Obsessed Read Online Free Page B
great time, laughing about what a prude I am.
Almost ten o'clock, now. Of course there wasn't going to be a call. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it wasn't going to come tonight. I made it my excuse not to go out, but what was I really afraid of? Maybe it came from my sheltered upbringing. For the longest time, it was just me and my mom. My brother left for the military when I was still in middle school. My dad hadn't been around since long before that. I think that's what had made my mom so overprotective of me. It gave me trust issues with just about everyone.
She was constantly feeding me statistics about violent crimes and the dangers of alcohol and drugs. It had scared me then, and I guess it stuck with me still.
“Call me when you get there,” she would say, even if I was only going to the store.
“Drive slow and wear your seat belt,” she would warn.
My friends would all make fun of me for the constant babying. She even had to approve of my boyfriends. One time, in high school, she forbade me from dating a boy in my Algebra class because he had earrings. It didn't matter that he was an honor student and a member of the chess club. According to my mom, “All young men with earrings are destined to be bad seeds.”
The whole thing kind of made me wary around guys. Aside from a couple of random hookups in college, I hadn't really had any men in my life. Truth be told, I think my whole experience growing up gave me a bit of a fetish for bad boys. There just hadn't been any of them around who could help me test the theory out.
Sometimes, when I'm alone at night, I try to think what it would be like to be with an alpha-type. There are fewer and fewer of them out there, it seems. Most guys are too obsessed with their cell phones, or too worried about their own fashion to know how to take charge with a woman.
Just the idea of a rugged, no-nonsense type of man made me tingle. Someone with rough hands and a body, taut and perfectly formed by long hours spent doing manual labor; maybe a firefighter or a military man. Or, even better, someone who lives and plays by his own rules.
I ran my hand down the front of my jeans and squeezed my inner thighs. The scene playing out in my mind caused the warmth to spread and ripple outward from the center of my body. I ached for big, strong arms to carry me to the bedroom, to lay me down and undress me. I wanted to feel a muscular chest and a firm stomach against my soft body.
I slipped my pants off my hips and onto the floor. My underwear was wet and my spot was begging for attention. Visions of a faceless man danced in my head. I rubbed little circles over my clit as the unknown stranger had me do exactly what he wanted.
The ticking clock seemed even louder now, like it was trying to make an angry point. It thudded along with my beating heart as I brought myself to an unsatisfying climax. I stared up at it, wondering about my future.
***
Shit, my email! The thought hit me like a ton of bricks. The HR lady down at the office told me they might update me on their decision by email I can't believe I forgot to check it. I was so nervous after the interview it must have slipped my mind. I scrambled for the laptop, nearly knocking my coffee off the table in the process.
The blood seemed to shoot through my veins as I waited for the window to load. The worst part about anything is waiting. It doesn't matter if you're waiting for the response on a job application, looking for your test results, or anticipating any kind of important news. The feeling is always the same. It's like hollowness in your stomach that won't go away until you know. I've always envied the people who can compartmentalize things in their life and not worry. Being able to enjoy the little things, without it feeling like the weight of the world is on your shoulders must be quite nice.
After what felt like an eternity, the screen popped up. And
Almost ten o'clock, now. Of course there wasn't going to be a call. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it wasn't going to come tonight. I made it my excuse not to go out, but what was I really afraid of? Maybe it came from my sheltered upbringing. For the longest time, it was just me and my mom. My brother left for the military when I was still in middle school. My dad hadn't been around since long before that. I think that's what had made my mom so overprotective of me. It gave me trust issues with just about everyone.
She was constantly feeding me statistics about violent crimes and the dangers of alcohol and drugs. It had scared me then, and I guess it stuck with me still.
“Call me when you get there,” she would say, even if I was only going to the store.
“Drive slow and wear your seat belt,” she would warn.
My friends would all make fun of me for the constant babying. She even had to approve of my boyfriends. One time, in high school, she forbade me from dating a boy in my Algebra class because he had earrings. It didn't matter that he was an honor student and a member of the chess club. According to my mom, “All young men with earrings are destined to be bad seeds.”
The whole thing kind of made me wary around guys. Aside from a couple of random hookups in college, I hadn't really had any men in my life. Truth be told, I think my whole experience growing up gave me a bit of a fetish for bad boys. There just hadn't been any of them around who could help me test the theory out.
Sometimes, when I'm alone at night, I try to think what it would be like to be with an alpha-type. There are fewer and fewer of them out there, it seems. Most guys are too obsessed with their cell phones, or too worried about their own fashion to know how to take charge with a woman.
Just the idea of a rugged, no-nonsense type of man made me tingle. Someone with rough hands and a body, taut and perfectly formed by long hours spent doing manual labor; maybe a firefighter or a military man. Or, even better, someone who lives and plays by his own rules.
I ran my hand down the front of my jeans and squeezed my inner thighs. The scene playing out in my mind caused the warmth to spread and ripple outward from the center of my body. I ached for big, strong arms to carry me to the bedroom, to lay me down and undress me. I wanted to feel a muscular chest and a firm stomach against my soft body.
I slipped my pants off my hips and onto the floor. My underwear was wet and my spot was begging for attention. Visions of a faceless man danced in my head. I rubbed little circles over my clit as the unknown stranger had me do exactly what he wanted.
The ticking clock seemed even louder now, like it was trying to make an angry point. It thudded along with my beating heart as I brought myself to an unsatisfying climax. I stared up at it, wondering about my future.
***
Shit, my email! The thought hit me like a ton of bricks. The HR lady down at the office told me they might update me on their decision by email I can't believe I forgot to check it. I was so nervous after the interview it must have slipped my mind. I scrambled for the laptop, nearly knocking my coffee off the table in the process.
The blood seemed to shoot through my veins as I waited for the window to load. The worst part about anything is waiting. It doesn't matter if you're waiting for the response on a job application, looking for your test results, or anticipating any kind of important news. The feeling is always the same. It's like hollowness in your stomach that won't go away until you know. I've always envied the people who can compartmentalize things in their life and not worry. Being able to enjoy the little things, without it feeling like the weight of the world is on your shoulders must be quite nice.
After what felt like an eternity, the screen popped up. And
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