Books On Obsession Novels & Stories

The straw finally snapped between my fingers on the forty-third twist. There's a name for what I have: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Why I didn't tell Nico I have OCD I'll never know. Maybe it's because I'm keenly aware of how crazy I am. My main obsession is numbers. I count everything, how many twists it takes to break a straw or how many steps I take to and from class. My compulsion is having to touch things seven times to make everything all right. The anxiety on top of OCD was just a perk. "Oh my God, you've never been to a football game?" she asked incredulously. "That's a sacrilege at this school."

***Warning: The following stories are 18+ and contain content that may offend, disturb, and trigger some readers. These include physical, mental, and emotional abuse, as well as physical and sexual violence, and drug references. Read at your own risk... Isadora was a second-year student, and Miles was her professor. His love for her was forbidden and bordered on obsession. She felt trapped with no one to turn to. Until the substitute Professor Rhett enters... CHAPTER ONE - THE BEGINNING

"I know how guys think and those three were just too suggestive. I don't want anyone saying this was some sort of orgy or something." Satisfied with the day's work, the group went to get dressed for the trip back to Sparta. Meanwhile, in a rented house a few miles away from the house with the pool, six men gathered around an old wooden table. "We have almost all of the pieces in place. Soon you will change the course of history. We have only to select a target and determine the best day to strike. These Americans are lazy and soft. We shall have no obstacles in attaining our goals. You will be famous for all time, My Brothers." "Fame is not my goal," replied a large man with a swarthy beard

Perhaps, a few days away from her was going to do the trick. He felt a shiver run through him as something warm encompassed his cock. He looked down to see Leila working him vigorously with her mouth. He growled dangerously and grabbed her auburn hair pulling her backwards. His cock fell out of her mouth and stood at attention. His eyes flashed as he looked down at her from his lofty position. "I fucking told you to be obedient and only do as I say." He told her and growled at her furiously. It wasn't that he wasn't pleased with the way she had done, what he feared most was that he was going to get used to her. And that was the last thing he wanted.

I dоn’t need іѕ tо ѕреnd аnоthеr mоmеnt оf energy оn ѕоmеоnе whо won’t treat me wеll, but I саn’t hеlр mуѕеlf. Agаіn, I wоndеr аbоut оbѕеѕѕіоn and whу thе tеntасlеѕ rеасh іntо every аѕресt of my lіfе.

Instead, it had turned waiting into its own quiet affliction, and I had never been a man who counted time this way, not for a person, not for anticipation that lived too close to hope. And yet by Thursday, I could have told you exactly how many candles had burned down in the side chapel since she left, the numbers of masses I had stood through without seeing her in the third pew on the right. How many times my gaze had moved to the church doors before I'd caught myself. I had become observant in all the wrong directions, and I knew, better than most, that observation left unchecked was only ever the first step toward something worse. (Obsession)That was the word I refused to use — even in si

“Who is in control?” I gasp and moan at the fiery pleasure-pain as another orgasm rolls through my body. “You,” I say, not recognizing the sound of my own voice. “You’re in charge. Ohh…” “Daddy. Say, ‘you’re in charge, Daddy.’” My pussy clenches around his fingers at the taboo command. I’ve read my fair share of sexy books, and secretly love BDSM books. I may be a virgin but I’m far from naïve. One of my favorite independent authors writes books with daddy doms and I’ve always been intrigued. I often imagine myself in the heroine’s shoes… now is my chance to live out one of my most secret fantasies.

The chill slid up my spine, while his calm presence clashed with my storm. "Did my words annoy you?" he asked in a low, rough voice, tight like a pulled string. I rolled my eyes sharply and turned my face away. I ignored him. His hand reached for my chin, turning my face back to him with terrifying calm. "Do not roll your pretty eyes at me like that, Amara." he whispered, his hot breath brushing my skin. "Mr. Dorian, why are you so obsessed with putting me on counters? I have two perfectly good feet. I can stand."

It was an image of Scarlet’s face. Caitlin felt her stomach roll with anguish. How had her daughter’s face come to be on this ancient text in a lost vampire library? Once again, she thought of destiny. It was as though everything had already been decided. No, it was more than that. If felt as though everything that was happening now had already happened before, as if they were living in a constant loop with history swirling round and round, repeating ad infinitum. The life she was living was just one cycle, one in which the outcome had been predicted before, but was not set in stone. She could change the premonitions and prophecies. Whatever was supposed to happen, she still had control over

But what could she say that wouldn't sound insane? Instead, she drove home and spent the afternoon poring over the texts, making notes, cross-referencing accounts. Every story followed the same pattern: vision, obsession, loss. The cobra always showed true futures, but the act of pursuing those visions with too much intensity invariably led to their destruction.