Driving My Obsession Novels & Stories

“Yes.” “You knew I was going to research you and prepare to betray you.” “Yes.” “And you hired me anyway.” “Because you’re the only person I’ve ever met who doesn’t need me to survive. You’d survive without me. You’d survive without anyone.” He reached up and touched her face like he was remembering what skin felt like. “And the moment I realized that, I understood I was going to lose my mind if you left.” She understood, in that moment, what obsession actually meant. It wasn’t passion. It wasn’t love in any traditional sense. It was the recognition that someone could exist without you and choosing to make them your reason to exist anyway.

"But if I see you with a piece of glass again, I’ll show you exactly why they call me the Butcher." I walked out, locking the door from the outside. I leaned my head against the wood, closing my eyes. My hands were shaking, not from fear but from the sheer, suffocating weight of an obsession I hadn't realized was this deep. I hadn't just bought a Prince. I had bought a wildfire. And I was starting to think I was the one who was going to get burned.

(Sebastian 's POV) The city was a blur as I drove, the rain slick streets reflecting neon like shards of broken glass. Vanessa had overstepped. Adrian had dared to flirt. And now, both had the audacity to think they could challenge me for her attention—or worse, her trust. I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. Every fiber of me burned with a singular obsession: Ocean. She wasn’t just the woman I wanted. She was the woman I needed. And anyone who came near her without my consent would pay—severely.

I leaned back, staring out at the house one last time. “She’ll remember,” I muttered under my breath, fingers tapping the steering wheel. “She’ll remember me. All of me.” The guards stayed at the gate, silent but tense, as I started the engine. “Drive carefully,” the first guard warned the driver, eyes never leaving mine. “Don’t tell me what to do,” I muttered, voice low and dangerous. The car rolled backward, headlights cutting through the dark driveway, and I glanced at the house one last time. Megan. My obsession. My possession.

He had a need for speed. "Well, I think he's developed some kind of obsession with Jessica, hence the reason for his plan for an early visit,” Kanyon explained. Cameron sneered and gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white. "That undead piece of shit,” he cursed as he stepped on the gas. "Are you sure you're alright to drive? I could take over for a while," Kanyon offered. "Nah. I'm good. I need something to focus all this pent up energy on. So I think I'll continue driving,” he let out a breath.

I continue. "I don’t know," he responds after a long pause. "I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me lately, but every time I look at you, I want to monopolize you. The thought of you being with another man drives me crazy. You’re on my mind all the damn time, even if I don’t want you there, and when I tell myself I’ll just forget you, I can’t. What the hell would you even call this? Obsession? Infatuation? Would it be like? It’s all new to me."

“Now? I probably drink until I forget. Or until I hate him enough to stop caring.” “That doesn’t sound healthy.” I let the silence settle between us. The bar’s dim lights painted shadows on the floor, and my buzz was just strong enough to make everything blur at the edges. I leaned forward again, fingers toying with the condensation on my glass. “You ever get so obsessed with someone,” I murmured, “that it’s not even about them anymore? It’s about how they make you feel. How they pull out the ugliest parts of you, and you still keep crawling back like a sick little dog looking for scraps.”

I continue. "I don’t know," he responds after a long pause. "I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me lately, but every time I look at you, I want to monopolize you. The thought of you being with another man drives me crazy. You’re on my mind all the damn time, even if I don’t want you there, and when I tell myself I’ll just forget you, I can’t. What the hell would you even call this? Obsession? Infatuation? Would it be like? It’s all new to me."

I thumped my head back against the seat once, hard enough to rattle the frame. “This is a problem,” I said aloud. And for the first time since I met her, I was actually afraid of what that meant. I drove the rest of the way home with my jaw clenched, every mile putting distance between me and the house, but none between me and her. Thoughts of her followed me the whole way. By the time I pulled into my driveway, one truth had settled so deeply into me it felt carved into my soul: I was completely obsessed with Zoella Ivy Monroe.

“No, I’m not into this kind of stuff, but as I said, I was a very bad boy, and she punished me for it.” I said, winking at the other doctor, making him even more confused, and stood up to clean myself and get ready for our next surgery while my friend sat there dumbfounded. After three hours, I was in the car as Sergey drove us home and back to the mansion while I closed my eyes and dozed off a little. But suddenly I felt a hand pushing against my chest harshly and I opened my eyes to find Sergey driving the car and we were speeding up. “What the fuck is happening?”