The Object Of My Obsession Page 3

  He seemed so sure. I nodded in agreement, my legs still twitching from the last saps of my orgasm.

  "Relax, breathe.” He said as he pushed the tip of his cock to my anus.

  I watched him watch himself as he pushed against me. His face was pink, his neck strained against the effort and his chest flushed with color as well. He was the one needing to breathe I decided as he pushed the head past the tight ring of defense.

  I gasped.

  He let out his breath. Pushed in another inch then pulled back before sliding even deeper.

  I swallowed hard, fought tears, gripped the bedding and tried to relax.

  "Be right there.” He said and adjusted himself over me. Now face to face he stilled. “You're beautiful."

  I opened my mouth to say something and he kissed me. Slowly, passionately he began fucking me as though he were making love to my pussy instead of my ass. He reached down between us, balanced on one arm, his lower body weight resting on me as he thrust in and out, he circled my clit and the pressure was too intense.

  "Too much.” I sniffed.

  "You do it.” He kissed a tear from my left eye. “Am I hurting you?"

  "No.” I shook my head. He wasn't, I didn't know why the hell I was crying. I just was.

  "Come for me.” He licked my neck, pulled skin between his teeth and marked me. He trailed kisses up my neck and my hand obeyed him. I pushed between us and he balanced evenly on both of his arms again. “Yeah that's it. I can feel you rubbing yourself. I want to watch you come. I want you to feel what it's like this way. I want you to remember me when you leave."

  As if, I would forget! He kissed me again, more intense, eating at my mouth the way he now knew made me weak. He picked up the pace and I found myself chasing the sensation of an orgasm. Each clench earned a groan from him, his face twisted; his breath came heavy, sweat poured off of him and onto me.

  "Fuck,” He shouted.

  "Yes.” I cried. “More."

  "Almost there.” He was waiting for me. I could feel his prick hard inside me. I could feel every bit of resistance as I tightened for release. It was an effort for him to move as I wound up for the break.

  "Jacob!” I cried out and he groaned a long loud roar of a sound in my ear.

  I felt each pulse and throb around him. I felt each twitch and jerk of his cock inside me. I knew now I had not lied to all of those people who asked if it was enjoyable. I told them it was a personal preference. I realized now it had everything to do with the partner.

  He slowly pulled out of me and then collapsed on top of me letting his full weight rest on me as he caught his breath.

  I relished the feel of him. His weight, his scent, I ran my hand up his back and caressed his shoulders, his spine. His lips kissed my shoulder then curled in a lazy smile. “When does your plane leave again?"

  His breath was growing slow and heavy. “In a few hours. We should probably shower now don't you think?"

  He nodded against my shoulder. “So..."

  "What?"

  "Never mind.” He pushed up, bussed a kiss across my nose and got off the bed. “Come on."

  I wasn't sure if my legs were going to work. I lifted one heavy limb then the other. My butt hurt. The tiny hole ached with pleasure and pain as it constricted to return to normal.

  "Water's ready.” He said as I approached the bathroom.

  I shook my head as I climbed into the shower with the object of my obsession. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect all of this. He was easy to be around. I became afraid of talking to him in an instant. He could ruin everything by saying something real stupid right now. So could I.

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  Temporary One

  The warm water rolled over his sinewy body and I almost slipped from nerves and not paying attention to anything other than his ass as I got in the shower with him.

  "Careful.” He grabbed my arm as he turned and held me.

  I looked up into those eyes and my lips curved into a smile of content. “You look good wet."

  "Yeah?” he asked as if he didn't already know that. “You're okay right?"

  "I'm fine. More than fine. I'm standing in the shower with my object of lust.” I closed one eye as water sprayed into it as he moved to face the water again.

  "Lust huh?"

  "Well.” I shrugged and touched his firm buttocks with both hands gripping them, sizing them, and enjoying myself. “You are pretty lusty."

  He laughed. “What were your questions?"

  "What questions?” I ran my hand up his back trying to remember every muscle, every angle, everything about this moment.

  "The interview.” He turned and surprised me by squeezing a dollop of shampoo in his hand then working it into my hair. I didn't like the hotel shampoo but I wouldn't dare say that now. He continued massaging. “What did you want to ask me?"

  "I ... I” Hell if I know. How could he possibly expect me to think when he was massaging my scalp? He stopped then waited until I opened my eyes again and looked at him. “I'm sorry. I, uh, well general things."

  "Like?” He let me rinse my hair and then he applied conditioner.

  "Like, I can't concentrate with you doing that.” I didn't mean it to sound like a chastisement but really, he was too much to process.

  "Oh.” He stopped and stepped back.

  "I'm sorry. I'm just ... you know it's weird. I mean you're being so fucking awesome to me. I really feel a little off balance. In my head you were just there until I came, then I went to sleep. Here, I mean you're really here. I mean I don't want to ask questions, I want to touch you and feel you, and I am afraid if I talk to you I might say something stupid, really stupid and then this will all disappear.” He arched a brow and his jaw ticked as his lips pursed on one side. “What?"

  "You're cute all worked up like that.” His shoulders raised and lowered. “So, you don't want the interview?"

  My mouth opened then closed.

  "So you do want the interview?"

  I stood there on trembling stems. My ass ached, my pussy was still swollen and raw, my clit over sensitized and swollen, thoroughly fucked and suddenly tired, and he wanted to do the interview. “Okay."

  "Okay.” He stepped out of the shower and I took the time I needed to collect myself. I walked out with my hair in a towel and a robe wrapped around me. He sat in his towel at the table drinking a soda from the stocked refrigerator. I hate those things; they charge three times more than it cost to walk ten feet to a vending machine.

  I grabbed my own five dollar soda from the refrigerator and my notebook from my purse. I took a seat at the table across from him.

  "Give me your foot.” He held a hand out under the table.

  "No.” I laugh. “I can't do his if you're touching me."

  "Sure you can.” He motioned for me to give him my foot anyways.

  Why is that men always ask for what you are the most insecure about? My feet are sensitive, big, ugly, and oh my...

  "Ask the question.” He looks at me then back at my foot in his hand. His thumb rubs the arch and I can't stifle a moan. “Like that?"

  I shake my head and pull it from his grip. “Okay, so tell me what made you want to be a part of such a controversial film?"

  I jot down his answers to the top four questions then I ask him about his co-star.

  "She's a good girl. Pretty, young, and a great actress. She has a future ahead of her unless we ruined her career with this film.” He laughed. “But seriously, I need a woman in my life that isn't afraid to take chances. A woman who is secure in her own skin. I have a lot of girls who write me letters, send me gifts, it's all part of the movie thing. Truth is, I don't want to date another actress. I don't want to compete with her, or vice versa. I want someone who can travel with me, who will challenge me, who lets me get my way sometimes,” he winked, and I blushed, “Someone who adores me, and someone I can adore."

  I gulp. I know it can't be me. “Well, thank you. For everything."


  "You're welcome, for everything.” He licked those lush lips again and I fight the urge to beg him to let me suck him off one last time.

  "I should get ready to go. I only have a few hours and technically I should be at the airport by now.” Reluctantly I close my notebook. I did what I came to do and then some. These were two days I would remember for the rest of my life.

  "All right.” He nodded.

  We dressed in separate rooms. He went into the bathroom. I could hear him pee, then flush the toilet, then turn on the sink. I could imagine him pulling clothes over that body and I knew when he stepped out he would look as put together when he left as he did when he walked into the door. I on the other hand looked a wreck. My blouse had a new crease in it from the way it landed on the floor; my hair was damp and pulled back in a school teacher bun, all make-up removed without time to replace it.

  "So do you have a business card or something?” He stuffed his hands into his front pockets and leaned against the doorframe.

  My heart fluttered. “Yes."

  I dug into my purse and pulled out the same card I gave everyone else.

  "This is a good number?” He pulled a hand out of his pocket and then looked the card over.

  "Of course.” I nod.

  "Good.” He smiled. “Do you ever use messaging?"

  "Yeah, all the time, why?” I check to make sure I have everything zipped up and packed away in the bags. In my head, I see us performing naughty acts over instant messaging with the use of a video camera. “The I-M I-D is on there."

  "So if I send you a request..."

  "I'd accept.” I smile uncontrollably.

  He wiggles his eyebrows and tucks the card in his front pocket. “I need to sneak out of here if that's okay with you."

  He lifts off the doorframe and steps towards me.

  That easily I am falling in lust again. “I had a great time. I promise not to tell anyone about it."

  "Thank you.” He tugged me into his arms and hugged me tight. “I had an amazing time. You have no idea how much I needed this, maybe you will though, and soon."

  What a weird thing to say I thought, but he tilted my head up to meet his lips as they came down on mine for a quick kiss.

  "See ya.” He smacked then cupped my butt cheek playfully, less stinging than before. My clit throbbed, and I knew ... it was the start of a whole new obsession.

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  Brokenheartsville

  Stretching, scratching, and groaning I roll my ass out bed and face the day. The sun is too bright, the milk is a day old, and it has been two weeks since I left California. The mark he left on my neck is long gone. My ass doesn't feel any different than it did before his invasion. Everything is back to normal, except me.

  Needless to say the object of my obsession, one Mr. Hollywood movie star Jacob Brandon has not called, e-mailed, or sent me an instant message.

  I turn on the computer and as it loads I pour a cup of coffee, resigned that today I will not hope to see his name on my incoming mail list, that I won't have a friend request for my messenger, that the phone will only ring if it is Brittany, my best friend in this world, calling me. Or work, my article increased hits to the website and now I have more reader questions than I have had in two years.

  I sit down and begin my morning workday of sorting e-mails from readers into their appropriate bins so that I can decide what I want to research next, or if I will be lazy and revisit an old topic. I'm irked at all the questions I am getting about the Hollywood interview. It was my first celebrity article and my readers are going nuts with questions about them.

  The messenger box pops up with a friend request from crzyjake93

  Crzyjake93: Hey, it's me

  Sonjaqanda: Me who?

  Crzyjake93: ah, forgotten me already?

  Sonjaqanda: do I know you?

  Crzyjake93: Jacob

  Sonjaqanda: seriously, how do I know this is you?

  Crzyjake93: accept my request as a friend

  Sonjaqanda: not likely

  Crzyjake93: so I guess you didn't appreciate that last smack on the ass?

  The curser sat blinking at me, mocking me really. Was this some sick joke? Or was it really him?

  Crzyjake93: Sonja?

  I accept the add friend request. My heart pounds in my chest to the point that I hear it in my ears. This is it; he is really talking to me. I am overjoyed, I am furious.

  Sonjaqanda: how is California?

  Crzyjake93: I just got home

  Sonjaqanda: good4u

  Crzyjake93: NY

  Crzyjake93: don't be mad

  Sonjaqanda: I'm not

  Crzyjake93: :-(

  Sonjaqanda: how is NY?

  Crzyjake93: Do you have a web cam

  Sonjaqanda: no

  Crzyjake93: get one

  Sonjaqanda: ?

  Crzyjake93: forget it, I'm calling

  My eyes roll up as if to say whatever to the computer screen, but the phone rings. The caller ID tells me it is a private number. No doubt.

  "Hello?” I ask annoyed and excited at the same time. My head is really not cooperating with my heart at this moment.

  "Why are you mad at me?” His liquid voice runs into my throbbing ears and I begin to soften immediately.

  "I'm not mad.” I lie.

  "Ah, so then you have moved on to stalk another.” He laughs at his statement.

  "I haven't moved on to anything. I did get a lot of questions on the article though. A lot of people want to know about you and your co-star, they say there are pictures of you two together in LA having lunch, shopping.” I know my voice betrays me yet I can't stop saying all the wrong things despite myself.

  "I'm in New York. I spent another week in LA and yes I hung out with her, but I didn't fuck her if that's what you're getting at.” Now he sounded annoyed.

  "It's not my business if you did.” My inside voice is screaming right now to stop this before I really mess things up. I have Jacob Brandon on the phone, he has called me, sent me an instant message, and now I am acting like a love sick teenager instead of a grown woman who understands what we did in California was just a fling.

  "What's the weather like there?” He asks.

  I think about it. I look out the kitchen window and see overcast skies, “Why did you wait two weeks? I mean I didn't need you to call me the next day, but my ass hurt for three and I could have used a phone call, an e-mail, something."

  He laughs, I'm not mad anymore. I can almost see him smiling into the phone. “Yeah, about that. It took me a while to get the nerve up."

  "Bullshit.” Now I am laughing. Like he needs courage to call me for crying out loud.

  "Oh, what you think because I'm an actor I have lines lying around?” He says then sobers, “I don't have anything to do for a few weeks. Can I come see you?"

  The words ring in my ear. I don't believe him, “Sure. Why not?"

  He is silent on the other end. I hear him moving around and it sounds like he is opening a drawer then closing it. He lets out a breath and says, “This weekend?"

  "Why not?” I shrug. I don't believe him for one minute. After all, it took two weeks for him to call, and, no ... I won't get my hopes up. Now I am lying to myself. My nerves are kicking in. He may actually be serious. I look around my kitchen and think about what he would look like in it. My right foot is now tapping the floor at a pace that sounds like a rabbit thumping the ground.

  "See you then.” He hangs up.

  How rude.

  I type the words “You don't know where I live” in the IM box.

  I get a smiley face back as a reply.

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  Beautiful Wings

  I understand why my grandmother said she could wear a hole in a rug. I have followed the well worn path from my living room to my kitchen, to the dining room, stopping at the front door to look out, then make the track around again. I have done this so many times that I can
't keep track of the count. All morning, all afternoon. I feel like a nut case.

  I know he is not really coming, or is he? I don't really know. He didn't call or e-mail or IM me after our talk. I have been wound up all week. My article is done, Brittany knows something is up. I thank God she lives in California or else she would have been over by now. I haven't told her. I don't know why. I just can't seem to admit this is real to anyone.

  The phone rings and I make a mad dash for it. “Hello?"

  "Sonja, I was hoping you could do me a favor.” My boss is always looking for favors. “I need someone to review a few products we were sent and they seem more up your alley."

  "No more sex toys, I have enough.” I plop down on the couch and shake my head. I get a shipment of products almost every month from companies wanting me to mention their items in my article. They ship to the post office box, and all my mail shipped there is forwarded to me here. It works since I don't want to give my home address. It is a two hour drive to town from my house so the Postmaster set it up for me.

  "Not toys,” he groans and I know he is reaching for something. “It's a bunch of clothing items. They sent a catalogue I just need to give them an address."

  "Sure why not?” I hear what sounds like a knock but I am certain it is my mind playing tricks on me.

  "They want to advertise so it's important...” his voice trails off as I decidedly do hear a knock at the front door.

  "Sure, send em'. Look, I gotta go.” I hang up on him and walk toward the front door.

  I had paced for hours at the speed of light and somehow now, when he may actually be here, my feet are dragging forward.

  The knock on the door is louder this time, more impatient. Then I hear him.

  "Sonja,” he says, and then fires off another knock.

  The solid wood door conceals us from one another. He doesn't know that I am trying to get there. When I open the door, he is lifting his duffle bag as if he were going to walk away. “Hey."

  He turns, looks me up and down, and then pushes a hand through his silky brown locks as I come undone. “Hey."

  I can't believe he is here. This is more real than reality, it is real to the point of fantasy and so I switch over in my mind and accept the fantasy. It works. I pull myself together and invite him in.