Obsessed

Chapter 38

The room was cloaked in a warm, amber glow, the only light coming from the sliver of moonlight slipping through the cracked window blinds. The night air was still, thick with the heat of their shared passion. The scent of sweat, skin, and something unspoken lingered like smoke after a fire.

Mark lay on his side, completely bare, one arm tucked beneath his head as he stared at the woman beside him—his woman now, in every way that mattered. Ronnie was lying on her stomach, the sheet tangled around her hips, the rest of her body exposed in the low light. Her back rose and fell in soft, rhythmic movements as she slept soundly, oblivious to his gaze.

Her platinum blonde hair was wild, messy from where his fingers had fisted in it earlier, but still breathtaking. It spilled like silver silk across her shoulders and down her back, the ends curling slightly with the weight of humidity and sleep. Her arms were tucked under the pillow, her delicate fingers barely peeking out. Her face—God, her face—was peaceful in a way Mark had never seen before.

He took a slow breath, like he was afraid of waking her. His eyes drank her in, tracing the dark arch of her eyebrows, the gentle curve of her nose, the softness of her full lips slightly parted as she dreamed. She looked younger like this. Softer. But still undeniably strong.

His gaze lowered, following the elegant line of her neck, down to the gentle dip of her shoulder blades. He watched the subtle pulse beneath her skin, a steady thrum that somehow reassured him—she was real. She was alive. And she was his.

Mark reached out, brushing his fingers lightly down the back of her neck, letting them trail with ghost-like precision over the delicate curve of her spine. Goosebumps appeared along her skin, but she didn’t stir. He smiled faintly to himself.

Her tattoo came into view, it was inked in soft black—an abstract mix of florals and geometric lines that seemed to perfectly represent her. Beautiful but complex. Bold but graceful.

And just like that, the fire inside him ignited again.

It wasn’t about lust, not just that. It was something deeper. A craving to be close, to be inside her again. To feel her heartbeat against his. To remind her—and maybe himself—that she wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

Mark leaned over her, lowering himself so his lips barely grazed her neck. He pressed a soft kiss against the nape, tasting the salt of her skin, then slowly made his way downward. Each kiss was reverent, deliberate, worshipful. Down the gentle dip of her spine, along the edge of her tattoo.

Ronnie stirred slightly, a soft breath escaping her lips as his mouth moved lower. Her hips shifted against the sheets, a slow awakening beginning to ripple through her body.

Mark kissed the small of her back, then rested his forehead against her warm skin, closing his eyes.

He loved her.

He hadn’t said it out loud yet—not really. But it was there, pulsing in every breath, every touch, every moment he spent looking at her like she held his entire universe in her hands.

She sighed softly and murmured, “What’re you doing?”

Her voice was husky, still half-asleep, but teasing.

Mark lifted his head, his mouth curling into a slow grin. “Appreciating the view.”

Ronnie turned her head slightly, blinking up at him with one sleepy blue eye. Her lips curved into a smirk. “Mm… well, the view appreciates the attention.”

Mark chuckled, lowering himself so their bare bodies touched again, skin to skin. She moaned softly at the contact, her muscles flexing beneath him.

“I wasn’t done,” he murmured, trailing his fingers over her hip and down her thigh.

Ronnie stretched beneath him like a cat, arching her back slightly, giving him silent permission to continue.

“Good,” she whispered. “Because neither was I.”

Mark's hand trailed slowly down the length of her spine again, a featherlight touch that made Ronnie shiver beneath him. She shifted just slightly, tilting her hips up in silent invitation. The way her body moved—fluid, trusting—sent heat rushing through his veins.

He leaned over her, his mouth brushing her ear as he whispered, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Her response was soft, breathless, “I don’t.”

Mark’s hand slipped between her thighs, parting them gently. He heard the quiet gasp that escaped her lips as he teased her, testing her readiness—she was already aching for him. Her hips pushed back involuntarily, seeking him, craving the connection.

When he finally positioned himself behind her, there was a moment where everything held still. Mark paused, placing one hand on her hip, the other braced on the mattress beside her. He guided himself slowly to her entrance, his breath catching as her warmth wrapped around him.

Ronnie’s fingers curled into the pillow beneath her, her mouth falling open as he pressed forward inch by inch.

“Oh—God…” she breathed, voice trembling.

Mark groaned low in his throat, the feel of her tightness, the way her body adjusted to him—it was almost too much. He stilled, letting her adjust, leaning forward to press a kiss between her shoulder blades.

He waited, his body taut with restraint, muscles trembling as she slowly relaxed around him. She pushed back just a little, testing, and he groaned again, deeper this time, his head dropping as the pleasure flooded through him.

He pulled back slightly, then thrust forward again, slow and deep. Her breath caught, and she arched her back, matching his rhythm. Each stroke was deliberate, building pressure between them like the slow crescendo of a song only they could hear.

Mark’s hands gripped her hips, his fingers sinking into her skin as he moved harder, deeper. The sound of skin against skin echoed softly through the room, joined by the low moans and gasps that spilled freely from them both.

Ronnie pushed back to meet each thrust, the pleasure coiling inside her, tighter with each movement.

“Mark…” she gasped.

Her name on his lips came out like a prayer, like a promise. “You feel so damn perfect…”

She turned her head, their eyes meeting for a brief, electric moment. Her face flushed, her lips parted—she was wrecked and beautiful and so completely his.

Then she did something that caught him off guard. With a sly, wicked smirk, she shifted her weight, rolled them over, and climbed on top.

Mark barely had time to react before she sank back down onto him, both of them moaning in unison. His hands flew to her thighs, his mouth falling open as his head hit the pillow.

“Jesus, Ronnie—”

She started to move—slow, grinding rolls of her hips that drove him insane. Mark’s fingers clutched at the sheets, his eyes fluttering shut before snapping open again to look at her.

She was a vision above him—hair wild around her shoulders, skin glowing with sweat, her breasts bouncing with each movement. Her hands rested on his chest, nails digging into his skin as she rode him, taking full control.

He could barely breathe, the way she clenched around him, the heat, the intensity—it overwhelmed him.

“Veronica…” he moaned, his voice breaking. “God, you’re gonna kill me.”

She leaned down, kissed him hard, swallowed his groans with her mouth. Her rhythm sped up, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through them both.

Then, without warning, Mark gripped her waist and flipped them again, pinning her beneath him. She let out a surprised laugh that melted into a moan as he began thrusting harder, deeper, his lips on her throat, her collarbone, her chest.

He was relentless now, driven by the fire between them. Ronnie clawed at his back, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist, holding him close as their bodies moved in perfect sync.

The room was filled with their sounds—panting, gasping, whispered curses and promises. The sheets were twisted beneath them, the air heavy with heat and desire.

Ronnie’s cries grew louder, her body arching as she neared the edge again.

“Mark—please—don’t stop…”

“I’ve got you,” he whispered against her ear. “Come with me.”

And when they finally fell over that edge together, it was like the world split open.

Pleasure crashed through them in waves, their bodies trembling in each other’s arms. Mark held her tightly as the aftershocks rolled through them, brushing his lips over her hair, her temple, her jaw.

It was only then, when the fire had finally ebbed into a glowing warmth, that they collapsed into the tangled sheets, limbs entwined, breaths slowing.

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other, until sleep gently pulled them under once again.