Obsession (18+)

Chapter 23

If there was one thing that Jesse De Rose knew for sure, it was that once we got back to the suite from dinner I was still blinded by jealousy, anger, and rage.

Even if I had given her the luxury of pleasure, I was still mad at the way she had carelessly flirted with the waiter.

Which was why when everyone retreated into their spaces, I followed her to her room, her heels clacking against the hard wood floor, and then I dug my fingers into the material of her dress that clung to her hips and threw her petite body onto the large awaiting bed.

I was fuming.

I had managed to control my emotions whilst we were at the restaurant, but now that we had actually got back and everyone else was getting ready for bed–taking showers, changing out of their formal clothes–my anger started to emerge and I had never felt anything like it.

Not even when she was with Justin had I felt such emotion.

She yelped in surprise, and a cute little pout formed on her plump, delicious lips."Ow," she whined quite over dramatically.

I scoffed, my large fingers gripped the bottom of her tight black dress as I stood above her body. I liked the way I had to look down at her and she had to look up at me. It gave me a sense of empowerment and dominance.

I was no longer warm, sweet, and gentle. She would see the true parts of me that had always been hidden as the alcohol kicked into my system and jealously blinded me, and for the first time in all thirty-five years of my life I was scared.

But I couldn't control anything. My mind screamed at me while my actions proceeded on pure instinct. This wasn't me. I wanted to be warm, sweet, and gentle with her.

Yet, I couldn't find the way to do it without being possessed by something that thrived off of control, dominance, and possession.

The part of me that wanted to kill, perhaps, everyone in the way that would be a problem for me to get to her and the part of me that would go to dangerous extents.

I would throw away everything for her. My money, my freedom, my life.

And if it came down to it, maybe I would choose her over my own daughter.

The only one who had truly been my pride and joy through tough times and was there for me through it all. The little baby girl who cooed up at me wrapped in the fuzzy blanket that I would hold to my chest when I was overwhelmed, it pained me to know that I would give her up for Jesse De Rose.

Maybe if I had to pick between the two I would possibly kill myself than have to pick.

My face morphed into a stern expression. A deadly, cold and haunted expression. "Stop fucking whining. I don't have time to be gentle with you right now. Not after that fucking stunt you pulled at the restaurant. You thought you would get away with that, didn't you?"

Her pout seemed to deepen and she leaned upwards so that she was on her elbows whilst I remained hovering over her, "I already told you, I wasn't doing anything. Stop being so overprotective, Mr. Marcelo."

She mumbled under her breath with a roll of her eyes, "You really do sound like my father."

"Don't you roll your fucking eyes at me." I gripped her delicate chin in my hands, forcing her face to mine, "How dare you disobey and disrespect me tonight after everything that I do for you."

My lips mustered up into a sadistic smile, "And here you are absolutely fucking withering underneath me as you await your punishment."

Jesse's fingers gripped onto my forearms that were exposed now that the sleeves of shirt were pushed up. She squirmed and I felt her toes lightly prod at my upper thigh from her position laying on the bed. "Punishment?" She squeaked out.