Cruel Obsession Novels & Stories

My jaw clenched. Mira leaned back; her voice calm and dreamy. "All night long, I thought about him." She laughed again. "And now? I believe in love at first sight." I stared at her, mute. This lady—this pathetic, manipulative lady—stood before me, confessing that somehow, in less than twenty-four hours, she had developed this pretty sick obsession for Alexander,my man. One measured breath came, then the next. "You're delusional ," I said, freezing her in place with my glare. "This conversation never took place. You are going to respect my father, and we are both going to pretend you never said all this."

Asher leaned against a black Escalade with a cigarette between his fingers, and his eyes glowed red in the darkness—the telltale sign of an Alpha losing control. He stared at me like a predator watching prey that thought it had escaped. "Long time no see, baby."

“You wouldn’t…” “I would.” He nipped my earlobe, possessive and cruel. “I killed a man in front of you already. I came back covered in blood for you. Don’t test how far my obsession goes when it comes to keeping you. Behave, and they live. Simple.” I felt trapped. Vulnerable. Small. Yet the tension between our wet bodies refused to die. His hard muscles against my back, his possessive grip, the way his voice dropped into that filthy, obsessive tone- it all twisted something dark inside me I refused to name.

Alli stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat. She didn't blink, didn't move, holding her breath until her lungs burned and her head swam. Inside, her insides twistedinto a hard, tight knot of something hot and ugly. It wasn't heartbreak—not exactly, not yet. It was something messier, something more primal. It was the choking, humiliating twist of jealousy, sharp enough to make her want to smash a beer bottle against the wall, scream until her throat was raw and bleeding, and then

“Not anymore.” I felt trapped beneath him, completely and utterly caged. His body pressed into mine, firm and unyielding, while his eyes stared down at me with a fire that made my skin crawl. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even lust. It was obsession. Pure, raw, unfiltered madness disguised behind a broken man’s smile. “You don’t get it yet, do you?” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face like we were lovers in some twisted fairytale. “You think you’re still in control. That you’re still yours.”

“I'll fuck you with this knife until you're bleeding and broken… for me.” That jerk! Why does he find pleasure in seeing Kyle in pain like that? Is he a psychopath or something? But why am I drawn to this? Why am I still watching this, observing Kyle, and stroking myself so frantically, even wishing he bleeds and breaks. And who knows what Maddox's filthy words are doing to me. They're driving me crazy at this point. I rolled my eyes, groaning as I squeezed my leaking dick inside my shorts. “Look at you, taking a knife like a good boy,” Maddox smirked, his other hand gripping Kyle’s small waist.

A dark stain spread across my chest. "Son of a—" I cursed low through gritted teeth. I watched him stroll off, so fucking proud. His shoulders stayed straight. His steps confident. I looked at the mess. Though not big, it was so damn obvious and embarrassing. The coffee smell now mixed with the alcohol felt much stronger on my clothes.

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

“And he looks pissed." “He’s not my stalker,” I said too fast. “He’s just… persistent." “Persistent is one word for it,” Kevin muttered. “Obsessed is another." Before I could tell him to shut up, a shadow fell over our table. Alexander didn’t sit. He just dropped a bottle of water on my tray. Cold. Condensation dripping down the side. “You didn’t drink anything,” he said. Voice flat. “I’m not thirsty." “Liar,” he said again. Same as before. Then he looked at Kevin. “You done?"

What had left him with a lasting impression he would be unable to forget were the gazes of several individuals identified as threats of the highest order. The gazes that even now he could remember all too clearly. The gazes that spoke of one thing - the same thing he now found within Levi’s gaze, the same thing that evoked a feeling of profound dread in Trey - Obsession. An overpowering, reckless, fanatical fixation that knew no bounds nor reason. A reckless infatuation from a maniac that would stop at nothing to realize their own obsession, rendering everything and everyone, including themselves, expendable. That focused gaze could only see one thing and one thing alone - the only thing tha