Deadly Obsession Novels & Stories

It has actually became too late! He tightened his grip around my waist and pulled me closer to his chest, tilting his head right to left, warning me not to move away from him. I am not going to lie, I was terrified at the time. The way he held me in his iron grip indicated that he has no plans to leave me anytime soon. Furthermore, the way he has planned everything to trap me in his web demonstrates how desperately he wants me. I could see that deadly obsession in his eyes, which made me shiver in my place.

At this moment, I had no strength to fight them but to just do their bidding. I wanted Jamie to get well before I did anything. It would be better that way. As I scrolled through the deathboard, I realized that Gustavo wasn't even on the board but there was a name that was placed at the highest bid on the top slot. Why on earth would anyone want Christopher killed?

RIVER How do you feel when someone you love deeply chooses his best friend over you? How worse can it be for me? Now, I am almost losing my sanity but everything changes when I find myself in an unknown room and my heart dies in my chest when I see my ex's favourite biker — the one he has always been obsessed with, in between my legs and a dark glint on his lips. *** A big smile crawls up my face when Ryker's message pops up on my phone's screen.

Slamming my cock down her throat with a ferocity that was terrifying even to her, my cock hardened in her throat, stretching it even harder and I watched with pleasure as her eyeballs rolled so far back that only the white part of her eyes were all I could see. Ah, why am I doing this to her again? Because I’m obsessed with her? No, I don’t think obsession is the right word to use. I want to kill her, everytime I see her, I’m overwhelmed with not just the thought of dominating her but having her breathe her last with my cock inside her. Yes, that’s it. Every fucking day of my life for one month has been dedicated to following her, studying her every move, knowing her routine and for a girl a

“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?"

He didn’t leave; instead, he took another look and readjusted it. “Perfect,” he muttered, a bit satisfied. Then he turned to strut towards his chair and sat on the bench. “I’ll give you another warning, Dorothy.” “Don’t touch things without permission.” I swallowed hard. He could see through my lies and didn’t point it out. And whatever he had noticed stands right before him. Swiftly, he arranged his desk with calculative moves. I watched every movement. Uncle Sebastien wasn’t just a perfectionist; he loves things being in order in an obsessive manner, probably.

He stood over me, head tilted slightly, dark eyes burning with something intense I didn’t want to name. “You hesitated,” he murmured, voice low and lethal. I swallowed hard, the motion making me hyper-aware of my pulse hammering in my throat. He was still too close, watching me like he was waiting for me to make another mistake. “You do that in the real world,” he breathed, leaning down so his breath ghosted across my cheek, “and you die.” His lips twitched into the faintest, cruelest smirk. “Or,” he added, voice a dark promise, “something worse happens.”

Obsession isn’t something you choose. It chooses you. Wraps around your soul like a vice, squeezing until there’s nothing left but the sickness of wanting. It seeps into your blood, replacing logic, making you something… else. Something monstrous. And fuck… I like it the more I watch her.

“Let’s just work on the project. Romeo and Juliet, right?” He groaned. “God, not that one. Can we pick anything else? Wuthering Heights, maybe? Something where they destroy each other with passion and rage instead of poison and teenage melodrama.” I smiled despite myself. “You’re oddly poetic for a guy who looks like he doesn’t believe in love.” He leaned closer, the grin gone. “I don’t. But I believe in obsession.” Something in my stomach twisted. Dangerous. That’s what he was. All warning signs, and I was already ignoring them.

His expression darkens… beautifully, dangerously. “My darkest obsession,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against mine without fully kissing me, “is you.” And because he decides to let it sink in my head, he repeats, this time more deadly, more sensual, more dangerous.. “Elena, you're my darkest obsession.” Then he pulls my lips into his.