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."

“Always. Completely. And I’ll show you exactly what that means.” The night stretched on in waves of desire and possession. Sebastian’s hands memorized me, claimed me, and ignited a fire in every inch of my body. Each whisper, each dark murmur, each touch was a reminder of his obsession, his need, and his promise to keep me untouchable and utterly his. Even in moments of surrender, there was no doubt who held the power. Sebastian’s obsession was all-consuming, intoxicating, and dangerously addictive. And I? I was utterly addicted.

Just seeing her keep him at arm's length felt like he was bludgeoned in the chest, and he clenched his knuckles as he asked, "And you're not going to ask who's been caring for her?" Rosalyn was staring at the pot of flowers on her old desk. It was Laura's favorite flower, and she had given a pot to Rosalyn, but she ended up letting it wilt. Still, she simply kept buying more, and she had already lost count how many pots there were. Just as it became clear that this pot wasn't going to survive either, she came to realize that obsession was nothing more than self-deceit. It looked like the same flower, but it wasn't actually so.

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

She uttered while pecking his nose bridge and then finally gazed into his silver gaze. "You made me your obsessor, Arzal. An obsessor who's in need and desires to be your obsession because… " She halted and pecked his lips. "Your obsession is more beautiful than any kind of love and that is the reason I had never asked you that whether you loved me or not, in our past," Arzal silently heard her and then saw her beaming. "Because I have understood your love could leave me broken but your obsession won't even think about leaving my broken pieces,"

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."

“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?"