Shades Of Obsession

by JR King

  His chest lifted as a loud laugh escaped him. “I’m not trying to sexually arouse you, Elena. Not at all,” he revealed with a lot of amusement.

  “Then what the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?” I pulled angrily on the cuff to emphasize the accuracy of my statement. “This has been fun and all, but I’d like to be unchained. What do I have to do to get you to take this thing off?” The handcuff scraped along the wooden leg as I pulled.

  “You don’t have to do anything. I do believe I’ll let you go when I’m ready to let you go.”

  I snorted at the cryptic response. “If this is what you do for kicks, you need serious mental help. Kidnapping and chaining unsuspecting people so that you can play sick little games with them is only the beginning.”

  “Indeed, this is only the beginning.” He laughed again as he lifted his forefinger and rubbed it against the lower part of his mouth. “Kidnapping is actually a first for me,” he admitted. “I must say, it’s an entirely unique experience. The anticipation brings a delicious rush of blood to the head. Very enjoyable and worthy of recommendation.”

  My lips curled scornfully at his words. “Okay. Okay, Mr. Sicko Psychopath. Thank you for including me in this trial run. And although it’s nice to know I’m contributing to your skills as a future serial killer, I’d like to go home. I feel very honored you chose me as a candidate for your experimentation. I won’t go to the police.”

  His brow creased as he looked at me. “You know, Elena, you really have quite a mouth on you. Haven’t you been told?”

  That gave me an idea. He was also, after all, a businessman. “Mr. Turner? I’d like to bargain.” There was a sensible edge of a whine to my voice, but only an edge, that’s how I got my way with grandpa.

  “Negotiator on your résumé?” The visible spangle in his eyes suggested he enjoyed bargaining.

  “Logos, ethos, pathos. Watch and learn. Watch and learn.”

  He seemed to think about it for a moment. Then a slow smile snaked across his lips, and he flicked his hand like a Greek or Roman Emperor: you want to play Let’s negotiate? Go for it.

  I was smart enough to realize that an ultimatum was a dumb idea, so I set all my chips on the table. “If I kiss you like we kissed the first time, will you take these off?”

  “Ms. Anderson, you’re an adorable negotiator and a fucking hot temptation.” Yet he didn’t move.

  “So?” I pressed in aggravation. “I scratch your back and you scratch mine?”

  Looking at the ceiling, he rubbed the back of his neck. In a flash he knelt in front of me and pressed his lips to mine, lingering gently. He didn’t force his way into my mouth. Only when my lips parted did his tongue come out to slip inside, and I hesitantly met it with my own. He lifted his hand to touch the side of my face, and his tongue slid along my lower lip before he pulled it into his mouth to suck on it.

  I moaned the moment he pulled away from me. “Take it off.” My voice held a slight tremor as I pulled on the chain.

  He laughed sharply and stroked my forehead as if I were a slow-learning child, gentling my skittishness. Within an instant his gentleness vanished, and he went to his desk. He pushed back the swivel castors of the chair and patted the backrest. “I never said I would, Elena.” He whirled around to face the hibernating screen. “You drive a hard bargain, but you gave in before the deal was cemented. Never do that, it’s bad for business.”

  I tried to glare but I wasn’t sure I’d managed it. How long had we kissed? There was nothing more I could think of to say, any semblance of thought was wiped away.

  Drumming his fingers, he pinched his shiny lips together.

  “What are you going to do with me?”

  “Whatever I want.”

  “When do you think you’ll unchain me?”

  “I’ll let you know,” he answered icily.

  I wasn’t going to let him mow me down, so I confuted with something banal. “I have to pee.”

  “Hold it in, and be quiet. I’d rather not waste time taping your mouth.”

  I let out an ear-piercing scream. In seconds I ran out of breath, so I filled my lungs and screamed blue murder again.

  I stopped in the middle when Alexander bounded off his chair. He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me up against his chest. A cold palm pressed against my mouth and a set of warm lips pressed against my ear. “Stop,” he hissed in warning. I felt him kissing my neck, his lips tracing a meandering path down the length of it. My whimpered cries against his palm turned into soft mews. “Would you like another deal? A win-win situation?”

  A plan of attack tickled the edges of my mind. I nodded.

  He removed his hand from my mouth. “Allow me to give you an orgasm. If you can enjoy that, I’ll unlock the handcuffs.”

  And that’s when I made my move. I launched my shoulder hard into his chest. Instead of putting him off balance, as I should have, he only looked surprised. I jerked my knee up, aiming for his groin. He caught it, holding my knee and forcing me on one leg while he looked at me with renewed interest. “Nice try.”

  I attempted to wrench my knee from the unforgiving grip, tried to look as defiant as one could on one foot. “What do you get out of the deal?”

  He released my knee. “The pleasure of watching you come.” Lifting a finger, he ran it along his lower lip as he became lost in thought. “Have you decided yet? I’ve got work to do.”

  Being handcuffed had left me in so much distress that I braved dealing with anything he wanted. Besides, whenever I felt the barest whisper of his touch, there was nothing I could do about the pleasure it evoked inside me. “Okay.”

  His lips parted, his tongue peeking out to taste my skin. “Not so fast,” he sighed. “I want to play with you a little.”

  I sighed too as his lips tickled my ear.

  “Breathe,” he ordered gruffly. Taking my earlobe into his mouth, he began to suck on it gently.

  Trembling, I took a deep breath.

  I listened to his breath labor as he grazed his teeth over my earlobe before releasing it to slide his cheek alongside mine. “Where should I touch you? Show me.”

  I can do this, I reasoned with myself. My hand came up to my breast. “Here.”

  For a long moment, he said nothing, and kept gazing into my eyes with an uncomprehending smile. “Where else?”

  This is what he wanted, not what I wanted. I knew I was playing with fire when I grasped his hand to guide it between my legs. I didn’t balk, not even when I felt him cupping me. I moved closer to touch his lips with mine. “Touch me, Alex.”

  His fingers eased beneath the hem of my dress, and when they came in contact with my skin, I jerked. His palm slid over my stomach in a to and fro motion. “Relax, Elena,” he breathed. “I want to enjoy this as much as you are enjoying it.”

  As if. I wasn’t enjoying myself. It also sounded like his words were designed to soothe me. Maybe the seductive timbre he used worked on weak-willed models, but to me it sounded insulting.

  His hands began to venture northward, and I tensed as they reached the underside of my breasts. Closing my eyes, I sucked in a sharp breath. His fingers brushed against my erect nipples, repeating the motion several times before his thumbs circled the aureoles. He plucked at the tips as if he were playing a fine instrument, stroking, twisting, and pinching them.

  “Look at me, Elena.” His voice was strained. “Relax.” It took me a while to realize I’d gripped the top of his thighs, fingers creasing his trousers. I could feel his muscles flexing, tensing, and growing tighter beneath my hands as I frantically fisted the fabric, trying to remain coherent. “Relax, baby girl.” I eased my hold and took a cleansing breath. He dipped his mouth to my neck and I tilted my head to give him greater access, biting my lip to hold in the pleasurable moan.

  I panted for breaths I could no longer accommodate, unrestrained moans bursting through my half-closed lips. The ache between my legs was becoming uncomfortable and, his hungry mouth on my shoulder bl
ade and cruel hand clasped around my breast kept adding fuel to the fire. Abruptly his palm slid down the expanse of my stomach, plunging into the heat of my sex.

  “I can work with this, you’re incredibly wet,” he sighed in awe.

  Without any warning, he pushed two fingers into me, scissoring them so that my breaths deformed into wild groans that were trapped halfway between brain and mouth. “Please, just do it,” I cried, lost in need. My whole body prickled with a want I didn’t have an explanation for.

  He raised his eyebrows mockingly. “What was that?”

  All I could manage is a wordless little sob. In the corner of my blurred, cloistered vision, I saw him smile, and his fingers went out as fast as they went in. I whined, biting down on my lip.

  “Did you want something?”

  Why bother answering? Beggars can’t be choosers. A loud, uncontrolled cry emerged from my throat.

  “Shh, Ariel.” He didn’t relent until I lost it, until I grabbed his hand to steer him. “That’s it, baby. Take it.” A low growl of pleasure erupted from his throat. “I want to fuck you so bad,” he ground out hoarsely. Pulling me tighter up against him, he plunged his fingers deeper inside my distended flesh and buried his face in my neck.

  Tortured whimpers crept out of my throat as pleasure crashed through me and, for a split second, I was blinded by the power of my orgasm. Distantly, I heard him groan, the depraved sound intensifying my feelings.

  “Eyes on me, Elena. I want to look at you.”

  I found his gaze within a second. “Please, Alexander.”

  He was fumbling with a handkerchief. “Please what, angel?”

  “Please let me go. I want to be with my family.”

  “Will you be a good girl and follow my rules, Elena?”

  Lowering my gaze, I nodded.

  With consummate roughness, he raised my chin and slapped me. “Don’t fucking look away from me when I’m talking to you! You’re not a dumb bitch. I asked you a question. I expect a proper answer given straight to me!”

  My cheek stung sharply and then I was left with the shock of it. I did manage to look at him. “I will follow your rules.”

  “There’s a golden rule you must follow if you want to make the best of this, Elena. If you follow it, all will be well. Only rewards, no punishments.”

  “What’s the rule?”

  “Just do as I say.”

  Unable to spurn the idea that I was attracted to a sick, coldhearted person, I turned away.

  “I told you not to look away, didn’t I?” For a second time, his hand struck my cheek, and instantly my eyes flashed toward his. “Keep your eyes on me when I’m talking to you, not the goddamn floor. It’s a simple thing, really. Can you follow my rules or should I ship you off to keep Robert and his buddies company? After the stunt you pulled on him, they might sell you off to the highest bidder in the Middle East. Russia maybe, if you beg nicely.”

  It couldn’t be gainsaid; this wasn’t my worst nightmare. I didn’t lie when I told him, “I’ll do as you say.”

  “Good girl.” He hugged me tightly before reaching into his trouser pocket. The steel around my wrist sprang open, and he promptly unlocked the other part, throwing it all in a trashcan. “One day, I’m going to deprive you from daylight, sounds, and mouthfuls of air, until you be a good girl and surrender your soul to me.”

  That’s when I saw the Tiffany letter opener, its handle engraved. It was the same slim model I’d given to grandpa, which reminded me to despise the man standing before me. With a quick motion, I grabbed it, and with the most blinding and forceful stroke I could produce I slashed Alexander’s arm.

  He grunted in pain, cursed and grabbed at his arm, right where his sleeve was frayed, right where the light blue fabric was reddening. Shocked that I’d pierced him, I dropped the weapon, staring at my crime in disbelief. Tears and snot ran down my face.

  He looked up at me, a murderous snarl escaping his lips. His gaze almost blistered my skin like acid. When the hit came, his hard fist connected with my jaw, and the blood flying from my nose and mouth was the last thing my brain registered as I crumpled to the floor.

  Alexander Turner

  The Fall from Grace

  This one’s a monumentally shitty one, a definite fall from grace. I’m a fucking monster. I hit her—the woman I loved. Before you pour down your vitriol, believe me when I tell you, I never wanted to hit her the way I had. All I wanted was to render her hopeless after she’d stabbed me. I couldn’t believe anyone, let alone a scrawny female, had the audacity to lay a hand on someone like me—someone as powerful as me. I wasn’t inebriated, it was supposed to be my moment of calm, and she stabbed me! I won’t rant or chew your head off, I very well know it was my fault. I was neither perfect nor did I exercise perfect judgment, but I shouldn’t have lost it like that.

  I bashed my balled fists on the wall and sank my head low as I tried to collect myself. No more than a minute passed before I whipped around and stormed toward Elena. I could still feel the remnants of my anger, only now I struggled to ignite that mother lode. In its place, the image of her bleeding mouth chilled my blood, and the intake of alcohol caused a wave of nausea to surface. Molotov cocktail. I bolted to the nearest powder room and vomited not knowing whether it was the self-reproach or the horrific scene I’d just witnessed. Guilt grew in my chest and dry heaves kept surging. Flushing the toilet, I realized I had to check on Elena. What if she needed a doctor? I hit her. Fuck, I hit my Elena.

  My morals were far from fickle, mainly because morality shouldn’t fade or waver when it stumbles across a hurdle, and yet today I’d failed myself. I threw up again, and now only frothy yellow bile pooled in the toilet bowl. Second flush, and I stood on unsteady legs. I wasn’t disgusted with myself for kidnapping her, that part was pure manipulation, an experiment concocted in the lab that is this world. I wasn’t disgusted with myself for backhanding her several times either, punishment for humiliating my mother. I was disgusted with myself for fatally hitting her. Jesus Christ, I’d never hit a woman like this before.

  And don’t give me smart observations about sexual play. That cannot be compared to what I’d done here, to hit a woman in the worst way. There’s a world of difference between a consensual act and abuse, and if you have difficulties understanding this, you have no business reading this book. I didn’t condone abuse; I condemned it, that’s how I was raised. Yeah, grandma would singlehandedly dismember me if she found out.

  I soldiered on and gripped the enameled lava countertop. Slowly, I splashed water on my face and rinsed with mouthwash. I hadn’t upchucked in twenty years. Twenty fucking years and now…shit, Elena needed a doctor.

  I’d left her on a sofa. Her body seemed to tense reflexively, little tremors bordering on convulsions.

  “Sweetheart, can you hear me?” I rested my palm on her forehead, then moved it to her cheek.

  A slow whimper chocked out of her.

  “Shh, Elena. I’m taking you to see a doctor.”

  Looking at her split lip up close, I almost vomited again. Mind you, I was used to catalogue bruises and welts on women. I called Hamilton, who was also my in-house doctor. Convenient? Yes. Coincidence? No. I never sweat the small details when I approached someone, I always thought about the bigger picture. People I collected had clear purpose in my life, or else they wouldn’t be here.

  I slid one arm under Elena’s back and the other under her knees, lifting her and tucking her into my chest. “Rest, I’ll make it all go away. I’m just carrying you to your room,” I told her, quite softly.

  It was a big muddle. Not to make a mountain out of a molehill, but through the embattlement, my arm was bleeding, and I was sore from the solid kicks Elena had landed to my shin. It’s not like someone fucking cares about me, is it? Hamilton came bursting in with an angry huff and eyed me with sheer contempt before treating Elena. Jillian didn’t bother hiding her growing disenchantment; the black look she gave me might have destroyed a lesser man
. “Get out of this house! Go cool yourself elsewhere, and when you retrieve your good senses, you may set foot in it again.” Considering all things, there weren’t many people who could dismiss me. The woman who could in fact send me away did it: my housekeeper. And—this you already know—I was a big sulker. Just like pancake batter spread and stuck to the hot surface, a scowl spread across my face. Through it all, I mumbled things at Jillian and she kept piling up threats. “Leave or else I’ll call Conrad.”

  I stalked to the door and made sure to slam it extra hard on my way out. Forced to remain stationary, I went to my bedroom. In the turmoil of undressing at the speed of light, Sophia called me. I stopped and answered, my tattered shirt held in one hand. “I’m busy right now.”

  Minutes later, I sprinted out the house.

  The steakhouse was tucked away in Copley Square. I peered at the array of perpendicular buildings that crowded the city. The weather looked tepid, rustling breezes on the windows, the gray-tinged sky sullen. I placed my wide tumbler of—yes—whiskey down on the table and consulted my watch.

  Right on time.

  Sophia wore a dark grey Prada dress with matching pumps, zipped along the chest of its front, cinched with a belt. No gewgaws and paillettes, no overuse of accessories. She looked casual and very feminine, making me wonder what men saw when they looked at her. A remarkably preserved middle-aged woman? A devoted wife and mother who looked incredibly attractive for her advanced years? A slender, perfectly curved woman who always wore the right colors and fits?

  When she saw me, her expression softened. She bared her teeth in a smile. For most people, smiling is a natural thing to do. Not Sophia. Smiling was just another learned skill, and right now it was a trifle too overdone for my liking.

  “Alex.” She leaned forward, angling her head to offer me her lips with unsettling tenderness. The eeriness of her lush eyes got to me each time, they had that glossy sheen like wet sea rock. Below finely arched eyebrows were wide-set rings surrounding grey irises that were shot through with blackly topaz.