Page 112 of Darling Obsession
Shelikesme? Is that what she just said?
I don’t even want her to say that.
Her eyes are glistening, but maybe it’s just the onions.
I swallow.
I’m supposed to be in control here.
But I can feel the equilibrium tipping. And I don’t even know how to stop the downward slide we’re on. The one where we both get wrecked at the bottom.
Maybe because I’ve never been here before. Wherever this is.
“Quinn. This thing between us… It’s just sex.”
For a moment, I think she’s going to reply with sass. But she says softly, “You made that clear.”
“I can’t offer you more.”
“I know.”
But she’s probing at my sharp edges, seeking more.
The thing is, she wouldn’t like me, if she knew the truth.
That I’ve lied to her about Darla all along.
And that I’m not going to stop.
Chapter 19
Harlan
When I leave my office mid-afternoon for the second time in a week, headed for home, Brant looks at me strangely, and Manus asks me if I’m unwell.
But Carlisle has informed me that Quinn is at my place, and I haven’t seen her in six days.
After we ate chicken tostadas the other night, then she insisted on cleaning up the kitchen herself rather than letting my staff do it, I took her up to my bedroom, peeled off that black-and-white dress and the lacy panties beneath, and ate her out. Until she begged for release, which has now become my favorite thing.
I know this, because it’s taken priority over all other thoughts.
The way she moans and pleads, giving herself over to me.
The way she says my name when she’s desperate, and I’m in control of her pleasure.
The way she comes for me, so hard, when I tell her she’s a good girl.
The next morning, I dropped her at home on my way to work, and ever since, it’s been slightly killing me that she hasn’t come back for more.
Every night, I’ve worked late at the office. When I come home to my silent house, I lay out by my pool or pace the length of my family room, staring at the stars or the ceiling or the floor, lost in thought. I even had Manus procure me some weed so I could smoke a joint; an old habit from college, but something I haven’t done in years.
I’ve also been drinking too much, maybe to try to fill the void she left.
It’s like there’s something missing that I never thought I needed, never wanted to need, but now that I’ve had a taste of it, I’ve stumbled upon this deep, cavernous emptiness I never noticed was there before, just lurking under the surface.
But maybe it’s always been there. Like a crack in the floor you step over so many times, and maybe throw a rug over, and you pretend it’s not there for so long, you actually start to forget.
Maybe I’m just a spoiled brat, deep down, and I don’t like being deprived of my favorite thing.
