Volatile Obsessions

by Dee Garcia

  That’s all I could think as he continued on in his feat.

  Until he impaled me. From one moment to the next, he was filling me to capacity, jolting the air out of my lungs. Vic wasn’t the biggest I’d been with, but he was still large, and he had girth. I squeezed my eyes shut as my body struggled to accept him despite how wet I was.

  “Fuuuck, so tight, so warm. Just like I remembered,” he mused, working in and out of me with ease.

  I hated that it was so easy for him.

  I wanted it to hurt, wanted it to hurt so badly, so badly that I’d scream, but it didn’t. It never hurt. After the first few occurrences, I learned to shut it off. Shutting down and giving in were part of my body’s natural reaction, a coping mechanism if you will.

  By some miracle, I didn’t have to cope for much longer. Someone must have been watching over me; God, a guardian angel, some special force—I don’t know, but as quickly as this all began was as quickly as it ended.

  The end a result of Vic’s phone buzzing in his pocket.

  “Fuck!” he hissed, stilling inside me as he fished it out and glanced over the screen. Clearly, it wasn’t someone to be ignored. A litany of expletives slipped past his lips as he pulled out with a quickness and shoved his rigid length back into his pants, his stare trained on my shivering form.

  He must’ve like what he because that amused, evil grin slid across his face once more. My stomach turned painfully. And then he was on me again, dragging the tip of his nose up my cheek, fingers toying with my sex.

  “We’ll finish this soon, L,” he promised me, his voice deathly low. “Money calls. Think of me when you come later, okay?”

  And with that, he was gone, leaving me exposed in the cool confines of my office with nothing but the demons of my past.

  ♫ Bodies - Drowning Pool ♫

  Took me two days after the Great Whiskey Flood of 2017 to quell my anger enough to finally react. Had I taken action on Monday morning after walking into the distillery, things would’ve ended badly for anyone who stood in my path.

  Lux especially.

  It had nothing to do with the whiskey, by the way. That I couldn’t care less about. The whiskey business was all Vic, though he didn’t seem too bothered by the loss, if I’m being completely honest. He was more concerned about Liza resurfacing, and while I was, too, I was far more preoccupied by the fact Lux seemed to have pinned me for a fool.

  My thoughtful silence obviously gave her the wrong impression. While I was contemplating the next best attack, something that would top my last charade, here she was, laughing at me, pissing all over me, asserting her dominance.

  Trying and failing to prove her goddamn point.

  And she was about to find out just how wrong she was.

  “Can I help you, sir?” asked this elfin blonde at the tidy Victorian desk I’d seen all those nights ago.

  “I’m here to see, Miss Mercier,” I answered, in the smoothest voice I could manage.

  “And your name is?”

  Grinning, I shoved my hands into my slack pockets. “Just tell her it’s an old friend.”

  “Okay…” She eyed me keenly, but went on to dial Lux’s extension without further questioning. “L, you have a visitor… Mhmm... An old friend? Are you sure? O-okay…”

  Setting her phone back in place, the small woman rose onto her feet and waved a polished hand toward the doors. “She was just leaving, so you’ll have to make it quick, but go right through those doors.”

  “Thank you, love.” I tipped my head at her graciously and strolled to the doors with leisure strides as directed.

  Curling my hands around the cool handles brought back the same rush it did the first time around, only this time it was amplified in tenfold. I could already smell her, could just imagine her pretty face as I stormed in on her much in the same way she’d barreled in on me.

  My grin widened.

  Showtime.

  “Knock, knock,” I sang cheerfully as I threw open the doors without care.

  They slammed against the walls with a loud bang, snapping Lux’s head up toward me immediately, baby blues widening in genuine surprise.

  Clearly, she hadn’t thought an old friend could be me.

  Score one for the King.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” she barked, shooting onto her feet.

  Almost instantly, I felt the shift in the air around us.

  Intoxicating us.

  Suffocating us.

  My entire body buzzed like a live wire. I couldn’t help myself from devouring her whole with a singular sweep of my eyes. They slid over her subtly curved form, mentally removing the strapless mauve dress clinging to her figure along the way.

  She was fucking stunning, and I was itching to get closer, for multiple reasons.

  “Oh, nothing… Just paying you a little visit.” I smirked, shutting the doors behind myself.

  One of her perfectly arched brows shot up curiously. “Is that so?”

  “Indeed,” I conceded, starting toward her with purpose. “You see, it appears my business was vandalized a couple of days back, now I’m simply doing my due diligence.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Crossing you off my list as a possible suspect.”

  “A whole list, huh?” she asked on a chuckle, crossing her arms.

  “It’s not very long, but nonetheless, it is a list that needs to be addressed, and you’re at the very top, pigeon. Not that I’m implying it was you or anything, but you—”

  “Cut the shit, Roman. You know damn well it was me.”

  The snarl in her tone left me hanging onto my words.

  Well, shit.

  Had she really just admitted that?

  Cocking my head to one side, I stilled mere feet away from her.

  “So you’re saying it was you?” I questioned, the black hole in my chest kick-starting into overdrive when she started toward me.

  “That’s what I just said, is it not?” she purred, dragging an ebony claw along my chest as she sauntered around me. “How’s the distillery doing by the way? Still flooded? Bet it reeks to high Heaven in there.”

  Burning.

  I was burning with anger, frustration—lust.

  Denial, too.

  This woman made me crazy in a ways that made no sense whatsoever. The hold she had over me made no sense whatsoever. I hated her, or at least, I did. Tormenting her, bringing her pain and hardship, brought me great pleasure. But in the same hand, that hate somehow bled into something else, something I didn’t want to feel for her.

  I didn’t want to want Lux, yet here we are, the force between us unstoppable.

  Relentless.

  Inevitable.

  Consuming.

  “You’re much too close for your own good, love. I suggest you back up,” I warned her, breathing through each wave of temptation that rattled through me.

  “All bark, no bite, Mr. King,” she cooed in my ear, her body pressed flush to my back. “You don’t scare me.”

  I was about to respond, to follow that up with a ‘you should be,’ until I heard the safety click of a pistol on my right. Then she pressed the cool tip to my temple, chucking quietly as I righted myself all the more.

  “Weren’t expecting that, huh?”

  “Drop it,” I gritted out, pulse roaring in my ears.

  “Or what?” she challenged.

  “Or this won’t fare well for you.”

  Lux choked out a laugh, adding more pressure to her weapon. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

  “Last chance, Lux. Drop it,” I warned again, breaths ragged and unsteady.

  “Go on, Roman. Do your worst,” she hedged, mimicking my exact words from that night in my office.

  One…

  Two…

  Three…

  I tried taking deep breaths, eyes squeezed shut in attempt to block her out, but the heat radiating off her body was impossible to ignore. That primal need within me, the one that drew me t
o her despite every red flag set raised before me, was raging like a storm.

  I wanted her.

  Wanted to wreck her.

  Possess her.

  Fuck her.

  Own her.

  Christ, I was so screwed if these were the directions my mind was going to so early on. They were dangerous, dangerous thoughts, thoughts that had the ability to wreck us in one simple implosion.

  How was it even possible this woman could make me feel so insane?

  More over, the better question was, did she feel this way, too?

  I was so sure of it the other night, so damn sure, but here in this moment, she didn’t seem as fazed by my presence anymore.

  And I didn’t like that.

  Needed to change that.

  With lithe speed, I ducked and swiveled around, body slamming her into the nearest wall. The force of my strike dislodged the weapon from her hand, dropping it right in my grasp.

  I grinned, and struck again.

  Digging the tip of her pistol deep under her chin, I pressed myself impossibly closer, watching in complete fascination as she gasped for air like a fish out of water.

  That stare of hers, though…it didn’t waver, lethal blues biting into me as she tried clawing herself free.

  My grin widened.

  There it is.

  “What’s wrong, pigeon? Did you really think the big, bad wolf doesn’t bite?” I hissed, relishing the feel of being this close to her.

  She fit perfectly against me.

  “Stop calling me that,” she choked out, and then with a growl I wasn’t expecting, she kneed me almost right in the nuts, whacking her palm straight across my cheek.

  She struck me so hard, the bloody gun went flying out from my grasp, clattering to the floor several feet away as I folded over just slightly. The entire left side of my face burned from her assault.

  Little bitch had good aim.

  Chuckling, I snapped my jaw back in place and swiftly trapped her throat in my hand, touching my forehead to hers as I forced her further into the wall. “That’s fine, pigeon,” I snarled again, placing emphasis on her favorite word. “Hate me all you want. I can assure you the feeling is fucking mutual.”

  “Fantastic, so get the fuck out of here already,” she tossed back, chest heaving.

  “Not a chance in hell, especially now. You wanna play? Let’s play, love. I guarantee you’ll lose,” I murmured, dropping my stare to her lips.

  They looked so soft, so damned plump and delicious. I wanted to suck them between my teeth and lick into her mouth…

  “I’m fast, King,” she growled, distracting me from my wayward thoughts.

  “And I’m faster,” I countered.

  “I’d never guess considering I had to provoke you a second time to get you moving.”

  “Because you have no patience. Trust me, I was coming for you, sweetheart,” I advised softly, bringing my lips impossibly closer. They were so close, I could almost taste her. “You just never gave me the chance.”

  Lux swallowed, the action defined by the prominent bobbing of her throat, and yet still, she held her head high, as if she weren’t at all affected by our proximity.

  “Don’t think, Roman. Just do,” she grated softly. “Like I said, do your worst. Balls in your court. That, or you can leave, and you’ll never have to worry about me again.”

  “I told you, I’m not going anywhere,” I reminded her.

  “Then make a move and don’t keep me waiting. The faster I can wear you down and knock you out, the better.”

  “You have no idea what you’re asking for,” I growled in warning, because it was the absolute truth.

  She wanted me to do my worst?

  Then the worst she shall have.

  ♫ Monster - Skillet ♫

  I don’t know what the hell happened to me in Lux’s office that night, but I never intended for it to go that far. Hell, I hadn’t even expected to run into her when I went back for my charger, which for the record, was the absolute truth.

  Not the point, though.

  Seeing her there, all alone, briefly reminded me of old times. But then she questioned my presence and hit me with that fake smile, and I remembered exactly why she needed to go. The woman had used me and abused me for too long.

  Regardless of how I felt about her, I know I fucked up. I let my emotions get the best of me, and as a result, could end up catching a case for my stupidity. A major case, and orange was most definitely not my fucking color.

  That left me one choice and one choice only, whether I was fond of the idea or not; groveling.

  I needed to grovel like the lovesick bastard she once knew, work my way back onto her good side and apologize profusely until she forgave me. Otherwise, the entire operation could be ruined.

  I’d come too far and had way too much on the line to let that happen. Not to mention, Liza would behead me without hesitation.

  So I was starting with a simple clue. Something that would make her think she was one step ahead of Roman, which in actuality, she would be. Rome had no idea I knew about his little spot. He hadn’t shared it with me and I assumed it was for the same reason as always; that was his spot, somewhere he could go and think, unwind, enjoy the solitude of his own company…

  Not anymore, brother.

  I chuckled at his expense as I signed my name on the sticky note and stuck it to Lux’s computer monitor, hoping like hell this was a move in the right direction.

  And considering what his next move was, it should be…

  ♫ Dollhouse - Melanie Martinez ♫

  He’s down there.

  He’s still down there, drinking in excess, playing Rummy with his friends.

  I groan in frustration.

  Can’t he just go to bed already?

  I’ve been waiting to go downstairs for what’s felt like hours, hiding out in the safety of my room. I can’t keep myself locked up much longer, though.

  I’m parched, so parched my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I’m starved, too—especially after skipping supper— but I don’t want to face him.

  I don’t want to face them.

  My stomach grumbles in protest, reminding me the last time I ate was a small lunch at school. Wasn’t too hungry at the time, but I’m sure regretting it now. I rub at sore spot in attempt to quell that gnawing sense of hunger, but it rumbles again, louder this time.

  It hurts, too; twisting, turning, and contorting.

  I will myself to calm down, to breathe through it like all the other times, but it doesn’t work. All I can think about is how hungry I am, how wonderful a warm, cheesy sandwich would taste right now. I’m salivating just imagining it, and I know without a doubt, I’m going to have to brave the storm and make it down to that kitchen before I make myself sick.

  Sucking in a heap of air, I turn the doorknob as quietly as possible and poke my head out into the darkened corridor. The door to their room is shut. No light shines beneath it either. I know mum is in there, though, probably preparing herself for what awaits when my father finally calls it a night. Just the thought of what she endures brings tears to my eyes. She hasn’t a clue I know, that I can hear them through the wall of my bedroom every time it happens.

  But even if she did, I know she wouldn’t speak of it.

  Just like I don’t either…

  I’ve contemplated telling her, have come so close to spitting it all out when she’s just laying there in one of her dazed states, but I don’t, and I won’t. She’d deny it if anything, tell me I’m making it up and to stop accusing my father of such atrocities…

  Laughter and a loud bang reel me back into the moment. I startle at the sound and reconsider my decision to tread downstairs, but my stomach rumbles yet again.

  I don’t need a full plate. I’ll be in and out, I war with myself, shutting my door with the softest click.

  On another deep breath, I pad carefully down the stairs in the darkness. My heart thumps with each step as though it m
ight burst from my chest at any moment. I’m barely breathing, yet it thunders in my ears, spiking my pulse into a wild gallop. I have three steps to go when I hear voices from the telly drift into the foyer. It’s nothing but background noise, a concept I find rather pointless when it’s not like they can hear it. They’re louder with every beer consumed.

  As I round the corner into the living area, my father’s icy stare collides with mine, penetrating me to my core. I fall rigid in place. The corner of his mouth quirks in the most subtle, satisfied smirk, but he says nothing, returning his attention to the men surrounding him as he takes another swig from his bottle.

  You can do this, I remind myself. Grab what you need and get out.

  Despite how small and afraid I feel, I hold my head high and amble into the kitchen with soft steps, hoping none of them will pay me any mind. I know it’s impolite not to acknowledge them and I may get in trouble for it, but I don’t even glance their way. I simply gather all I need from the refrigerator and take a place at the counter where I can see them, fixing myself a quick sandwich as quietly as possible; turkey, cheese, a leaf of lettuce, and some mayonnaise.

  When I finish, I stow everything back in its rightful spot, pull out a fizzy drink, and grab a bag of crips from the basket on top of the fridge, thinking all is well.

  The moment I spin around, though, all eyes are on me. It’s only then I realize the conversation had run quiet while I was storing my ingredients.

  Crap.

  I swallow deeply and remain in place, holding their stares. Stares that are hungered.

  Familiar.

  Every last one.

  Get out, that little voice in my head advises.

  My body instantly reconnects with my brain. I offer them a small smile and scamper out of the kitchen, making it just into the foyer when my father’s voice booms behind me.

  “Lux, get back in here.”

  I skid to a stop and eye the stairs. They’re so close. I could just run and lock myself away.

  But deep down, I know that wouldn’t end well for me.

  The sick realization clogs my throat. I whimper and set both my plate and my drink at the foot of the stairs, then retrace my steps, stopping at the arched threshold between the living area and the kitchen.