An Obsessed Novella
Genre: Contemporary, Erotic Romance/Erotica, BDSM, M/F
Series: The Obsessed Novellas
The books in this series are all standalones
This isn’t just a love story, it’s an obsession…
I’ve loved Bree my whole life. We were each other’s firsts when we were young and inexperienced, and I totally screwed up. I disappointed her, causing her to cry and run away. But over the years, I’ve learned, I’ve perfected, and I’ve dreamt of one day getting another shot with the love of my life.
When I finally get the chance never in my wildest dreams did I think Bree was like this. The girl who used to wear yellow sundresses is no longer Bree, she’s Brianna, my new mistress. I’ll do whatever needed for her forgiveness, even go to my knees and grovel.
However, there’s just one thing... I want Bree back, not Brianna. Once I get Bree, Brianna can do to me what she will.
Maybe Noah doesn’t realize it, but he’s been mine ever since we were teens. I tried to apologize for disappointing him our first time, but never got the chance.
Now, when he approaches me at the bar, I can only think about all the things I want to do to him and with him. I plan to show him the skills I’ve honed over the years.
Little does he know what’s in store for him because I know his secrets, his desires, his needs. And I plan on giving it all to him.
However, just when I think I’m in control, he turns my world upside down.
Note: All books in the Obsessed series are stand-alone novellas. It is intended for audiences over 18 years of age since it includes explicit sexual situations, including BDSM.
I’ve loved her my whole life. At least since I can remember, which is all the way back to when she was in kindergarten and I was in first grade. I’d chase her through the backyard and around the jungle gym, trying to catch and kiss her.
If I’d succeed, she’d curl her little fingers into a fist, sock me in the gut, then run and tell her mother.
Yep, I had no game.
And, apparently, I didn’t leave an impression. Because now, at thirty, she’s still avoiding me.
Even though she can’t go very far at the moment since I’m her brother’s Best Man, and she’s the Maid of Honor.
Let me tell you, I hate weddings.
I hate them even more when I’m forced to stand across from her and can’t touch her, drag my fingers through her long, dark hair and run my lips along her delicate neck.
The only time I can touch her is when I escort her up the aisle. I’ve done it twice so far. However, she won’t meet my eyes, she feels stiff on my arm and she’s hardly said two words to me. And now I stand here while the wedding planner drones on and on about what’s expected of us during the ceremony tomorrow.
Look, Ms. Wedding Planner, it’s easy. Put one foot in front of the other, walk (without tripping) up the center aisle (can’t get lost while staying in between the rows of pews and aim for the front of the church), then stand to the side (no picking noses, asses, or adjusting your junk).
Oh, and don’t pass out. Otherwise, the video will go viral across cyberspace.
One more thing… the rings. Can’t forget to put the rings in my tux pocket.
It isn’t as if I’m not happy for my buddy, getting married to a great woman (although, not quite as stunning as his sister) who makes him happy, but I’m not thrilled with being a part of it. But I have his back. And I’d love to have his sister on her back.
Again. But in better circumstances.
We lost our virginity together at seventeen in her parents’ pool shed. I was in love with her then, too. Her with me? Not so much.
And in those forty-five seconds of bliss, I fell in love with her even more. I don’t think she thought it was even close to bliss, though. In fact, she had run out of the shed crying while pulling down her sweet yellow sundress.
I was devastated, and that was a major blow to my seventeen-year-old ego.
I’ll admit it, I had a lot to learn.
However, I had to learn it elsewhere since she was no longer game. In fact, she avoided me (just like at this rehearsal).
But I did learn. I was determined to improve, to not make her cry next time. But, unfortunately, there never was a next time.
Eventually, Mrs. Callahan down the street was kind enough to take me under her wing. Teach me the ins and outs of women. Of pleasure. Of discovering what I wanted and what I wanted to give in return.
She made me call her that, too. And I did (when I wasn’t calling her Mistress).
I dreamt of one day getting another shot with the love of my life.
Now here we stand, across from each other. My eyes on her. Her eyes on everything but me.
I want her.
I need her.
Even after all these years.
As I stand across from her, I’m mesmerized by her unforgettable, stunning beauty.
I love her.
But I can’t have her.
And that fucking blows.