Pathological Obsession Novels & Stories

In the darkness, she promised herself that she was going to make him regret ever taking her. Serena had spent hours in the dark, her wrists were aching and her mind was racing. She replayed everything she knew about Lucian Moretti. She had heard he was Ruthless and Calculating but most of all, Dangerous. He wasn’t just another enemy in her father’s long list of rivals, he was the kind of man who didn’t play fair.

He didn't know what she had been doing to him these days but he could see that he was loosing control. That was the last thing he wanted. He was supposed to be in control while she begged and pleaded with him. He had been the one to propose this offer in the first place, so everything about it should be his call. He was still consumed in his thoughts when he felt cold air rush against his skin. He looked down to see that his shirt was no longer on him and his pants were now at his ankle and Leila was working on drawing down his boxers. He heaved a huge sigh. He was getting addicted to her. He needed to fight this addiction before it took over his power over her and make him lost to her. Perh

All he could do was command them to do it the way he wanted it but their effort was always useless because he ends up going to bed with them with lust and not love. What he was feeling now, he knew it wasn't lust, he knew his feeling was something he had gotten the time to find out what it could be. The strangest thing was that he was so damn turned on even though she didn’t even do anything to him at all. In fact, she did the opposite of what he wanted her to do! For the first time, he felt impatient and his desire was starting to take control. This was not him at all.

"I know how guys think and those three were just too suggestive. I don't want anyone saying this was some sort of orgy or something." Satisfied with the day's work, the group went to get dressed for the trip back to Sparta. Meanwhile, in a rented house a few miles away from the house with the pool, six men gathered around an old wooden table. "We have almost all of the pieces in place. Soon you will change the course of history. We have only to select a target and determine the best day to strike. These Americans are lazy and soft. We shall have no obstacles in attaining our goals. You will be famous for all time, My Brothers." "Fame is not my goal," replied a large man with a swarthy beard

Her response showed her emotions making her voice unstable, she hurriedly walked out of the ward and I could hear the sound of her heels on the corridors as the sound faded slowly away, I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes once again Suddenly, I jerked off from the bed, bowing my head in frustration, pulling my black thick hair, like I wanted it off my head, her teary eyes hunted my imagination like I could see her in front of me, her soprano pitch voice filled with fear, her pleading didn't leave my ears, and I couldn't stand to see her get hurt, she's so different from other ladies I had encountered in life as a mafia king, would I be harming the wrong person, I thought to myself, I

He didn't receive the love and care of his parents, it was only Emmanuel that stood by him through thick and thin and now she's the only one who has the rights to speak to him anyhow and go scot-free. He walked up to your room and gently placed her on the bed. Richard's bedroom was neat and tidy, every item in its place. His closet was organized by color and style, and his dresser was perfectly aligned with his bedside table. There wasn't a speck of dust to be found, and even the light bulbs were dusted and shining brightly. Richard had always been a bit of a clean freak, but it had intensified as he got older. He felt like he needed everything to be just so, or else his whole world would fa

“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.

To anything that would help me drown out his voice echoing in my head. “You’re pathetic.” That one stuck. It played on loop like a curse. Because I knew he was right. Maybe this obsession I had with him—this reckless, spiraling need to have him—wasn’t desire. Maybe it was a sickness. One that consumed every part of me until I didn’t recognize myself anymore. I tried to remember what happened after the club. There were pieces, scattered like broken glass. Laughter. Loud music. A drink too many. A face—his face?

It ruins the landscape. In fact, no, why put me down in this mishap? Why should I still feel guilty for asking you to erase what connects us? You told me that the two of us " would be forever." I now remain deaf to this form of blackmail. Yes, that's blackmail, Paul. What the hell did you imagine? That you could continue to own my body and soul until the end of time? You are very selfish, let me tell you. Are you only aware of my own desires? No, I am correcting myself—my absence of lust. When you approach me, I see myself as a little girl on a merry-go-round. My mother insisted, but I would die of vertigo. Your triple-digit perfumes can get sniffed through other nostrils.