Page 34
Story: Obsessed-
Ascending on top of me and nuzzling my face and throat, my eyes start fluttering from eagerness. I’ve waited all day for him. He’s done the same for me.
“Too damn beautiful,” he rasps, his hand going between my legs and I fall into his angelite eyes, “too perfect and too damn mine.”
Lately our lovemaking has been different, his thrusts a little too deep. Desperate. When I cleave to him, he does the same, sometimes looking at me with an expression that I can’t read.
When it’s over and we’re spent, he yanks me to his chest and chants that I’mhis, his, his.
It’s like he’s trying to fight something. Maybe himself.
I ask him what he wants and needs but the answer is always the same.You.Stanmore-Five years later
I did everything I could to give her the life of her dreams.She has it now. Amber’s been signed by a record label and she’s played both abroad and all over the country. Critics call her music,sexy, decadent poison.
She tells me it’s all my doing. That I brought it out of her. And when she says it she always looks at me like I’m her hero. Like she doesn’t see just how big my shadow is behind me.
But that same shadow responds to her. Responds to her touch, her smell, her laughter alone. It’s contained by her and...sometimes she does make me feel like a good man.
Because that’s what she sees in me. Not to say that she doesn’t like it when I bite. She does. Always eagerly wriggling her hips in my face, always moaning so loud I’m happy I sound proofed the apartment.
There are days when we don’t leave, when we lock ourselves inside and fill our bedroom with the smell of frenzy and craze. We’re preoccupied with each other and indifferent to almost everyone else.
A life without her would have been a nightmare. A life with her is a dream.Even as the years have passed she still has her little, claret colored nails deep in me. I’m not a man who can be owned, but that part of me that can? All hers.
Some people carve their names into stones, we carved ourselves into each other. It’s intense, bordering on maddening and nothing for the faint of heart. But Amber is strong, strong enough to take me.
I knew she would be the one who could manage, the first time I saw her face on that poster. That split of a second was all it took for the fixation to start building, for me to realize that she was the one who was going to be all mine.
She was going to be the one who wasn’t going to lock me out, because the way that I love her is unconventional. Instead she allowed me in, knowing that every look, every touch, every word was sincere, burning with longing.
And I can’t ever get enough of her. Even when she’s right next to me, I still yearn for her. And when she’s a little farther apart, that yearning becomes so great that it sometimes takes over, tries to break free and I have to rein it in.
My eyes drink her in as she ferociously plays on the stage.
With coiffed hair, black dress and a pearl necklace she looks like a dark angel. Her dress has a high slit, her leg sticking out alongside the cello but if anyone dares to look too close at my wife’s body, they’ll see the bite marks on her inner thigh.
And yes, I do mark, her creamy, delicate skin. I do it because I’m a possessive husband.
I know it. She knows it. Anyone who comes in contact with us knows it.
When she finishes, gracefully bowing her head, applauds erupt, filling the hall and she gets a standing ovation. Our threeyear old son, Mason who’s sitting in my lap enthusiastically slaps his little fists together even if he doesn’t know what all the fuss is about.
Smiling, I place a kiss on his baby soft head, thinking that allowing my instinct to take over and get Amber pregnant was one of the best decisions of my life. It took a couple of years before I was able to share her but the need for us to have a family won in the end.
We wait for her by the exit, in the alley and I try hard to not let my impatience get the best of me. It’s been raining and Mason happily plays in one of the puddles, singing to himself.
He looks so much like me but his eyes and the gentleness in him is all Amber. My chest stirs because he and she hold my heart in their palms. Amber in her musical, delicate ones and Mason in his tiny ones.
I love my family fiercely. Unapologetically.And I’m fully aware of just how lucky I am.
If only Amber would come out... How long has she been in there? Sometimes fans greet her afterwards and we’ve decided that it’s best that I stay away during that time for my own sanity. And Amber’s.
But when unpleasant thoughts about others standing too close to her, able to smell the scent of her skin, I brush my neck in agitation, a sneer covering my face. Pacing back and forth, with my long, black coat I probably look like a bat, lying in wait for his butterfly.
Mason notices, looking up and I force the sneer to go away, winking at him instead. He bursts out into little chuckles, blissfully unware of the never-ending obsession his father has for his mother.
His mother who’s very late...
Amber doesn’t even get the chance to step out on the cobble stone street, before I have scooped her up in my arms and planted a violent kiss on her mouth. At first she protests in surprise, before giving in. She always gives in, in the end.
“What took you so long?” I rasp with curved brows and her lips pull into a smile. “Mason and I were ready to barge inside and drag you right out.”
“Not Masey. Only daddy...” Mason chippers casually, making Amber laugh. She looks happy, as happy as a wife of mine should look.“I didn’t take long. You just can’t stand being apart from me.”
“True,” I growl because she’s not wrong. How can I be apart from her when she’s not my sun but my moon. When everything’s dark, she still brings the light.
Our mouths meet, not separating until Mason tugs at our clothes. Taking his hands, we walk with him in between us down the alley and then we go home.
The End
“Too damn beautiful,” he rasps, his hand going between my legs and I fall into his angelite eyes, “too perfect and too damn mine.”
Lately our lovemaking has been different, his thrusts a little too deep. Desperate. When I cleave to him, he does the same, sometimes looking at me with an expression that I can’t read.
When it’s over and we’re spent, he yanks me to his chest and chants that I’mhis, his, his.
It’s like he’s trying to fight something. Maybe himself.
I ask him what he wants and needs but the answer is always the same.You.Stanmore-Five years later
I did everything I could to give her the life of her dreams.She has it now. Amber’s been signed by a record label and she’s played both abroad and all over the country. Critics call her music,sexy, decadent poison.
She tells me it’s all my doing. That I brought it out of her. And when she says it she always looks at me like I’m her hero. Like she doesn’t see just how big my shadow is behind me.
But that same shadow responds to her. Responds to her touch, her smell, her laughter alone. It’s contained by her and...sometimes she does make me feel like a good man.
Because that’s what she sees in me. Not to say that she doesn’t like it when I bite. She does. Always eagerly wriggling her hips in my face, always moaning so loud I’m happy I sound proofed the apartment.
There are days when we don’t leave, when we lock ourselves inside and fill our bedroom with the smell of frenzy and craze. We’re preoccupied with each other and indifferent to almost everyone else.
A life without her would have been a nightmare. A life with her is a dream.Even as the years have passed she still has her little, claret colored nails deep in me. I’m not a man who can be owned, but that part of me that can? All hers.
Some people carve their names into stones, we carved ourselves into each other. It’s intense, bordering on maddening and nothing for the faint of heart. But Amber is strong, strong enough to take me.
I knew she would be the one who could manage, the first time I saw her face on that poster. That split of a second was all it took for the fixation to start building, for me to realize that she was the one who was going to be all mine.
She was going to be the one who wasn’t going to lock me out, because the way that I love her is unconventional. Instead she allowed me in, knowing that every look, every touch, every word was sincere, burning with longing.
And I can’t ever get enough of her. Even when she’s right next to me, I still yearn for her. And when she’s a little farther apart, that yearning becomes so great that it sometimes takes over, tries to break free and I have to rein it in.
My eyes drink her in as she ferociously plays on the stage.
With coiffed hair, black dress and a pearl necklace she looks like a dark angel. Her dress has a high slit, her leg sticking out alongside the cello but if anyone dares to look too close at my wife’s body, they’ll see the bite marks on her inner thigh.
And yes, I do mark, her creamy, delicate skin. I do it because I’m a possessive husband.
I know it. She knows it. Anyone who comes in contact with us knows it.
When she finishes, gracefully bowing her head, applauds erupt, filling the hall and she gets a standing ovation. Our threeyear old son, Mason who’s sitting in my lap enthusiastically slaps his little fists together even if he doesn’t know what all the fuss is about.
Smiling, I place a kiss on his baby soft head, thinking that allowing my instinct to take over and get Amber pregnant was one of the best decisions of my life. It took a couple of years before I was able to share her but the need for us to have a family won in the end.
We wait for her by the exit, in the alley and I try hard to not let my impatience get the best of me. It’s been raining and Mason happily plays in one of the puddles, singing to himself.
He looks so much like me but his eyes and the gentleness in him is all Amber. My chest stirs because he and she hold my heart in their palms. Amber in her musical, delicate ones and Mason in his tiny ones.
I love my family fiercely. Unapologetically.And I’m fully aware of just how lucky I am.
If only Amber would come out... How long has she been in there? Sometimes fans greet her afterwards and we’ve decided that it’s best that I stay away during that time for my own sanity. And Amber’s.
But when unpleasant thoughts about others standing too close to her, able to smell the scent of her skin, I brush my neck in agitation, a sneer covering my face. Pacing back and forth, with my long, black coat I probably look like a bat, lying in wait for his butterfly.
Mason notices, looking up and I force the sneer to go away, winking at him instead. He bursts out into little chuckles, blissfully unware of the never-ending obsession his father has for his mother.
His mother who’s very late...
Amber doesn’t even get the chance to step out on the cobble stone street, before I have scooped her up in my arms and planted a violent kiss on her mouth. At first she protests in surprise, before giving in. She always gives in, in the end.
“What took you so long?” I rasp with curved brows and her lips pull into a smile. “Mason and I were ready to barge inside and drag you right out.”
“Not Masey. Only daddy...” Mason chippers casually, making Amber laugh. She looks happy, as happy as a wife of mine should look.“I didn’t take long. You just can’t stand being apart from me.”
“True,” I growl because she’s not wrong. How can I be apart from her when she’s not my sun but my moon. When everything’s dark, she still brings the light.
Our mouths meet, not separating until Mason tugs at our clothes. Taking his hands, we walk with him in between us down the alley and then we go home.
The End