Obsession (19 page)

“Completely?” he asked, his warm breath suddenly tickling my clitoris, and my God, I almost came.

“Yes, yes. Completely, I trust you. Please touch me. Baby…”

I cried out when something cold and wet stroked my clit. What? The sensation had me confused. I’d expected the warmth of his tongue.

The cold and wet brushed against my inner thigh now, and I finally placed what it was. A cube of ice.

He stroked my pussy again with the ice cube. My nub clenched. My hips jerked.

“I wonder if I could make you come like this,” he said softly, and stroked me with the ice again.

“I don’t know. It feels good, but it’s so cold…”

The bed squeaked as he got up. Where was he going now? “Baby, please,” I protested.

His lips brushed against mine. They were cold and wet. From the ice. My body writhed, my not so subtle cue that I wanted him. On top of me. Inside me. Fucking me until I collapsed from sheer exhaustion.

He kissed my jaw, then trailed his tongue to my earlobe and suckled. He whispered, “Do you love me?”

“You know I love everything that you do to me,” I quickly replied, and that was the absolute truth. I craved this man’s touch in a way I wasn’t sure was healthy. “Even if you make me wait for it.”

The ice cube circled my nipple, and my flesh tightened instantly. A moment later, I felt the flick of his hot tongue. Just a flick though, not nearly enough. I arched my back, pushing my breasts forward.

“Do you love me?” he repeated.

Slowly, I lowered my back. He
was
different today. Why was he suddenly asking me about love, knowing my situation? Knowing the circumstances under which we’d come together?

“I know you love this.” He began stroking my clit with his thumb. Back and forth. Back and forth.

“Mmm,
yes.
I love that.” I began to pant, close to the edge. “I can never get enough of your hands on my body.”

“What about my tongue?” He adjusted his body between my legs, and I bit down on my bottom lip in anticipation. The moment his tongue came down on me, my hips bucked and I started to whimper.

“Baby, I love your tongue. I can’t get enough of your tongue.
Ohhh.
”

He suckled me until I was crying from the pleasure and on the verge of exploding. Then he pulled back, denying me my release.

“No, no.
Please,
” I begged. “I need you, baby. I need—”

“Do you love me?” he asked again.

“Yes!” I cried out. “I love you. I love you.”

“Oh, baby. I love you, too.” Hastily, he untied my legs and hooked them over his shoulders and began to devour me. He sucked, he nibbled, he buried his tongue inside me. He ate greedily, as though my pussy was the last meal he would ever have.

My whole body convulsed as my orgasm gripped me, gripped me harder than anything I’d ever experienced before. It zapped me of my energy. Stole my breath. Left me shuddering as though a speeding train had just rocketed through my body.

Even through my pleasure, I was aware that something had changed between us.

I wasn’t sure it was for the better.

Two days later, Marnie called me in the early evening and told me to turn on the television to Channel 4 News.

“Why?” I asked.

“Do it quickly,” she said, not answering my question. “The story’s coming up.”

Holding the cordless receiver to my ear, I went into the living room and turned on the television. It was about five-fifteen, so the lead stories had already passed. “What am I watching for?” I asked. “Other than this commercial about fabric softener.”

“Just hold on. You’ll see in a minute.”

And I did see, the moment the news came back on. A picture of Teddy, the man who had harassed me the night I met Peter, flashed on the screen. The news anchor, an attractive black woman, took on a serious tone as she began to speak.

“Police this evening are looking for the man who attacked and nearly killed Theodore Granger.” The normal picture of Teddy changed to one where his face was bruised and bloodied. “Granger was attacked last night while out at City Walk. He has described his attacker as six feet two inches, with dark, wavy hair. Possibly Hispanic, or possibly biracial, with an accent. Granger was punched and slashed several times with a knife, but was able to fight off his attacker before the man fled. If you have any information on the possible identity of the assailant, Orlando Police urge you to call them at 1-800-555-TIPS.”

Frowning, I hit the mute button. “That’s the guy from the club that night,” I said. “Why did you want me to watch that?”

“What do you think?”

And then I got it. Exactly what was going through Marnie’s mind. “Marnie, you can’t possibly think—”

“Hell, yes, I think,” Marnie said before I could finish my question. “Attacked while outside of City Walk? The same guy who was harassing you?”

“It could have been anyone,” I said.

“That description is Peter to a
T
. And you know it.”

I didn’t respond. Yes, I could see why Marnie believed that, but he wasn’t the only biracial or even Hispanic man in the state of Florida. Hell, there were thousands who fit that description, right down to speaking with an accent.

“How many Cubans live in Florida?” I asked Marnie. “And others from Mexico, Central and South America…”

“It was Peter,” Marnie said. “I know it was.”

“Four weeks after I met him?” I said doubtfully.

“I don’t know. I’ve got this feeling.”

“What do you want me to do—call the cops?” There was a hint of incredulity in my voice. Surely Marnie didn’t expect me to call the police with her suspicion that Peter had attacked Teddy. It was wild speculation at best. And it kind of pissed me off that she’d jump to such a conclusion about the man I was involved with.

Yes, I was starting to feel that he was a bit too clingy. But so what if he didn’t want to hang out with Marnie and Robert? That didn’t make him a violent person.

“I guess I want you to be careful,” Marnie said.

“I am being careful,” I told her. “And promise me you aren’t going to call the cops about your suspicion. You wouldn’t do that, right?”

“No,” Marnie said after a moment. “But I thought you should know. So you can maybe get some…perspective.”

“What kind of perspective?” I asked testily.

“You’ve changed, Sophie. You’ve changed since you’ve been with this guy. We hardly see each other anymore.”

“You’re dating Robert. That’s just the way it is when you start seeing someone new.”

“Yeah, but I don’t like that he doesn’t want to meet any of your friends. And what do you really know about his family?”

“His family is in Italy,” I said. “And I think he’s just a bit shy. Not everyone is outgoing. Some people are more reserved. What do you know about Robert’s family?” I challenged.

“I know they’re from Jacksonville, and both his parents are teachers. He has two sisters, twins, who are eighteen months younger than he is. And I’m meeting his family in a couple weeks at a family reunion.”

“Oh,” I said, her answer not what I expected. “Well, like I said, all of Peter’s family is in Italy. It’s a totally different story. Just because he’s shy and we like to stay in and have sex…is that a crime?”

“All right,” Marnie said, a hint of defeat in her voice. “Maybe I’m jumping the gun. I saw Teddy’s picture at the top of the newscast and heard he was beaten and I thought…I’m just worried about you.”

“I know. I do appreciate your concern.” My call waiting beeped. A quick glance at the display told me it was Peter calling. “Marnie, I’ve got to go. That’s Peter.”

“All right, sweetie. Remember, I love you.”

“I love you, too. Talk to you later.” I pressed the button to link over to the other line. “Peter?”

“Bella.”

My breath caught in my throat, and already, I felt a pull of desire.

“I have a surprise for you,” Peter said.

“What kind of surprise?”

“The kind of surprise that you must come here to see. Right away.”

“Right now?”

“Yes. Right now.”

“Okay. I’m on my way.”

As I got into my car, I thought about what Marnie had said. That I’d changed since I’d gotten involved with Peter.

Here I was getting in a car to head to his place because he’d asked me to do so. Did that mean I had changed?

I shook my head. No, it didn’t. I was having the best sex of my life. I was addicted to that sex, to the feeling of giving myself completely to Peter and he to me. It was intoxicating, and unlike anything I had ever experienced before.

What I did understand was that the longer I was involved in a relationship with Peter, the more complicated it would be to get out of it. He was in love with me. I loved the way I felt when with him, but wasn’t sure I wanted a long-term commitment with him.

But for right now, I wasn’t ready to walk away from him. Didn’t want to.

I concentrated on the fact that Peter had a surprise for me—not Marnie’s words of warning—and I smiled as I drove to his place.

Butterflies danced in my stomach as I knocked on his door. He opened it almost immediately, his eyes dancing as he stared down at me.

I loved that about him. How he genuinely seemed so happy every time he saw me.

“Bella.”
He pulled me into his arms and kissed me deeply. “You got here quickly.”

“I want to know what my surprise is.”

“Ah.” His eyes crinkled as he regarded me fondly. Yes, Peter might be a little obsessed with me, but that didn’t make him capable of violence. Why had Marnie jumped to such a conclusion?

“Well, I will not keep you waiting,” Peter said, pulling the door open wide. “Come in.”

I waltzed into the apartment, staring around as I did. I didn’t immediately see anything that might be for me.

Perhaps it would be in a little blue box. More dazzling jewelry?

Peter took me by the hand. “Come.”

He led me to the bedroom, and I narrowed my eyes, wondering if his surprise was of the sexual variety. The last time, he’d tied me to the bed. Did he have something even more risqué planned for this time? Perhaps a whip, or some toys?

But when we got to the bedroom, I saw nothing out of order on his neatly made bed except for the medium-size cardboard box.

Did I just hear something? A faint meow?

Peter led me to the bed, still smiling proudly. “This,
bella,
is your surprise.”

He gestured to the box, which had holes cut in the top of it. I knew now that I hadn’t misheard. Yes, there was a faint meow coming from inside the box.

“Open it,” he said.

So I did. A tiny black kitten all but leaped into my hands, dying for freedom from its makeshift cage.

“Oh, hello,” I cooed. I lifted the kitten, likely eight to nine weeks old, holding it up to my face. “Hi there, little fellow.”

“It’s a girl.”

The tiny cat began to purr. “Oh, my goodness, she’s precious.” I beamed at Peter. “Absolutely adorable.”

“You’re happy?”

I held the kitten to my chest. “Yes.”

Peter slipped his arm around my waist and kissed me on the cheek. We both laughed when the kitten swatted at my necklace, already trying to hone its hunting skills.

“Now you don’t have to worry about your other cat,” Peter said. “You have a new one.”

The comment took the edge off of my happiness. “I still need to find Peaches,” I said, meeting his eyes. “Just because you’ve bought me a new kitten doesn’t mean I’m going to forget about the pet I’ve had for years.”

“I think it’s time you accept the fact that your cat is gone, Sophie. This kitten is a new beginning for you.”

“I’m still going to look for Peaches,” I stressed, feeling a stirring of annoyance in my gut. I appreciated this new kitten, but it would never make me forget my cherished pet. Parents who lost children to tragedy didn’t just have more children and forget the ones who’d died.

“I was only trying to make you happy,” Peter said.

I nodded my understanding. Perhaps Peter was just clueless. Or, perhaps like a man trying to “fix” a situation, he’d figured a new kitten was going to take away my sadness over losing my pet.

“I am happy,” I told him. The kitten continued to play with the heart charm on my necklace, and I gently eased it backward, taking the charm from its claws. “Thank you.”

“This kitten will stay here,” Peter announced. “I want her to be
our
pet.”

Our pet. Our
meant a future.

“She’s too little to be alone,” Peter went on. “You’ll have to be here when I’m at work to take care of her.”

Something bothered me about the comment, but I let it slide without a response. Instead, I kept my attention on the kitten, which continued to purr, its little chest expanding and contracting.

“Now it’s time to name her,” Peter said.

“How about Ebony?” I suggested. “Since she’s black. Or Onyx. Ooh, I like Onyx.”

“Those are stupid names.” Peter dismissed my suggestions with a wave of his hand. “Give her a name that suits her personality. Look at those claws. She is a little tiger.” He kissed my neck. “Just like you. We should name her Tiger.”

Why had Peter bothered to tell me I should name her if he already had something in mind? Now I was really feeling annoyed.

“Didn’t you buy the kitten for me?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Then shouldn’t I be able to choose her name?”

The humor in Peter’s eyes went out as quickly as a person switched off a light. He was angry. “You want to name her Onyx. Fine. But I don’t think it’s a good name.”

Peter walked out of the bedroom, leaving me wondering what the heck he was mad about.

Well, he could be angry all he wanted. If this was my kitten, I was choosing the name.

I held her up to my face again and nuzzled my nose with hers. “What do you think? Do you like the name Onyx?”

The kitten purred in response.

“Onyx it is.”

I scrunched up foil paper and made it into a ball, which Onyx batted and chased around to her heart’s content until she tired herself out. Then she curled up on the edge of the carpet, her eyes slowly drifting closed as she fell asleep.

Peter had put in a gory horror movie an hour ago, but I wasn’t really into it. And when he moved his hand from my hip to my belly, I knew he wasn’t into it either.

“Finally, little Tiger is sleeping,” Peter said, slipping a hand beneath the waist on my jean shorts. “What about
my
little tiger? Are you sleeping?”

Just knowing that Peter wanted to fuck me had me already turned on.

“I don’t know,” I teased. “I think your tiger could use some special love and attention.”

“And then will she purr? Or roar?”

I undid the snap on my shorts to give Peter easier access to my pussy. “Why don’t you find out?”

Peter’s hand delved into my panties, immediately separating my folds with his fingers and fervently stroking my clit.

I moaned.

“That was a purr,” Peter said. “Let me see if I can make you roar.”

He inserted his fingers, three, maybe four, and started to finger-fuck me. With his other hand, he pushed my tank top and bra up urgently, then brought his mouth down onto one of my nipples with a satisfying sigh.

He suckled me hard. Finger-fucked me without mercy. My moans grew louder as my pleasure built. Fuck, I was going to come, and I was going to come hard.

I was almost there, almost ready to explode, when Peter moved his mouth from my breast, quickly dragged my shorts down my hips and brought his hot and greedy tongue down onto my clit. He lapped at me hungrily, grazed my clitoris with his teeth. And that’s when my orgasm gripped me. Absolutely overwhelmed me. I screamed with its intensity and soon ended up begging for mercy when Peter continued to devour me.

“Stop, Peter…I can’t take it…”