, kept probing for answers at the nurse's station, but I refused to give in.

Janet's skepticism about Casper meant a confession now would only bring a smug, "I told you so."

My pride couldn't stomach it, but my exhausted face betrayed my agony.

Towards the end of our grueling twelve-hour shift, Janet, for the umpteenth time, pulled her rolling chair up next to mine. “Okay, spill.”

And as if in a trance, I told her everything.

Surprisingly, she didn't give the expected reaction.

Janet squeezed my hand, her eyes filled with rare warmth. “My God, Ana... I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I cut in, a cold, bitter laugh slipping past my lips. “I can’t believe I actually loved a scumbag who only blew up my phone with baseless excuses before entirely giving up on me. But I’m done crying. I'll make him pay.”

Janet nodded grimly, her grip tightening on my fingers. “Damn right. You can’t be hung up on a bastard like that.”

“I know,” I whispered, staring at the bare skin of my ring finger.

A dark, reckless idea flashed through my mind—a desperate urge to cheat back, to balance the ledger and completely erase Casper’s touch from my skin.

But revenge wouldn't restore my virginity, which I’d foolishly given to a man who treated it like temporary amusement.

*******************

On Sunday, a loud, impatient pounding rattled my front door before Janet burst inside.

“Get up,” she ordered, tossing a sleek black dress onto my bed. “We are going out.”

I groaned, burying my face in the pillow. “Janet, please. I’m not in the mood to go out.”

“I don’t care,” she countered, pulling the covers off me. “You are not sitting here drowning in your feelings. We are going to the club, you are getting a drink, and you are going to forget he exists.”

An hour later, I was trapped in the thumping chaos of the nightclub. While Janet immediately lost herself on the crowded dance floor, I sought sanctuary at the bar.

But the numbness refused to come, even as I slammed down the next round of tequila. And the next.

Instead of fading, the alcohol unlocked the floodgates of terrifying anger. I should have slapped him across the face that night.

A bitter sob caught in my throat. I had been a desperate fool to believe a rich dude who was just biding his time. My fingers tightened so hard around the empty glass that my knuckles turned white.

“Are you alright?” a deep, smooth voice murmured.

I blinked through the haze, realizing a man with striking, razor-sharp features had registered to my left, watching me with quiet curiosity.

“Alright?” I repeated, a sad smile touching my lips. “Yes, I am.”

A sudden, cold boldness washed over me as I turned fully to face him.

“Do you care for some company tonight, mister?”

***Moments later***

Steam billowed behind him as he stepped from the en-suite shower, a white towel slung precariously low on his sculpted, dripping waist. The prominent, heavy shape pushing against the damp fabric made my throat dry.

He was a magnificent, dangerous stranger, but I was perched on his mattress anyway, driven by a manic, desperate need to completely erase Casper from my skin.

“Don't just stare,” he cautioned, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips as he dried his dark hair with a smaller towel.

I leaned back on my elbows, tilting my head as a shy, uncharacteristic boldness took over. “Is it a crime to appreciate the view?”

“Only if you don't intend to touch,” he purred. He dropped the towel, bridging the gap between us. His dark eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch.

He leaned over me, trapping me against the mattress, the clean, hot scent of his skin flowing directly into my lungs.

“You seem broken,” he remarked softly, his voice a low, gravelly vibration in the quiet room.

I blinked up at him, my playful confidence instantly evaporating.

“What...?” I mumbled.

He didn't answer with words right away. His head dipped, his lips finding the sensitive skin right beneath my jawline, delivering slow, agonizingly warm kisses that made me shudder against the sheets.

The intense contrast of his cool lips against my burning skin sent a violent jolt straight down my spine.

“Don't worry,” he whispered darkly against my pulse point, his hands sliding up my thighs. “I'm going to fix it all.”

Before I could process the words, he slid down my body, dropping heavily to his knees on the floor between my thighs.

His hands gripped the hem of my dress, sliding the fabric up and pulling it completely over my head until I was left in nothing but my black lace panties.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of the lace, dragging them down my legs before hooking his arms behind my knees to yank my hips right to the edge of the mattress, burying me against his chest.

A gasp ripped from my throat, and I couldn't contain the sudden, overwhelming rush of pure pleasure as his head dipped. The shocking sweetness of his tongue pressing gently against my bare c**t shattered the last of my control.

My body jerked upward, my hands gripping the silk bedsheets for dear life. Only then, as the cool air of the room hit my bare skin, did the alcohol-induced fog clear enough for me to realize I was completely naked before a man I knew nothing about.

But the shame was instantly drowned by desire. He kept sucking, his lips creating a relentless vacuum while his hands slid up to caress and pinch my aching n*****s. The dual stimulation was too much, and I soon felt the undeniable, tightening rush of my first climax building in my lower belly.

“f**k me!” I urged, my voice raw, stripping away all dignity. I wanted him. I needed him to fill the empty, aching void in me.

“Not yet,” he said sharply, his voice commanding, laced with a dark authority that only made my blood run hotter.

He was soon done with his tongue, but he offered no relief. Instead, he switched to his fingers. He drove them inside me, digging deeper and pushing harder, establishing a punishing, relentless rhythm until every single inch of my body ignited with an agonizingly sweet pleasure. I was writhing beneath him, completely at his mercy.

“Ready?” he whispered, finally standing up.

I opened my eyes, my vision blurred with tears of friction. He towered over me, a faint, triumphant grin playing on his lips.

He unknotted the towel, letting it pool at his feet, revealing his shaft. I gasped, my eyes widening in the dim light.

It was large. Perhaps too large, thick and daunting.

But he didn't give it to me immediately. He maintained the head of his shaft against my dripping c**t, rubbing and squeezing his weight against me, teasing my entry until I was weeping from the agonizing delay.

“Please!” I moaned, arching my hips off the mattress to meet him.

The pleasure was unimaginable, my nerve endings screaming, my entire body wanting to explode from the sheer tension. But he kept doing his thing, torturing me with slow, agonizing friction until I was begging.

Then, with a clean, powerful first stroke, he drove his hips forward.

His entire shaft disappeared inside me. I threw my head back, my spine arching into a rigid line to contain the sheer, stretching size of him. It was thick, and it was devastatingly deep, bottoming out against my core.