Obsession

Jasmine

I’m not exactly running when he gets to me, but walking fast nonetheless, making it absolutely clear the last thing I want is to hang around.

That was totally insane, and I’m not sure what to think. My hands are trembling and my brain is moving faster than my feet but still unable to process it.

“Are you ok?” he asks.

“That wasn’t necessary”, I say. “And nor is this. I’m going home.”

“Just hold on one sec”, he says.

I don’t. I’m scared, perhaps even more now than I was before this mysterious man arrived. I don’t want to think what would have happened if he hadn’t, but, fuck, that was a terrifying display of raw power.

“You shouldn’t be out walking alone”, he calls after me, finally letting me leave.

I don’t look back to him, I don’t hold on, and I try not to think again about what’s just happened.

When I finally get back home, alone and safe, I realize just how wet my pussy is. It’s insane and I’m totally confused, but when my breathing and heart rate finally get back to normal, I can’t help but touch myself thinking about him.

I come in record time, my orgasm so powerful my knees go weak.

Two.

Jasmine

It’s a month before I see him again, but he’s never far from my thoughts during that time. I imagine him a hundred different ways, and each time I see that smoldering look in his eyes just before I come, and can’t help but get turned on by the memory of that determination he showed to protect me at all cost, the way he systematically took apart three men with such little effort his pulse rate hardly increased.

It turns me on way more than I’m comfortable admitting, so much, I’m embarrassed to talk about it.

I know nothing about him and he’s with me more than anyone else I know. When I finally build up the courage to walk home again at night, I hope that every night I do so, he’s there watching me, ready for the right moment to approach. If he is, he never does so.

I begin to regret not allowing him to accompany me home, even if the situation didn’t allow for it, and even if repeated a thousand times, I know I’d do the same.

I couldn’t and it wasn’t right, and because of that I know I’ve risked never seeing him again.

So much time passes that I wonder if I’ve changed his appearance in my mind, that if I see him again I’ll even recognize him, or whether the thing itself happened at all, or was maybe an entire creation of my imagination - the kind of thing a tired brain makes up to entertain itself during a journey back home, until one night, when I’ve had another shitty evening at the restaurant, and I’m ready to forget all about him and try and move on, when I least expect it, I see him again.

It’s such a shock I nearly drop a tray of empty glasses. I’m so surprised I don’t know what to say. The look on his face tells me he’s here because he knows that I work here, and even though I’ve imagined this situation a number of times, I still find myself stuck for what to say.

Eventually, because I know I can’t do anything else even if I wanted to, even though I have no idea what to say, I go over.

Same smoldering eyes, even more intense. Same perfect physical form, even more real. He’s gorgeous. Absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous. Even with the remnants of a healing black eye.

I didn’t think I’d ever see him again after that night and now here his is again, sat in my restaurant. This man has made me come more times than my left hand and he doesn’t even know it yet.

How the fuck am I supposed to begin?

Liam

I couldn’t resist coming back. I already knew where she worked because of the uniform she was wearing, it’s just taken me this long to pluck up the courage to come and find her. Courage in front of danger has never scared me, but asking out a girl I like, especially in the situation we met is fucking terrifying.

I didn’t want her to feel like I was overstepping the mark, so I thought I’d wait until the memory of that night had cooled off, and I was back in the area. I have no idea how this is going to go. People like me scare women sometimes, and the stuff that I do isn’t exactly PG, so, although I’m a good looking guy, I can be a super tough sell.

“Hi”, I say when she comes over.

“Hi”, she says with a smile, giving everything away in a second.

I know how to read people. It makes me good at what I do. People telegraph stuff all the time even though they don’t realize it. The night we met she was scared and intimidated, but right now she’s open and relaxed. I know she’s been thinking about me without evening needing to ask her. That much is clear. I know she’s happy to see me again too. I’ve been thinking about her as well. Despite all the other shit that’s been going on at the moment, this girl has been enough to keep me focused. Waiting a month has been hard, but I knew this was important enough not to rush. Winning is all about making the right moves at the right moment, and right now is the right time to make my move here.

“Busy night?” I ask, the question not important so much as the asking of it.

“Same as usual”, she says casually.

“I was in the area, thought I’d come and say hello. I hope you don’t mind?”

“No”, she says. “I was-. I’ve been thinking about you. I never said thank you for what you did.”

“That’s ok. I’m sorry it had to go down like that.”

“You saved my ass”, she says. “I-. Honestly, I’m glad you’re here. What do you want to drink, my shout? It’s the least I can do.”

She’s even better looking than I remember her, far too good to drag into my world. One night will never be enough, but one night is better than zero and it’s impossible to resist any longer.

I’m not the kind of guy a girl like this needs to get messed up with long-term, but I’m here because I know that short term I can’t hold myself back. I’ve ruined countless relationships because of what my chosen profession is, and it’s made one thing perfectly clear. No matter how much you like the girl, nothing good comes from exposing her to that. I saw her reaction the night we met, if she was ever to come to one of my fights, she’d see a side of me that would make her want to be as far away from me as physically possible.

She’s far too sweet a girl for me to do that too, and even though I know already she’s been thinking about fucking me, I need to take responsibility for her emotional well-being. Don’t get too attached. Fuck, but don’t fuck people up. I do enough of that in the makeshift rings in the basement levels of abandoned buildings.

I get attached easily too, so I have to be careful with something so addictive.

“I have a suggestion”, I say. “If you aren’t interested, that’s cool, but I’ve got to ask.”

“Go on”, she says, alre

ady intrigued, already on the hook and waiting for me to yank it away from her.

Just a fuck, nothing else.

“I like you”, I say.

“You don’t know anything about me”, she says.

“I know you don’t like working here. I know you’re intelligent, creative and undervalued. I know you’ve been thinking about me since that night too.”

“Okay”, she says, going a little red.

“I’m going to be direct, and I hope I don’t overstep the mark in doing so. I think you appreciate direct men, so I’m going to go out on a limb here. Let me take you home when you’ve finished here and we can do all the things you’ve been dreaming about. If I’ve completely misread the situation, and you aren’t interested in me or that proposition, I apologize profusely, and I’ll leave immediately.”

She looks away for a second, a tell as clear as the light of the day she’s been caught and can’t quite believe it.

“You know how many people come in here and ask me if they can take me home?”

“I think it probably happens on a daily basis”, I say.

“So what makes you different?”

“You want to come with me”, I say.

She bites her lip seductively. “I finish at one”, she says. “You’ll have to wait for me outside.”

“I can do that.”

She shakes her head, still smiling. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“I think I already have”, she says.

Jasmine

I’m not the kind of girl that does these things, especially not with a complete stranger, and the kind of person that has the capacity to send three huge people to the infirmary. I should feel more vulnerable because of that, but I don’t. When we walk back to my house I feel protected, and when we get inside, our hands all over each other, I feel like I’ve never wanted anything else so urgently in my life.

Liam has cuts and bruises all over his body between tattoos that fill in the patches of skin swollen by muscle. I want to know why, but I don’t feel like it’s the right question to ask right now.