Obsession Rose Novels & Stories

I gawked at her, “What is it to you, Rose? You don't even like him; this is just some crazy obsession that you have.” Veins bulged on her forehead and neck, pulsing with rage. Her gaze was venomous, “You know the worst thing about having an obsession? If I don't have him, nobody can.” I stood up to her, "That obsession - would kill you."

“I… I don’t want you to stop. Not ever.” His hands went to my waist, pulling me close. “Good,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to mine. “Because I’m obsessed with you. Completely. And I will show you exactly what that obsession means tonight.” Back at the penthouse, we didn’t wait. Every kiss, every touch, every whisper became a battle of possession and surrender. Sebastian’s hands memorized me, claimed me, burned into me with the intensity of his obsession. I responded in kind, trembling under his control, craving every moment, every edge of danger and desire.

The answer eluded me, leaving me to grapple with my uncertainty and apprehension. What troubled me most was the inexplicable obsession Rose seemed to have with me—a fixation that bordered on the obsessive, fueled by a relentless determination to insert herself into our lives at every turn. Whether it was her sudden appearances at our doorstep or her cryptic messages delivered through intermediaries, Rose's presence loomed over us like a specter from the past, haunting our every move with an unsettling sense of foreboding.

Or was it not a sweven? She could still imagine that very moment in their P.E.class when her whole body gradually hardened and somehow she herself was turning to a…to a rose. Not just a rose, a blood rose. Or was it just an ordinary rose? She’d never seen an actual blood rose before anyway and Rozelyn bet that it was far more different than any other roses. It possesses such extraordinary abilities and so it shall also possess an extraordinary appearance. She licked the blood from her finger, making her tongue taste the blood that it had been craving.

Maybe am just as sick as he is! Desperately needing the rose as my mind begins to conjure up all kinds of filthy things as my pussy walls begins to clench, I gripped the base of the rose and positioned it at the entrance of my soaked and throbbing pussy, knowing this madness originated from trying to provoke my stalker to my own ballant obsession of him. I press the button on the rose, yes! It came with a battery! A didlo would have been perfect but I haven’t had sex before so it’s not like I could fuck

I've only been here a little over two weeks and I feel like I'm losing my mind. I actually lost my mind a long time ago, but now, I was just falling deeper and deeper into insanity and I think it has to do with the fact that I was becoming obsessed with Kitty. I had created this entire thing in my head that I knew wasn't normal but I couldn't stop it. "Because of Kitty," I repeated to Mason once again and he shook his head as he chuckled and moved away, his hands covered in my blood. "Kitty will be the death of you, Prisoner VII," Mason said as he washed his hands in the basin, "you really going through all of this for her? Who's running the drug industry if you're here in this place?"

“But I can’t just let her have you, Ashton! I love you!” “No, you don’t! You love the idea of me! You’re afraid of losing control!” I answered with irritation. “This obsession is sick, Rose!” “I just want you back!” she cried as she walked closer to me, putting her hands on my shoulders. “Can’t you see? I’m desperate!”

They both spun around. Isabelle emerged from behind the rose trellis, Victoria trailing behind her like a shadow. Isabelle's heels clicked against the stone path as she approached, her expression dripping with false sweetness and genuine malice. "Well, well, well," Isabelle drawled, clapping again. "How touching. How absolutely precious." She stopped a few feet away, arms crossed. "Why is the supposed maid out here having fun? Aren't you supposed to be cleaning? Scrubbing toilets? Doing what I told you about?"

But then I saw it. A dress on a mannequin. Soft pink. Subtle detail work. Balanced. Clean. I don't know why, but I knew. I glanced back. Lily was standing in front of the mirror, frowning slightly. Unsure. Overthinking. *"Lily,"* I called. *"Try this one."* She turned, clearly surprised. She didn't expect me to participate. *"Hurry up."* She looked at the dress. Her eyes widened just a fraction.

Damn, I didn't ask to play! I am stashed behind the kitchen curtains, and I watch the show, and I like what I see. A beautiful woman that beauty has not left by the side of the road. She is wearing a yellow dress. Excess of coquetry? Need to be seen and admired over and over again? It seems like it is working just fine. I see her. She reminds me of femininity, and chills run through down my spine without being able to refrain them. They go too fast for me, just like my thoughts. I find it hard to focus on anything other than this woman. I do not know her. She doesn't see me from the top of the third floor, and yet I spy on her like a teenager would observe a classmate from the corner of his