Page 3 of Deadly Obsession

“Tell me what you’d like me to do to him, Sage,” he said.

I was confused at first.

“He touched you without your consent. I can turn him over to the police or I can make sure he’ll never touch another woman again.”

I chose option two because, in my experience, police won’t be able to do anything unless there’s evidence, and even if he’s arrested, the jails are too crowded, and he’dlikely be released only to go on and find another woman to violate.

Boss seemed pleased with my answer and made a phone call. I overheard him saying something about ‘tying him up’ and ‘I’ll be there soon to take care of him.’ I pretended not to know exactly what that meant, and I should have felt bad for dooming the groper to that fate.

But I don’t.

When he hung up, he approached me, putting himself between me and the door, never letting his eyes stray from mine.

“How do you know my name?”

“I know the name of every person who walks through my doors.”

“Are you kicking me out?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I punched that guy?”

He shook his head, some of his dark hair falling across his forehead.

“Okay. If you’re not kicking me out, then I think I’ll go back downstairs. I could really use—”

I tried to walk past him, but he grabbed my arm.

“What do you need? Tell me.”

I needed a good fuck, but I wasn’t about to tell him that, especially with him being all demanding. Mostly because it pissed me off how much I wanted to obey his orders.

“Tell me. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

Instead of telling him, I showed him. I grabbed him by the lapels of his suit jacket to bring him down to my mouth—since he was so goddamn tall—and devoured him.

Then I let him fold me over his desk and fuck me into a near catatonic state.

Boss narrows his blue eyes and stands, realizing I’m not backing down.

So hecantake orders.

Good.

“Go on then,” I say when he doesn’t make a move.

The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Come over here and undress me,” he says.

Touché.

We’re both fighting for control. I would fight harder if he hadn’t just given me two of the most mind-blowing orgasms I’ve ever had.

I walk to him. I’m taller than the average woman, but that’s nothing compared to this man’s height. He’s at least six foot six if I had to guess.

I unbutton his black dress shirt the rest of the way and place my palms flat on his meaty chest. It’s covered in an elaborate tattoo design: a skull in the middle wrapped in barbed wires with black roses mixed in. There’s a gun on his right pec and a knife on his left.