Only Him (An Obsessed Novella Book 2)

by Jeanne St. James

  “And you still have more making up to do.”

  When he murmurs, “I look forward to it,” into my ear, I shiver and am relieved he doesn’t feel the need to escape any time soon.

  “What are the odds of you moving next door?”

  “Karma,” he says and drops a kiss on my shoulder.

  See? That’s what I thought. Some people were just meant to be together.

  Though, I’m not saying that out loud, since we’re not really “together” at this point and I don’t want to scare him away before I even get a chance to formulate our future.

  I clear my throat and my crazy thoughts. “So, what happened with you and Pam?”

  He leans back against the headboard and blows out a breath. I wiggle in closer against him and lay a palm over his chest. I study his strong jawline until he says, “Pregnancy.”

  “What?” I shake my head, confused. “You didn’t want kids?”

  He glances down at me with what looks like pain in his eyes. “I didn’t want someone else’s kid.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Yeah. Don’t feel bad, I didn’t either, until it smacked me in the face.”

  He pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear and gets serious. “She was pregnant with someone else’s baby.”

  My mouth makes an O. I’m sure my eyes do, too. Finally, I whisper, “Damn, that had to hurt.”

  “And you know, she was going to try to pass it off as mine.”

  What a bitch. “How did you find out?”

  “I caught the two of them in bed together.”

  “Damn.”

  “Did I mention it was my bed? In my house? Yeah.”

  “Well, at least you didn’t kill him. Or her.”

  “She wasn’t worth it. All those years wasted…”

  “We learn from our mistakes,” I say, trying to put a positive spin on it. Though, apparently, I’m not successful since he snorts in response.

  He tucks a finger under my chin and lifts my face to his. “I’m done making mistakes.”

  I really doubt that’s true, but I keep my mouth shut.

  “My biggest one was with you.” He continues in a rush when he sees my frown. “No, not tonight. I meant in high school.”

  Oh yeah. That mistake. I pat his thigh. “You’ll make it up to me.”

  “Sure will.”

  I squeeze the hard muscle of his thigh and then trace the contours. His thighs don’t jiggle like mine do. “You still active in sports?”

  “I play on our department’s baseball team. I run. I fuck my neighbor.”

  I glance up in surprise and laugh. “I’m not sure you can consider that a sport.”

  “Well, you wore me out, and you’ve been a good sport.”

  “Oh, I’m not done with you yet.”

  His voice becomes low and husky. “That sounds promising.”

  “I’m sure there’s some toys we missed.”

  “Yeah,” he says softly. “But we can’t get to everything tonight.”

  “So, another night,” I suggest and hold my breath.

  “Yeah,” he answers, running his fingers up and down my arm.

  Both his answer and his touch has goosebumps breaking out all over me and my nipples hardening into points all over again.

  “There was something you said earlier that we need to circle back around to.”

  Oh shit. Dare I ask? I try to deflect. “About how fucking sexy you are?” I run a finger over his six-pack (a freaking six-pack!).

  He grabs my hand and holds it still. “No. You said something about only wanting me and no one else.”

  “Oh. You caught that?” I try to pull my hand away, but he tightens his grip.

  “I’m a cop. I don’t miss much.”

  “Is it creepy?”

  He finally lets me go and rubs his hand over his face. “I don’t know. Is this—“ He waves his hand between the two of us. “Going to be like Fatal Attraction?”

  Ugh. An old movie reference. Maybe I should tell him I referred to Misery earlier and perhaps we need to be on the same page. But then, maybe I shouldn’t share that either. “No, not at all.”

  “Is what you said true?”

  My mind starts to spin and I’m not sure how to answer. At least, without making it sound worse than it already does. I mean, I only stalked him in high school. And now we’re in our early 30s, so that was a while ago. Though, I never did forget about him. And I’ve truly only wanted him. “I just had a silly high school crush.”

  “Is that all?”

  The fucker sounds disappointed! What. The. Hell. “Well…”

  He turns my face toward him. “Well, what?” he asks, his lips just above mine. Okay, he’s not playing fair, and he knows it.

  I meet his dark brown eyes and my breath escapes me in a rush. “It’s only ever been you, Reid. I’ve only ever wanted you. No one else ever compared.”

  He blinks and his eyebrows furrow. “Why?”

  I stare at his lips. I want him to kiss me. “I don’t know,” I murmur. “If I knew why, I wouldn’t have tortured myself like this. Maybe I would have found a nice guy and settled down by now.”

  “You want to settle down?”

  I lift a shoulder slightly. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I could’ve been happy with anyone else. I’m not sure if I could have been satisfied.”

  “You want to be happy.” He wasn’t asking me, he stated a fact.

  “Of course. Everyone wants to be happy. Don’t you?”

  “Of course,” he echoes. He brushes a knuckle down my cheek. “Are you happy right now?”

  “With you in my bed? Hell yes.”

  He finally kisses me, his lips moving softly over mine. He keeps his mouth closed and makes the kiss almost chaste. His tenderness makes my heart melt as quickly as the candle did earlier.

  8

  Reid

  Do I find it a little weird that the woman stalked me throughout high school? Yes. Do I find it strange that she thinks I’m the only man for her? Absolutely. Although, I’m flattered. Besides the so-called “high school crush,” she seems perfectly sane.

  Besides, who can turn down that luscious body of hers. Curves in all the right places, a mouth that could make a grown man cry. Super responsive during sex, and none of my kinky desires so far have made her bat an eye. And did I mention? She lives right next door.

  Right. Fucking. Next. Door.

  She may be the perfect woman for me.

  I’m making a lot of assumptions, though. Like she doesn’t have kids, she has gainful employment, she’s not on any psychotropic medication, and she won’t stab me in my sleep. Simple things like that.

  Maybe the next time she hits the head, I’ll check her nightstand drawers for weapons.

  I snort and she looks at me with curiosity.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” I answer. “Just thinking about that karma thing. It’s laughable.”

  “Coincidence, karma, whatever. I’ll take it.”

  Me, too. This has been a helluva night so far, and it isn’t over yet. I glance over at her clock. I haven’t stayed up this late since I was out partying in my early 20s. I can’t believe I haven’t passed out yet, but the woman lying next to me is keeping me energized it seems.

  Could I do this every night? Hell no.

  “Do you mind if I raid your fridge?”

  Sydney shifts, starting to get out of bed. “What do you need? I’ll get it.”

  I grab her arm to stop her. “No. You stay. Let me.” Although I need fluids to revive my drained body, I have other nefarious reasons to go down to her kitchen.

  Not to spy, even though it did cross my mind. Since we’re neighbors, I’ll have plenty of other opportunities to do a little digging if I need to.

  I shoot her a smile. “Want anything?”

  “Water, please.”

  I give her a nod and tromp downstairs all naked-like. Not caring if I have everything hanging out.


  I grab a couple bottles of water out of the refrigerator door and my eye catches something colorful. And my mind goes south. See? I said I had nefarious reasons. I grab it and then stare in the fridge’s interior, my mind spinning with other possibilities.

  I dig through the freezer next. And, lo-and-behold, I get an even dirtier idea. I chuckle to myself, gather my loot, and jog back upstairs.

  Okay, that’s a lie. I don’t have enough energy to jog, so I drag myself instead. That couldn’t be me doing the groaning every couple of steps, could it?

  As I come around the corner into her bedroom, I see her on her side, her eyes closed. Yeah, so it isn’t only me who’s exhausted.

  I clear my throat and her eyelids slowly lift. Then widen when she sees my goodies.

  “Whipped cream and ice pops? Do you need a sugar fix?”

  I toss her one of the bottles of water (I’m impressed with how well she catches it), then glance at the frozen pops. “They’re sugar-free.”

  “Oh yeah. But you brought up the whole box.”

  So I did.

  “Are you hungry? I could have made you something with a little more substance than frozen colored water and a topping that’s made with corn syrup.”

  I frown. “You’re turning up your nose at shit you had in your own kitchen?”

  She shrugs and laughs. “Yeah, well. It might be in my fridge, but it doesn’t mean I eat it. I do have a couple of nieces.”

  “Well, I didn’t bring it up for us to eat.” At least, not in the usual sense.

  “Oh, well then, that’s different.”

  And, holy shit, this woman seems to be up for anything. I feel like jumping, punching my fist into the air, and screaming “Hell yeah!” But I don’t, I need to save my energy because I have every intention of fucking this woman—or her fucking me—again before dawn. Once wasn’t enough.

  I have a feeling one night won’t be enough, either.

  I could see this becoming a very slippery slope where I can never get enough of her. It surprises me but worries me, too.

  I shrug it off because, you know, I’m a man, and no woman will ever own me. Right?

  Right.

  I have to do something with the popsicles soon before they turn into Kool-Aid.

  “So, what’s your plan there, pop boy?” she asks me.

  “Just you wait,” I tell her, like I have this all thought out. Which I don’t. But we can wing it. No big deal. It hits me then that the stuff probably stains, so we need to put something down on the bed. Oooooor…

  Move to the bathroom where things are washable, and then we can get as messy as we want.

  It also may be a good place to take out the anal plug which, by the way, is still up my ass. Not that I was going to forget about it, going up and down the stairs certainly reminded me.

  “Bathroom?” I ask her, tilting my head towards it.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, unless you don’t care about destroying your sheets and possibly messing up your mattress.”

  “Okay, but you still haven’t told me your plans.”

  “Come with me and you’ll find out.” I head into the bathroom to put the stuff down and check out her shower. It’s average size and might be a little tight but it’s a tub/shower combo and having somewhere to sit may be an advantage.

  Sydney comes up behind me and brushes her fingers down my spine, between my crease, and flicks the ring on the anal plug. “Not yet?”

  “No. After. When we shower.”

  She presses herself along my back and I can feel her hard nipples against my skin and just that alone gets my dick to wake back up. I’m proud of it. It hasn’t let me down once tonight.

  As her body hugs me, she reaches around to play with my cock and it doesn’t take long for it to come to full attention. But she releases me too quickly and grabs the box of ice pops, pulling one out and ripping it open. I find myself cemented in place when she slides it slowly into her mouth and acts like it’s the most delicious phallus in the whole wide world. I’m jealous.

  It's hot watching her work the frozen treat in and out of her mouth, suck and lick the tip, and close her eyes in ecstasy.

  My cock twitches and I grab it, stroking it a couple times. She takes two steps toward me and lowers herself to her knees at my feet. And, oh shit, this was not a part of my non-existent plan. But I hurry and pencil it in.

  Her mouth makes little slurpy sucking sounds around the slippery pop and then she pulls it out, takes control of my hard-on to slide her cold mouth right over me.

  Holy popsicle. It’s a crazy feeling but—

  A groan escapes me.

  She alternates from sucking the pop to sucking my dick and the semi-formulated plan to use the popsicle on her disintegrates. At least for the moment. Her lips become a bright red from the cherry-flavored coloring, and she works the tip of my erection like a champ.

  Every time she takes me into her ice cold mouth, it’s shocking until we both heat up again. From freezing cold to burning hot. I realize what a genius I am for bringing the whole box upstairs.

  As she holds the melting pop above my cock, it drips on me and she licks it away. And, fuck me, do I want to come all over her face. You’d think the cold would make me shrivel up to nothing, but no, I’m as hard as a rock. (Yeah, I did say I’m proud of myself, right?)

  The floor is starting to get slippery and we need to move into the shower. So, I grab her under her arms and haul her up. She throws what’s left of the stick in the sink and smiles at me. Her lips are coated with the red sticky mess and her chin needs a good wipe down. But fuck that. I jerk her to me and lick her clean. I slide my tongue over her lips and then kiss her hard until she grabs at me for balance.

  Yeah, I kissed her that hard.

  “Sit on the edge of the tub, feet in.” I think that’s the first order I’ve given her tonight, and she doesn’t hesitate. When she settles on the edge of the tub, I grab the whipped cream canister and another pop and follow her, barely squeezing in enough to face her. “Spread your knees.” She does. My cock jerks in anticipation. “That’s it,” I whisper and stare at her pussy. It’s pink and smooth and looks so much more edible than the dessert in my hand.

  I drop to my knees between her legs and squirt some whipped cream into my mouth. Then I kiss her again. I open wide and invite her in, her tongue scooping the sweet cream from me.

  Fuck, the intimacy of that makes me want to come.

  I pull away and squirt some on her lips as an excuse to suck on her bottom lip. Then I move to her breasts and cover her nipples completely with the sticky topping. I draw a pattern over her belly and down to her hips. Then follow it with my lips, my tongue, and my teeth as I nibble along her skin, making sure to uncover those perky nipples of hers.

  “You are the best dessert I’ve ever eaten,” I murmur. And it’s true.

  Her answering chuckle makes me want to fuck her right then and there, but I didn’t bring the popsicles upstairs to just let them melt. Though, I’m quickly bored with the dessert topping and put it to the side to concentrate on the grape ice pop in my hand. I push her knees open even wider.

  “Open yourself up to me. I want to see you.”

  “Like this?” she asks, her eyes shadowed and her breathing shallow between her parted lips.

  “Yes, like that,” I whisper, pressing the slick end of the frozen pop to her clit. She jerks and cries out at the shock of cold. I pull it away and replace it with my hot mouth. I do it again and again. Cold then hot until her fingers dig into my shoulders, her back arches, and she throws her head back. Before the pop can melt down too far, I slip it into her, slowly fucking her with it. I suck her clit, working the popsicle in and out of her as it drips down her thighs, the side of the tub, and pools at my knees. When that’s gone, I grab another out of the box and continue until she’s about to explode. As long as I don’t explode first.

  I remove what’s left of the pop from her and press it against her nipple,
watching it pucker into a hard peak. Her body breaks out in goosebumps and she shivers. She takes the pop from my fingers and circles both nipples with it, leaving trails of orange flavored liquid behind. The drips run down the curves of her breasts and over her belly, collecting in the narrow patch of hair above her pussy.

  She reminds me of a piece of art, with orange, purple, and red colors painted over her body. My ex-wife would never have allowed herself to look like this, to be so messy. But not Sydney, she takes it in stride. She’s having as much fun as I am. As the pops melt, the discarded wooden sticks end up stuck to the bottom and sides of the tub.

  She unwraps the last one and stands. It’s another grape. She starts to draw over my body so I’m just as sticky and messy as her. She giggles as she writes her name across my back. She decorates my face with “war paint.” She turns my nipples just as hard as hers, but she laps the grape flavoring away and holy hell, I knew I liked my nipples played with but her sucking and flicking them with her tongue makes me want to spin her around and fuck her from behind.

  I must have made a sound, because she says, “Mmm. You like when I suck your nipples.”

  Hell yeah, I do, but I can only grunt an answer and dig my fingers into her hair to hold her in place. She sucks them harder, scraping her teeth over the tiny tips. I drop one hand down to cup her ass, pulling her tighter against me to thrust against her belly. I don’t want to come yet, but I just might not be able to stop myself.

  Especially when she squeezes my balls at the same time she nips my nipple. Fuck.

  “I’m buying Fudgsicles next time I’m at the store,” she murmurs against my chest. I want to laugh but I can’t, because I’m too busy picturing myself fucking her with a fudge pop. Or watching her fuck herself. It’s fucking weird, true, but it’s hot, too. There may be another place on her where I want to stick a Fudgsicle. Which quickly brings me back to my dilemma.

  The anal plug. But I want to fuck her once more with it in first. And though I brought the freezer pops and the whipped cream canister into the bathroom with us, I forgot the most important thing. Condoms. They are still in the bedroom and even though they are only steps away, it seems like a trek to Siberia.