#OBSESSED

by Frankie Love

  Contents

  Copyright

  About

  1. Aubrey

  2. Braden

  3. Aubrey

  4. Braden

  5. Aubrey

  6. Braden

  7. Aubrey

  8. Braden

  9. Aubrey

  Epilogue

  Preview

  Also by Frankie Love

  About the Author

  #OBSESSED

  Frankie Love

  Copyright

  JOIN FRANKIE LOVE’S

  MAILING LIST

  AND NEVER MISS A RELEASE!

  And find Frankie on FB!

  https://www.facebook.com/groups/FrankieLoveBooks/

  Edited by

  Teresa Banschbach

  ICanEdit4U

  Copyright © 2018 by Frankie Love

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  About

  #OBSESSED By Frankie Love

  Ever since I saw him on the big screen of Space Battles with his black mask and massive sword, I was smitten.

  Okay, that’s not true.

  I was hard-core crushing.

  I was envisioning our future babies and could just imagine the headlines: Hottest Man in the Galaxy Falls For Average Jane

  At Fandom-Con, a convention for die-hards like me, I find it impossible to resist a masked stranger's offer to bring my virgin-girl fantasies to life.

  So what if it's role-playing? This intriguing stranger looks just like the real thing. He has a sword of his own … and looks like he knows how to use it.

  But make-believe isn't enough for me, I want the real thing. And there's no way I can have that--or can I?

  Dear Reader,

  I know I’m not the only one with a celebrity crush!

  #OBSESSED is my ridiculous fantasy brought to life.

  I was inspired by a certain movie star who makes me blush an embarrassing amount every time I see him on screen.

  Who says grown-up women can’t have a little fun?

  Just maybe don’t tell my husband, LOL.

  #noshame #hardcorecrushing #nevertoomuch

  xo, frankie

  Chapter One

  Aubrey

  It’s sexy, but not too sexy.

  And that is super important. I want this outfit to look as close to the actual movie character Starla as possible, while still flattering my curves. The brown leather belt was a good call. As I cinch it around my waist, I bite my lip — I think I’ve nailed it.

  My phone buzzes and I reach for it on my dresser. It’s Jenna, my best friend. I read the text, my heart falling as I do.

  Don’t be mad... but I can’t come. Trevor refuses to watch Kallen and I can’t find anyone else.

  My thumbs hover over my keypad. I don’t want to tell her how disappointed I am. Her baby-daddy, Trevor, is a total flake and I hate that for her, but the last thing she needs is a friend pointing out what she already knows.

  Besides, she doesn’t really care about dressing up as a character from Space Battles--the most epic movie franchise of all time. She was doing this because she’s a good friend.

  I text back: I’m sorry boo. There’s always next year. I guess I’ll have to fight off all the Neros on my own. ;)

  I can practically hear her snorting. They’re gonna be all over you in that barely-there costume you made.

  I don’t want all of them. I want THE ONE, I text back.

  Give Braden Bentley a kiss for me.

  I smirk. Yeah right. If I see him, I’ll be kissing him for myself.

  You’re so horny for a fictional character, she types.

  No, I’m horny for Nero, specifically, I type, clarifying my position. Who is played by the very real actor Braden Bentley, sex god and my all-around role-playing fantasy.

  I hit send, regretting nothing. I am so into this movie star it’s not even funny, and Jenna knows it. When he pulled out his glowing sword in the final battle of the latest movie I spontaneously orgasmed. He is just that hot.

  TMI AUBREY!! my BFF writes as if reading my mind.

  #NoSuchThing, I type.

  #OBSESSED is all she replies with, marking it the final word on the subject. And it’s the truest thing ever.

  I’ve had a hardcore crush on Braden-slash-Nero since the moment I laid eyes on his dark and forbidding brown irises on a movie screen. I may be a twenty-four-year-old professional seamstress 363 days a year but then there are the other two days where I can dress up like his co-star and head to the closest Fandom-Con.

  For the last six years, I’ve attended like a convert to the religion of Nero. I would get down on my knees and worship his glowing sword however he’d like.

  Of course, he’s never attended the Fandom-Cons I make it to. And, even if he did, I’d be so busy wiping the drool from my mouth, that I wouldn’t be able to formulate the words to the sentence he deserves, aka, LET ME BE YOUR SEX TOY FOREVERRRR.

  That would be too much, too intense--but absolutely true.

  When I get to the city center it’s packed. I swear, there are people at this convention dressed as every character in every comic, film, or television show ever created, milling about. It’s hard not to stare--some of these ensembles are insanely impressive.

  I wish I weren’t alone as I stand in the check-in line at the hotel across the street from the convention center. So, I text Jenna to pass the time. She tells me to put my phone away and be social, which I do. Though it’s hard; I’m not exactly oozing with confidence.

  But then the convention-goers behind me compliment me on my Starla outfit, and I lift my chin, thanking the couple, and try to muster up the courage to talk to them.

  “I like your costumes, too. I mean, who doesn’t like Jon Snow and the Mother of Dragons?”

  “Thanks,” the woman says, laughing. “I’ve been on a diet for three months, so I could zip up this dress.”

  “Well, you look freaking awesome. Did you make the dragon yourself?” I ask her, pointing to the little creature propped on her shoulder.

  “I did,” she says, and then introduces herself as Mindy. “But my husband, Trey painted him for me.”

  “Nice work,” I tell him with a smile. “I love that you guys are into this together. That’s the dream right there, isn’t it? Finding someone who thinks your obsessions are fun, not freaky?”

  We move up in line and the man shrugs. “I mean, why be in a relationship if your partner doesn’t appreciate you, quirks and all?”

  “Agreed,” I say.

  “Did you come alone?” Mindy asks.

  I nod. “Yeah. My best friend backed out at the last second.”

  “Hmmm,” she says. “Maybe you’ll meet a Nero while you’re here.”

  I laugh. “There seem to be dozens of them in that signature black mask.”

  “Sure,” Mindy says, grinning. “But you need to find the one with the biggest sword.”

  Trey snorts. “That’s kinda--”

  I cut him off. “Honest?”

  We all crack up and she adds, “The thing is, a costume may be nice and all, but what’s underneath matters too.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, laughing, as I move to the front of the line. “Not sure they would be interested in me, but I guess it would be worth finding out.” At the check-in counter, I look to my left. Standing right next to me is a Nero... and I’m guessing he just heard everything that was just said.

  I turn around to the GoT couple and see they are covering their mouths, laughing as I discreetly point to the masked man. Like th
e other Neros, the only thing visible is his mouth. Awkward much?

  After I get my hotel room card, I begin to wheel my luggage away, waving goodbye to my newfound allies. Just as I’m about to reach the bank of elevators, I hear a deep voice say my name.

  Well, not my actual name, but he calls out to Starla.

  “Meet me in the hotel bar in an hour,” he says. “I’m buying you a drink.”

  I turn on my heels, looking the Nero from the check-in desk up and down.

  “Say what?” I ask, honestly shocked that he is asking me out. He is tall and clearly ripped. He is wearing the signature costume, tight black pants, boots to his calves. Black leather cords are wrapped around his chiseled torso--and a tight tunic that reveals every inch of muscle he might have.

  I swallow. I have no idea what he looks like under the mask, but maybe I don’t care.

  I came here to have fun--to play out my fantasy. And this guy is dressed up just like my Hollywood crush.

  “I heard you back there,” he tells me. “Heard you might be looking for a Nero with a big sword.”

  My cheeks burn with embarrassment... but also interest. He rests his gloved hand on the faux sword that’s attached to his leather belt. I swallow. Just how big is his sword?

  “And you think you have that?” I ask. “What I want?”

  “Oh, I know I do,” he says, walking toward me with intent. He is less than a foot away and I feel a desire to play out my fantasy roll over me. Through me. Up and down me. “And if you meet me for a drink,” he says, “you might just get a chance to find out.”

  Then he turns on his heels and walks away, leaving me breathless.

  And absolutely sure of where I’ll be in one hour’s time.

  Chapter Two

  Braden

  It takes every bit of control in me to not press her against the door, to rip off my mask and kiss those sweet pink lips of hers. To push her inside the elevator and run my hands over the skin-tight costume she wears.

  The moment I saw her in line, I knew she would be mine--those curvy hips, that long dark hair, those tits so full and round--there was no question.

  As I watched her chat easily with the GoT lookalike, my blood grew hot and my desire swelled. Sure, the guy was married, but I wanted her talking to me.

  Only me.

  Damn, she may be playing the part of Starla this weekend, but I have all kinds of ideas about the part I need her to play for the rest of our lives.

  The role of my lover. My sex toy in real life. I may be like any other guy in some ways... but there is a reason I was drawn to the character of Nero. He was dark and wounded, and fucking loved the idea of making a woman beg. Pant. Pray.

  It stirred something deep inside me, resonated with me to my core. Sure, I had a fucked-up childhood, but now I am a grown-ass man. Not every woman can handle a man like me--a man with a hunger for kinky sex, and a need to push the limits and go deeper into space.

  Ever since my breakout role in that movie, I can’t seem to meet a woman who sees me as me. I want a partner who doesn’t think she knows me just because she’s seen my face. I want a woman who is just as interested in what’s behind the mask.

  Of course, that’s what I thought I wanted in a partner--then I see her. A woman so beautiful, I can’t help but ask her out.

  I’d say I am a hypocrite... but damn, then she opened her mouth, she was funny, she was self-deprecating, and most of all, she was real. Her voice lighthearted and sincere, her conversation with that couple genuine and honest... and then those eyes. She thought she was being discreet when she looked over at me, but she wasn’t. I saw. I saw her.

  And she has no idea who I am.

  I’m going to keep it that way until I am absolutely certain that she is interested in me for me--without knowing my financial status or my fame. The real me.

  I count the minutes until it’s time to meet her in the hotel bar. And when she finally walks in, I suppress a grin. I want to come right out and tell her she is my fucking dream come true, but I need to keep it cool. God knows I don’t want to scare her off.

  I’ve already ordered us a bottle of the nicest tequila they stock and when she walks up to our discreetly positioned booth in the very back of the bar, she eyes it suspiciously.

  “You’re a tequila man?” she asks with a glimmer in her eye.

  “You could say that. Isn’t it what Nero and Starla drink in Space Battles?” I ask as if I don’t already know the answer.

  “Of course it is, don’t act like you don’t know that,” she says with a laugh that reaches her eyes. “No one dresses up in a costume as authentic as what you’ve got on without knowing every bit of Space Battles trivia.”

  “True,” I say, knowing if she could see me right now, she’d see a heat rise on my face.

  It’s probably not fair, the fact that she is maskless and my face is covered from the nose up. I know exactly what I’m getting when I come on to her... she, on the other hand, doesn’t have any idea of what I look like.

  And for that I’m glad.

  She’d make all sorts of judgments if I weren’t hidden behind this mask, and I don’t want to deal with that right now. First, I want to get to know one another. I want her to know me for me. Nothing else.

  She slides into the booth, right next to me, and a need grows inside me at being so damn close to her. It’s taking all my self-control to not run my hand up her thigh and tell her all my plans.

  She must feel it, the connection, because she leans back and lets out a sigh.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “It just… I don’t know. I never get picked up on by guys in hotel lobbies. Especially not guys that look like...”

  “Look like what?”

  “Like you.”

  “You don’t know what I look like.”

  She bites her bottom lip, her eyes lowering to my groin. “Well, I mean... You may be wearing a mask, but I can practically see your sword.”

  I laugh deep and low from behind the mask and she seems to like it.

  “So, tell me,” she says as I pour her a shot of tequila. “Why are you here?”

  “Fan of the franchise. You?”

  She scrunches up her nose. “I need more than that, Nero. I need to know the why.”

  I run my hand over my shoulder. “I love this kind of thing.”

  “The dressing up or the meeting famous people part?”

  “The dressing up,” I say. “I could care less about celebrities. What about you?”

  She lifts the shot of tequila to her lips, and I match her movements. We clink glasses then throw them back, her laughter like a thousand tiny bells, light and airy.

  “I’m a seamstress. I sew for a living. Making costumes is kinda my jam. And I love coming to Fandom-Con because it’s inspiring, seeing so many amazing pieces of art, everyone crushing over their favorite fandom. It’s just... happy. I like happy. The world is confusing and it’s overwhelming. But then there is a little break in clouds. I can put on a costume and pretend that I’m in the world of my choosing.”

  I nod, listening to her, and loving how simple it is--she loves her job, that’s obvious, and she’s positive; not some whiny woman who finds a reason to complain about every little thing. She is a breath of fresh air and exactly the kind of girl I need in my life. Want.

  “I get it. People come here to belong, there aren’t any haters.” I pour us a second shot each. “So, the world you’d choose is Space Battles?”

  She grins. “Wouldn’t you? I mean, look at us. We’re kinda hardcore.”

  “Oh, I’d definitely choose this world. In space, all pretenses are gone; people are fighting for something that matters. It’s always life or death.”

  She nods, understanding me. “Yeah, the stakes are high. And that might scare some people, but what I like about the stories is that the characters are willing to risk it all; take a chance. Succeed on an epic level or die trying.”

  I twist my lips. “It’s
like you’re reading my mind.”

  She wiggles her eyebrows at that. “Kinda like Starla and Nero read one another’s minds in the movie?”

  I bite hard on my bottom lip, pouring us both another round. “Does that turn you on, the idea of being seen like that?”

  She exhales before taking the shot. “Um, honestly? I think it’s hot as hell.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

  “Go on,” I urge her, wanting more than anything to pull her in my lap, stare into her eyes and tell her my filthiest secrets, my kinkiest desires.

  “Uh, so like, it’s super hot,” she admits. Her pink tongue darts from her mouth, her eyes thick with a depth that has my cock aching. “When Nero is taking control of Starla’s mind, filling her head with all sorts of ideas... plans, desires. It’s dangerous, but also kinda beautiful. Especially when they give into one another and they both get what they crave.”

  My jaw tenses, her understanding of the characters is exactly what drew me to take this role. “They were desperate, and they could only be satiated by one another.”

  “Exactly,” she says, leaning away from me. “I’d die for that kind of connection.”

  “Do you think it’s real? Possible?” I ask.

  “Maybe,” she says slowly. “Or maybe it’s just a fantasy, not real life.”

  “But you hope that isn’t true?”

  She swallows. “Honestly? I’ve been holding out for that kind of connection.”

  My cock practically groans at the thought of what her words might mean. “When you say holding out, what do you mean exactly?”