Obsession Ch. 03

"Careful." His voice was gentle, but held a playful warning, his lips right next to my ear. Long moments of pause escaped before I twisted my hips, nestling back against him in a dare. His grip seized me with sudden force that wrenched a gasp from me, turning me face-first into my bedsheets. He swiftly covered my body with his, fit his cock to me, and pushed inside. Sinking his teeth into my shoulder, a low sexy moan sent me reeling. He worked into a quick rhythm, pushing himself into me forcefully, driving the vowels from the back of my throat before I could catch myself. He began fucking me faster, yanking me up onto my hands and knees from behind and then his hips slammed against me violently before he pulled out, leaving me achingly empty. I felt him ejaculate onto the small of my back and I could do nothing but lay there before him.

"Good morning." I knew exactly the smile he wore from his tone alone.

"Fuck! Not fair!" I whined. He knew I preferred him to cum inside me.

"Oh?" He grew instantly patronizing. I resented that it riled me up so much. "You know, I actually had other plans, but I've just had a stroke of genius."

"That's great, but in the linen closet right next to the bathroom there should be some clean towels. "

"What for?" I could tell he was smirking by his voice.

"Come on, clean this off me." I was starting to feel antsy.

"You have grown awfully demanding, my dear."

"I hate when you call me that."

He cupped his hand over my naked pussy, squeezing gently. "I think you need a reminder as to who's in charge here." He peeled the lips of my pussy apart and groaned at the wetness that collected on his fingertips. "Bad girl." He admonished, "Always so impatient." He pulled his hand back and spanked me hard.

"Julian, I don't like it on my back." I had to stay still or mess up my sheets and he knew it.

"Are you telling me to stop or are you telling me what you want?" He reached forward and rubbed my clit through the hood, roughly enough to make me whimper. He was asking for my safe word, which we decided should be, simply, "stop."

"I'm asking nicely." I wanted badly to grind against his hand.

"You can ask nicer than that."

I swallowed my pride, "Please sir, will you clean it off?"

"Clean what?" He slapped my pussy quickly over and over, knowing I had trouble articulating myself when he played with me.

"Please . . . Sir. Will you . . . cleanyourcum off . . . my. . .my?" I gasped as the spanking grew more rapid, his fingers catching my clit as he pulled has hand away each time.

"Oh my god, you dirty little slut." His breathing changed and I could tell he was growing hard. "You're going to cum from having your cunt slapped, aren't you?" Encouraged, he began to keep a steady rhythm.

"Please!" I whined, mortified, trying desperately not to move.

"Use your words, Cadence. Tell me."

"Please don't stop!" I cried out, shocked at how my body responded. I could hear how wet I was becoming despite how degrading it all felt.

"Dirty girl." He reached forward and grabbed a handful of my hair at the nape of my neck, holding me still. "If you make a mess on these sheets, I swear I'll make you clean it up with your fucking tongue. Don't think I won't." The stinging slaps and the burst of intensity on my clit was too much. "Cum for me! Right now! Cum!"

I pushed my forearm into my mouth, biting down. I muffled a scream that came from deep within me and tried not to move, unsure if he'd make good on his promise. I lost vision as the pleasure was torn from my body. I was left catching my breath as his weight left the bed. Faint sounds of the faucet drifted to me from the next room. As he returned, I felt the warm dampness of a washcloth on my lower back.

"That was hot." He commented, tossing it into a nearby laundry basket.

I groaned, letting myself collapse on the bed. My phone rang from my nightstand. I made no move toward it.

"Well it's not for me." Julian commented, finding his jeans on the floor. I watched him get dressed, feeling satisfied and lonely at the thought of him leaving. He walked over with my phone, distracted. I didn't understand until I saw who I had missed a call from. Sara.

"Her portrait isn't finished." I explained, feeling a sudden wave of guilt. I bit my tongue, wanting to know when it needed to be finished by. There was so much I didn't know about them, still.

"Well, it's my fault she's calling. It was a crazy idea, I don't know what I was thinking." I could feel him ebbing away from me.

"I think I should get it over with. It won't take much longer." I got up off the bed, grabbing a robe hanging from a nearby chair. I felt more naked while he was fully dressed.

I followed him into the living room, the light spilling in through the windows, feeling like the distance between us yawned further as he stood in front of the large canvas, his fiancé staring back at us.

"I'm going to be off the grid for a while." He turned at the door and stooped to kiss me as a goodbye. Julian could go days unplugged from electronics to bury himself in his work. I wondered if that was his excuse to Sara when he came to see me.

When she sat before me only hours later, she was nearly bursting with excitement. She seemed so happy to see me, it was as though we had been friends for years. She sat upon a stool with such poise it made me aware that my posture was terrible. Being around her, I worried about my poker face. I felt a strange attraction to her. I felt grateful I had an excuse to stare. I studied her, glancing rapidly back and forth from her to the canvas. Her skin seemed to glow in the natural lighting. I felt my stomach twist with envy.

"You know, Cadence, I realize you probably didn't want to meet with me today, I'd be happy to compensate fairly for this time." She was flushed.

I fought to keep my composure. "Why do you say that?"

"I know you must work a lot of weekends. With you having the time off, and all. . . I'm sure you and your boyfriend had plans . . ."

"Oh." I began to re-work the gentle curl of her bob, framing her face perfectly. "No, we're not together anymore." I glanced back at her and couldn't help but feel like she might know something. "And too much time had passed. I'm glad you called." I tried my best to sound sincere.

"I'm sorry to hear that. It was his work, wasn't it? Men can get so wrapped up in their work and completely forget that other things need attention, too." She gave a sympathetic smile, and I felt a stab of remorse.

"It's a tough field." It wasn't technically lying.

"I get it. You find someone so passionate about their career, but they can get so immersed in it. That kind of drive has its drawbacks." She put up a finger to signify she was about to move and pulled her phone out to respond to a text. "It can be so hard to find a balance in a relationship with two ambitious people."

"That's true." I put down my brush and took a step back from my canvas, comparing her to her likeness.

"Is it finished?" Her eyes lit up.

"I don't know." I put a hand on my hip, unsure of what was missing.

"You need to take a step away from it, see it with fresh eyes. That always helps give me perspective." She counseled.

"You're right." I agreed. "I think we should stop for now."

"Great!" She clapped. "I'm taking you out to dinner."

"I don't know . . ." It was bad enough maintaining pleasantries with someone I was deceiving. I didn't know how I could stomach an evening alone with her.

"Nonsense." She smiled, her mind made up. "I have reservations already and I am in desperate need of a girl's night. Indulge me." Sara took out her phone and began to type. My phone chirped in confirmation. "There. I'll give you some time to get ready. It's not far from here. You'll love it."

It seemed like Sara had reservations well in advance, for when I checked the address she sent over it was an exclusive French restaurant. Did Julian cancel plans with her? It would make sense with the talk of ambitious and focused significant others putting a strain on a relationship. I prayed she wouldn't feel compelled to talk too much at length about it, but another part of me had a masochistic desire to hear more details even if it caused me physical pain to hear about them together.

She suggested a bottle of wine and asked me after if I had a preference. I knew next to nothing about wine and agreed she had made a great choice. The waiter kissed her cheek and asked about Julian. I smiled toothlessly as she introduced us. Moments later, our glasses were filled.

"Is there a lot to plan, still, with the wedding?" I casually unfurled my cloth napkin and smoothed it over my lap.

"No, actually, it's almost finished. I have always envisioned my dream wedding since I was a little girl, down to the design on the place settings. Now it's just the wait!" Her expression lit up.

"When is the big day?"

"Oh no. Don't tell me Julian forgot to give you your invitation. I gave it to him weeks ago!"

"I'm sure it slipped his mind." I waved dismissively.

"I feel terrible." She seemed genuinely put-out. "I hope you'll still be able to come- It's the 15th."

"Oh wow." It was a little over a week away. It took a moment to comprehend. I stopped myself from asking about the logistics, whether they'd buy a house together or if he'd move into her place. I couldn't see her living in my apartment building.

"I know, it is so short notice. You know, he's normally good about these sorts of things. He's been so busy . . ." Although I barely knew her, it was estranging to see her so uncomfortable.

"I'll try to see if I can get off work." I promised.

"So, I have to admit I have an ulterior motive for asking you here." Sara poured herself another glass. A long moment passed before she broke the tension. "I haven't lived here for long, and I have found it difficult to meet people. I've never had that problem before. I've buried myself in work, I hadn't put the time into trying to build friendships. I guess I haven't thought about being here as permanent. It's been . . . isolating."

I took a pull from my drink to hide my surprise. She looked like woodland creatures dressed her in the morning. I assumed she would be as magnetic to other people as I found her.

"I know the feeling." I agreed. "Outside of work, I had poured myself into my relationship with Ethan, my other relationships suffered for it. Bad investment." I acknowledged.

"So he moved out?" She filled my glass for me.

"He never moved in, actually." I smiled wanly. Jacques had always given me trouble on the topic. I could hear his carping just thinking about it. All that money on rent when you would have been common-law married by now. That man is wasted on you.

"It must have been so hard, saving yourself for someone for so long, and for it not to work out . . . "

I choked on my drink, covering my mouth with the cloth napkin. A woman in the midst of a romantic evening at the next table shot me a dirty look.

"It's okay." She insisted. "It's between us girls, and believe me. I understand."

"Not many people do." I coughed, my mind reeling.

In fact, I had decided to move out into my own place because I needed space to work, and while Ethan insisted that he didn't mind sharing his study with me, I felt somewhat stifled in my creative endeavors with him hovering. Admittedly, I had spent a lot of time at his apartment, but I always found it distracting. I needed the space, I told myself. Julian had mentioned something about living in sin. I thought it was a joke, or that she had to be living with conservative parents. But no. Sara was a virgin. From what I could tell she thought Julian was, too. I don't know why exactly it made things so much worse, but it did.

By the end of the evening, I was properly plied with wine. Sara invited me back to her apartment, which apparently was close in proximity. Despite my refusal, she called me a cab. I was filled with a dangerous momentum. Angry with myself and Julian for hurting someone that had so much trust and admiration in him. If I had to end things with Ethan, I should tell him why even if it was painful. I realized that if I wanted to look at myself again I needed to leave Julian, too. I had to act then if I was going to go through with it. I was knocking on his door at an obscene hour with the reasoning that if I didn't do it when I had the courage built up, I wouldn't be able to force myself to do it at all.

Ethan opened the door with a look of bewilderment I had rarely seen. Under normal circumstances, he was unflappable.

"God, Honey, are you okay?" he moved back into his apartment, letting me in. I felt overcome with emotion for the familiarity of his place, having helped curate the furniture and paint the walls. I felt like I was going to be sick.

"I need to sit down." I closed my eyes to stop the world from spinning.

"Are you okay?" Ethan guided me to his couch. "Hold on one second." He came back with a glass of water and, discreetly, a garbage can.

"I'm not going to throw up. I'll probably just die." I took the water and placed it down on the coffee table.

"You should drink that." He looked concerned, and even then I felt my heart breaking.

"I have something to tell you." I continued, taking the glass as he pressed it back into my hand. I took a few sips. "Ethan. I'm sorry, but I had to tell you because I can't lie to you and have you think that there's any hope for us. Because I fucked it all up and it can't go back to normal ever, ever again."

He sat there with an expectant look with only the dim light of his side table lamp to cast us in a somber, yellowish tone.

"I was with someone else when we were together. That's why I ended things." Even with the amount of courage I had built up, I could only look at my hands. "It's not your fault. You're too nice to chain me up or hurt me. There's something wrong with me."

"Okay." He sat, processing. I wanted him to be furious. To hurt me with his words for hurting him. "Are you together now?"

"Not together, no." I admitted to myself as much as to him.

"How long were you seeing him while we were dating?"

"Not long."

"Keep drinking that." He encouraged, ever the care-taker. I obeyed. He looked sad if not thoughtful as he watched me finish the glass of water. "Thank you for being honest with me."

"I'm so sorry." I hated myself for not being any more articulate than that. "You are such a good man. I am so, so sorry."

"I don't think you'll agree with me, Cadence, but I think I know self-sabotage when I see it."

"Maybe." I allowed. "I think you wanted a project to work on."

He took my hand, self-assured. "I love you, Cadence. I'm sorry that you never seemed to believe that."

"I should go."

"Come on." He guided me to the bedroom and pulled back his duvet. I climbed in feeling a strange sense of déjà vu, feeling all at once miserable and comforted. I half expected him to curl up next to me, but he sat on the edge of the bed instead, rubbing my back until I dropped like an anchor into unconsciousness.

Head pounding, I squinted into the daylight, unsure of where I was. I thought I could hear the soft clinking of dishes and running water. The night previous seeming impossibly distant. On the bedside table I found a glass of water. Grateful, I drank greedily. I was dressed in one of Ethan's old graphic tee shirts, faded and soft with age. I ventured out, unsure of where my clothes were and found them folded neatly on the couch with a note.

Please eat something before you go. Call me if you need anything.

- E

I wondered where he was. It was uncharacteristic for him to be out of his place so early in the morning. I didn't mean to chase him out. I saw that he had peaches, still, in his fruit bowl. I knew he didn't particularly care for them and the fact that he bought them made my heart ache. I sat at the table and chewed through the unripe fruit. I had to close my eyes against my head ache. I checked my purse for my phone and found I had a slew of messages from Julian. The last read: WHERE ARE YOU? CALL ME IMMEDIATELY. So much for going off the grid. I deleted it.

I carefully washed the pit of the peach and left it on top of a quick note I scratched onto a legal pad left on his kitchen table.

Thank you for loving me.

- C

I holed up in my apartment, the curtains drawn. Looking over Sara's painting. It was as finished as it was ever going to be. I just needed to sign it. My phone went off continuously with Julian's phone calls. I didn't know how to confront him about Sara so I decided not to. She had called twice, probably to make sure I made it home okay. Or something else. Unable to bring myself to listen to the messages, I allowed the messages to collect with a smattering of voicemails from Jacques. I couldn't answer those, either. He knew I needed some time off. I took a personal leave and he seemed wary in agreeing.

"You're sure? Wouldn't it be a good distraction, something to get your mind off things?" He was doing inventory while I came to ask about taking the time off.

"I have a few commissions I need to finish." was my excuse. "It's plenty to keep me occupied."

I knew the Arts show was swiftly approaching and I felt a strong sense of conflict in whether I wanted to see it. I had a reminder on my phone that it was to take place in a weeks' time. Knowing I owed it to him, I forced myself to finish Julian's painting from the night we had first slept together. I had the picture of him from that night on my phone. I didn't prefer to work that way, but in cases where I didn't think I'd be in-person with the subject I snapped a photo. I thought back to that night, how I wasn't sure I'd see him again after. It all felt so indelible.

I was applying finishing touches on the painting when my phone began ringing. Julian. I let it go to voicemail and began cleaning my brushes, stepping back from the canvas I studied the final product. I heard a brash knocking at my door and froze, knowing already.

"Cadence, I know you're home. I heard your phone go off."

I walked to the front door and slipped the chain lock on before opening it. I peered out, wordless.

"Hi. What the fuck?" He fixed me with an incredulous look. I stood, uncertain before he spoke again. "Cadence, unlock the damn door."

Once I had him inside, I felt like I had lost all leverage. I wanted him, still, strangely, and I hated him. I hated the fact that he fucked me with no intention of caring for me and I hated him for loving me, too. More than anything, I hated myself for being so weak around him.

"You went out to dinner with Sara?" He paced around.

"It was more like drinks." I corrected. "The waiter asked about you."

"This is unbelievable." For once, his composure had escaped him.

"What did she say?" I crossed my arms.

"Fucking irrelevant!"

"You're still together, aren't you?" I asked pointedly.

"Yes." He stopped his pacing.

"She's a virgin?" It was like throwing darts.

"I'm aware!"

"And she thinks you are too!"

"As I recall, my moral compass was the last thing on your mind when you are getting what you want, you spoiled little bitch! You share a bottle of wine and now you're best friends? I can't believe I even have to say this: she is off limits."

"You sent her to me. You rubbed my nose in it. You made me paint her. You made-"

"I didn't make you do anything. It was only the other night that you said you knew what this was. What changed?"

"You said you loved me!" I surprised myself with the force in which the words ripped from my throat. We stood in a tense moment.

"I'm sorry, I . . ."

"Stop. Please." I began to feel weak, my vision was as though the world was pixelated for a moment. It had happened before, If I didn't sit down I was about to pass out. I walked over to the stool and let my vision return to normal.