An Obsessed Novella
by Jeanne St. James
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance/Erotica
This is not just a love story, it’s an obsession…
I can’t keep my eyes off the tall, dark, and confident man who stops in the coffee shop every morning. I want this stranger more than I’ve ever wanted anyone before, even though I only know his first name. As an author, my imagination is my ultimate writing tool, men like Kane my muse. And the minute he leaves, I’m overcome with fantasies I can’t control and my fingers fly across the keyboard … until one day, I almost snap. My embarrassing outburst has me running out the door when he catches me and takes me to his home.
Though it’s risky, I can’t resist him. And with one kiss, he now owns me. This man will capture my sanity and trap it forever. He’ll steal me one piece at a time until he possesses me completely. He’ll ruin me for any other man. But I don’t want anyone else, for it’ll always be forever him.
Note: All books in the Obsessed series are stand-alone novellas. It is intended for audiences over 18 years of age since it includes explicit sexual situations, including BDSM.
His kiss dominates me. Takes control of my body from head to toe. It makes the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge.
With one kiss, he now owns me.
He cups my face as he breaks the contact, moving only enough so I can speak. But still only a breath away.
Just a breath. I don’t move. I can’t. I open my eyes and meet his. His blue eyes make me shiver because they are shadowed, unreadable. And completely disturbing.
“Again,” I whisper.
With a slight curl to his lips, he presses them against mine once more, this time more gently. Our tongues tangle, and I lay my hands on his chest. I place one directly over his heart so I can feel it beating under my palm. His races as fast as mine. Not a steady beat, but a pounding tattoo.
As he moves down my jawline, I tilt my head to offer my neck. His tongue, warm and wet, slides down the side of my throat making me almost purr. My nipples have turned into painful peaks, and I want him to touch them, suck them.
I don’t even know this guy’s last name.
But as his hands shift down to my shoulders, I realize I couldn't care less. His legal name could be Kane with a K, and I wouldn’t give a flying fuck.
“What else do you want, Lila?”
Again with the questions. I don’t want to tell him. I want him to know my needs. He’s forcing me to think, to acknowledge that I want this stranger more than I’ve ever wanted anyone before.
This connection, this draw, makes no sense. It’s heady, almost intoxicating.
He smells good. Dark spices, tangy. Right then, I know I need to taste him. Does he taste like he smells? Like an exotic dish that tantalizes my senses?
I inhale him deep into my lungs and say, “I want to take you into my mouth.”
Without a word, he straightens and steps back from me. If I thought his eyes appeared dark before, they’re even darker now. Dangerous and stormy.
He’s no longer looking like a satisfied kitten who drank a dish of milk. He’s back to that lion stalking his prey as he watches me carefully, cautiously.
Most men I know would have had their pants down and their cocks out before the offer was even finished. Not this man. He stands stock still and studies me, making me want to squirm.
Then suddenly one corner of his mouth lifts, and he offers me his hand. “We’ll skip the coffee.”
I ignore his hand and push myself off the stool and drop to my knees in front of him. Right on the kitchen floor. I reach for his belt buckle, and his hands fall to his sides as his stance widens. I glance up his body and see him watching me quietly. His expression unreadable.
I will see what I can do to change that. My fingers are trembling so I fumble a bit until I can unhook the buckle and unfasten his slacks. I slowly slide his zipper down and stare at the juncture of his open pants with anticipation. It’s like Christmas morning.
I’m ready to unwrap my gift.
Since his stance is wide and his thighs are muscular and thick, his pants fall only past his hips. His boxer briefs are blue like his eyes and, from what I can see, he certainly is going to be giving me a very, very nice gift.
I swallow hard and try to control my breathing as I run my fingers down the cotton covering his bulge. I want to see him. I want to hold him, but I’m enjoying the anticipation of the unknown.
He doesn’t move or make a sound as I cup him within my palm and feel the weight and heat of his balls tucked within his briefs. I glance up again. Still no reaction. I slide my fingers in and along the elastic waistband and slowly reveal what I’ve been waiting for.
My mouth waters at the sight of precum beading at the crown of his cock. I dart my tongue out to capture it. The salty goodness tastes like heaven, and my eyelids flutter shut. My pussy is wet and clenching, desperate to have his hard length, his thick girth within me.
He tucks a finger under my chin and lifts my face to him. “Look at me while you take me into your mouth.”
I do. My gaze never wavers as I wrap my lips around the head. The only sign on his face is a slight movement, a very tiny twitch near his right eye. Not the reaction I’m looking for. But I’ve only just begun.
I wrap my fingers around the root of his cock and squeeze. I can’t continue to look at him. I need to concentrate on making him break.
Deeper and deeper, I take as much of him as possible. My lips stretching, my tongue sliding, my mouth sucking. My eyes flick upward when I hear a noise. I didn’t imagine it, but he still isn’t showing me any reaction. He’s keeping himself together, his control solid.
Now more determined, I run my tongue up the thick vein, capture the head in my mouth, suck harder, before lightly scraping my teeth over the most sensitive area.
My own actions make me ache for him, wet for him. Instead of stretching my lips, I want him to stretch me inside, fill me completely.
I take another pass from the root to the tip and his hips jerk. No, not a jerk, only a slight twitch. The man seems to be made of steel. Immune to the wet heat of my mouth, the softness of my tongue.
Another twitch, another sound. He’s letting his façade slip. His hands dig into my hair, pulling it tight, making my scalp scream. I lift my gaze enough to see his eyes, now hooded, his lips slightly parted. His fingers clench and unclench in my hair following the same rhythm of my movement.
I slide my mouth up and down faster, and I finally hear his breathing become ragged, shallow. I want to smile my triumph, but I can’t since he remains hard and long and thick within my mouth.
His thrusts start small, shallow, as he pulls my head towards him. I fight my panic as he bumps the back of my throat over and over. I swallow and breathe through my nose, my eyes water. I relax my throat, and I still can’t take all of him. It’s uncomfortable, but I want to see him break. I want to be the one to bring a look of unadulterated pleasure to his face. I want to hear him cry out my name.
As a tear rolls from the corner of my eye, I peek up at him again. His eyes squeeze shut, his jaw tightens, his lips press together. When a low moan escapes him, his eyes pop open, and he catches me watching him. His eyes darken as he holds my gaze, his chest heaves as my name escapes his lips.
And as his body tenses against me, he’s about to fall apart. About to come undone.
“Lila… Lila… Lila,” he chants on each breath. A raw sound escapes him, and then he grits his teeth and releases his hot, salty cum at the back of my throat. He still has a death grip on my head, holding me tightly as his cock pulsates on my tongue. And I accept all of him.
Because he’s mine.
He just doesn’t realize it yet.
JEANNE ST. JAMES is an erotic romance author who loves an Alpha male (or two). She was only 13 when she started writing since it gave her an escape from teenage angst! Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages.
She has a few new releases coming up in 2017. So keep an eye on her website at www.jeannestjames.com or sign up for her newsletter here.