Fixated (5 page)

That didn't last long. We couldn't breathe
without each other. We needed to fuck each other's brains every
chance we got. Soon, we were engaged.

Then my secret with my 'father' came out. And
everything started to go downhill.

Not in my wildest dreams did I imagine today
would go as it did. Sure, when I got on the plane to come to
Connecticut, I had that feeling that I was about to become involved
in something bigger than myself. But Drake getting married? To
Nicole? Not in a million years could I have imagined that.

I sigh with relief when I finally reach the
stairs that lead to my apartment. Absentmindedly, I wonder if
Krystal was able to have someone bring along the small luggage I
came with. The thought of clean, familiar clothes after a scalding
hot shower is all that’s on my mind as I slip the key into the hole
and push the door back.

The roaring wind closes the door behind me
with a loud bang. The lights flicker to life, startling me, but I
still take in everything about the apartment. The living room is a
nice size, and a series of lamp bathe the place in warm orange
light. The ceiling is high and made of polished wood, the
furnishings are in a soft burgundy color, and it matches well with
the black glass and polished wood theme. It’s beautiful-

I draw a sharp breath the instant I notice
another presence in the room. It doesn’t take long for his scent to
hit my nostrils, and every inch of my body fires up in
response.

I stumble until my back hits the door. I
can’t believe my eyes.

Drake is here. Before me.

He’s seriously underdressed in black slacks
and a V-neck long-sleeved polo. He looks a mess too. Tousled hair,
swollen eyes, and blushed skin. His chest rises and falls heavily,
and his fists are clenched as he glowers at me, directing all that
energy at me. Taunting me. Burning my soul.

Suddenly, he steps forward, stops a few feet
from me, and begins doing his predatory stalking thing around
me.

I start trembling, my mind dissolving into
chaos. What the fuck is he doing here? Now it hits me why he wasn’t
at his wedding reception. He was here waiting for me the entire
time. And he’s been busy.

Someone must have delivered my luggage,
because from where I’m standing, I can see Drake has really been
busy. He has emptied my luggage. My shoes, clothes, and accessories
are scattered all over the couches and tables as if he has been
examining each item. My books and diaries are open; and it’s
obvious he’s been reading them.

But that’s not what makes me almost collapse
to the floor with desire. It's the sight of my worn panties rumpled
in his hand in a way that shows he has been burying his nose in it.
I want to beg him to bury his nose and skilled mouth in between my
legs. Oh god, I want him so badly. I hug myself, finding it hard to
think coherently.

Knowing that he’s watching me and absorbing
my every move as his blood pumps with anger for me is so damn
fucking erotic. I squeeze my thighs together as the pressure
intensifies in my belly and my wetness begins to flow. Can we just
fuck? I don’t want to talk, or think, or do anything else for that
matter. I just want him to fuck me mad.

“Where. Have. You. Been?” Drake thunders.
“For three years, I searched everywhere for you. Where the fuck
were you?” He screams so loudly that his voice reverberates through
the apartment, slicing through the sound of the wind and drizzling
rain.

Confusion slips past sexual desire. Where
have I been? Why does he care? I know he hates being ignored so I
do just that. I focus on anything else in the room as I very slowly
remove my coat. I’m not surprised by how handicapped I’m behaving
in his presence; he’s always been able to do that to me. It’s as if
that small action has become as difficult as diffusing a bomb.

“Answer me! You better fucking answer me,
Scarlett!” he shouts with desperation, squeezing his fists so hard
that every vein in his muscular biceps look as if they are about to
pop.

This stirs something deep within me. What
gives him the right to walk in here and demand answers from me?
Shouldn’t it be the other way around? “You are fucking with me,
right?” I burst out, suddenly feeling as if my mental band is going
to snap because of the events of the day. What is all this shit
about where have I been? I left because he wanted me to!

“What did you say?” he thunders and suddenly
starts banging his fist against his forehead. Over and over, he
hits himself as he screams my name repeatedly while he paces the
room like a wounded animal. “You talk as if this … all of this, was
fine to you. How could you do this to me, Scarlett? How could you
leave me? You of all people!”

Red charges through my vision, and I just
can’t control myself. “Hey! Cut the bullshit, all right? I left
because you asked me to leave-“

His face falls completely blank. “I asked you
to leave?” he repeats, bewildered. “You … hateful, evil-“

“What? Bitch? Go ahead and call me a bitch,”
I shout.

“I hate you. I swear to God, I hate you! How
can you stand there and tell me that stupid worthless fight was why
you gave up on us? Does that make any fucking sense to you?”

“Yes! Fucking yes.” Hot tears fall down my
cheeks as memories of his angry words cutting through my soul that
night on the beach come back. “You ended it that night. You have no
right to look at me like that, or come in here like this! You,
Drake, are the one who’s getting married or is married, or
whatever!”

With a crazed bellow, he launches his fist
into a glass shelf, shattering it into pieces. He lets out a pained
groan and I’m not surprised when I see the bright red color of
blood on his hand. “You knew I was getting married and you didn’t
try to stop me?” he says. “How dare you-“

“How dare I what?” I can’t stand still
anymore. Digging my hands into my hair, I begin to pace the
room.

He charges towards me with startling speed,
forcing me to stumble back. For the quickest of seconds, I see a
look in his eyes that convey how badly he wants to hurt me.

I understand it, because I want to hurt him
too. I wonder if he will hit me. Our turbulent relationship has had
its share of violence, even though he has always been the one on
the receiving end. Suddenly, I remember the time I stabbed him with
my fork and he refused to let anyone treat the wound except me.
Drake said if I wanted him to bleed to death that was fine; that he
didn’t want to live if I didn’t want him to.

When he said things like that, I could
understand the feelings beneath the words that he couldn’t convey.
I felt the same way. That always assured me that we were meant for
each other.

I stare into his exquisite eyes now,
wondering how I could have been wrong.

Drake grabs my chin with his bleeding hands.
His eyes are a wild fire green as they search my face. “It’s you.
It’s really you.”

I close my eyes, overwhelmed with pleasure.
Oh God! To feel his touch again after so long. He grabs tighter,
causing me pain, but it’s a sweet kind of pain that sends torrents
of delicious volcanic pleasure down my spine.

His bleeding hand slides down and closes over
my throat. “How could you leave me?” he screams with desperation.
“How could you leave me?”

Taken back, I recoil from his venom. But I’m
at my limit; I can’t fight him anymore. I breakdown, letting the
tears of the past three years flow all they want.

A strangled sound escapes Drake’s lips as he
watches me, his entire body shaking. It’s as if he wants to comfort
me but doesn’t know how. Slowly, carefully, he leads my head into
his chest.

I melt into him, sobbing hard because it
feels so good to be where I belong. To be home. To be in his
arms.

“Oh Scarlett,” he cries. “My Scarlett.”

I close my eyes, and let everything go. This
is what I want, to hear him call me ‘my Scarlett’ again. So what’s
the cause of the rolling ball in my chest then? It’s obvious:
because things have changed. He can’t really call me ‘My Scarlett’
anymore. He was just about to marry another woman. An action that
would have made sure I would never be his Scarlett. I haven’t been
with any other man in the past three years we’ve been apart. Yet,
here he is, way past that bridge, and is even engaged. And he has
the audacity to call me his Scarlett? Blinding anger overcomes me
and I try to shift from his hold.

He growls and yanks me back into his arms,
making me lose every thought in my head.

He wraps my hair around his fist and pulls my
head back. “Anywhere you go in this world, I will find you. Do you
understand me, Scarlett? You belong to me. Your pussy is mine.”

His other hand travels to the front and he
runs his fingers along my lips roughly. “My soul needs you. It
needs it’s other half. I want to drink you, eat you, my
Scarlett.”

I can’t breathe. My body is on fire. My mind
is useless. I can’t remember why I was angry. All that matters is
Drake and the throbbing pleasure he’s forcing into my body.

Dazed, I open my mouth, and take his fingers
in, sucking and tasting him as if my life depends on it.

He growls deep in his chest, and suddenly
grabs the top of my evening gown and rips it down the middle with
just one movement.

Taken aback, I glance down at my body. I’m in
just my panties, bra, and the pair of nude stilettos I wore for his
wedding reception. I can’t stop trembling as Drake yanks off my
bra, letting my heavy breasts spill free.

I’m caught off guard, and wrap my arms around
my body, a knee jerk reaction.

“Don’t hide yourself from me!” he pries my
hands away from my body. Then his lips are suddenly on my neck,
hot, wet, and flowing with fire. He starts kissing the bare skin of
my back hungrily, pushing his face into my skin as if he wants to
melt into me. Drake grabs both my breast in his hands and squeezes
so hard that I cry from the pain.

I try to shift away from him, stunned by the
assault of desire flowing through me. Drake growls his anger in
response. He squeezes my tits harder, and pulls me into his body by
tugging on the generous flesh of each breast. Before I can even
react, he snarls and buries his face in my neck. He sucks and then
bites down hard.

The sudden violence makes me completely lose
it. I bring my fists down on his chest and shoulders with all my
strength, and continue hitting until he lets me go. How dare he do
this?

Staggering back, I shoot my hands forward to
steady myself. Once again, I can’t help but feel as if I’m always
on the losing end when it comes to him. He has no right to be
handling me in this manner. He’s the one getting married!

“You bastard, you are getting married! Or did
you forget about that?”

He grabs me again, and this time I slap him
hard enough to turn his head. “Don’t touch me. Fuck you, Drake,
fuck you!”

His body jerks with tension; he pushes me
away, and starts tearing at his clothes.

“Fuck me? That’s fine. You are going to,” he
mutters darkly, his lips trembling. His gaze is scorching hot, his
face tight and hard with determination.

Oh shit. My anger is great and wide, but dear
god, the raw carnal energy bursting from his words and body as he
strips destroys everything else.

My nipples harden into bullets and my breasts
suddenly feel too heavy. I tremble violently, and a heated ache
pools between my legs as I imagine us fucking. I know I should turn
around, run away do anything. This isn’t right.

But I can’t. The thought that Drake would be
naked before me is too much temptation. I watch, as if in a trance,
as he yanks his pants down and his huge cock tumbles out.

My legs weaken and I almost pass out. His
cock is just as beautiful as I remember: tanned, thick, and long
with large veins. The gorgeous birthmark by its broad head is still
there. I start salivating just from the throbbing rock hardness of
it. Moisture drips from the swollen slit now, and I suddenly feel
thirstier that I’ve ever been.

Oh God, I’ve missed him so much, so fucking
much. I pivot, forcing myself to stare at anything but his glorious
naked body. But, nothing in this world can come close to the
magnificence of Drake naked. Of his gorgeous, thick cock winking at
me, as if it’s trying to convey how much it has missed me.

Shit. What am I thinking? I reach for the
door handle, realizing now that it was a mistake to attempt to
share air with this man in the first place.

He’s fast, because moments later I feel him
come up behind me. His palms make a bang as they flatten to the
wood on either side of my head, trapping me.

A moan escapes my lips as my body cries out,
straining, and yearning to be one with his. Hot blows of arousal
gather at my core, imprisoning me.

With Drake this close, nothing in the world
make sense. His aura, his tangible force, and just all of him is
everywhere around me. He’s the only thing I can breathe and
see.

“You are never leaving me again,” he says,
his breath hot on my neck as his powerful body vibrating with
desperate heat and hunger for mine.

“Drake,” I cry, my legs giving out.

“Scarlett,” he moans in response and yanks me
into his naked body.

A wave of dizziness overcomes my mind. God,
the man is on fire. Literally. Scorching heat oozes from his skin,
passes through the fabric of my dress, then onto my skin, and
continues until it is buried deep in my heart. I’m on fire. I want
his hands, his mouth, his cock. I want his everything.

He grabs my arms and shakes me so hard that
my teeth snap together. “How could you leave me?”

“I don’t know,” I scream, tears falling down
my cheeks.

A sob burst out of his chest and he buries
his face into my neck. Drake crushes me in his arms, making it
impossible for me to breathe. Then his hands are roaming every inch
of my body, squeezing, pinching, grabbing until he reaches my hips.
He forcefully cups my pussy, sending a jolt of pained pleasure
through me.