Obsession: An Erotic Heaven and Hell Chronicle
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Authors: Erica Ashley
Obsession
By Erica Ashley
Copyright 2011 by Erica Ashley
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Call me Eric.
I am a man who once loved a woman and lost her.
But I’ll never forget the first time I made love to her, which was the first night I met her.
It was 2008, New Year’s Eve, in Miami. And I had no idea how much my life was going to change.
The dance floor on the rooftop of the hotel. It may have been December, but it was hot. Sweaty. The bodies danced together. The bodies ready for lust. Men and women, everyone looking for the same thing.
A night of passion. No tomorrow. There would never be a tomorrow, as far as they were concerned.
But that night, there would only be one woman for me.
Her dress stuck hard to her sweaty skin. Her hips gyrated. Her eyes were closed. Her hair matted, so matted wet, soaked with sweat. Her hands behind her head, feeling the music. Her hips, back, forth, back, forth. One hand riding up her thigh. The other hand touching her face. She wasn’t the only girl dancing, but as far as I was concerned, she was the only one.
And then she saw me.
Her skirt fluttered in the light breeze.
It began to rain.
The crowd went wild and screamed. It was only an hour until the New Year. But my life had just begun.
Before I knew it, before I could ever see it coming, her body was on mine. And the New Year came as my lips met hers. I knew I would be fucking her tonight.
Little did I know how much she would fuck me.
“What is your name?” I asked.
“Nicole. What’s yours?”
“Eric.”
Our lips met and our souls became one. My hard cock was up against her pussy, she could feel how hard I was for her and I could feel how wet she was for me. I knew it. We moved together as one. We could barely hear the music. We noticed no one around us. All we could feel was each other. All I could see was her soul in her blue, ocean blue eyes. I grabbed the back of her head and kissed her even harder.
She tasted like the sweetest nectar God could ever give me.
What was so intoxicating about her? What was it about her, the way she danced, the way she moved, it was hypnotic! It was…ritualistic almost. Every guy was looking at her. But they could not have her. Only I could have her. It was like she planned this. She knew she would find me.
It was destiny.
The music pumped and thumped. Everyone was drunk. Everyone would be having sex that night, but only one couple would be fucking like there was no tomorrow. Nothing like us. As we danced, she turned around and put her ass against my cock. I had nothing to hide. She tilted her head back and I bit her neck; she moaned. Loved it. Passion. Sex. Fucking. We didn’t care. Animals would be envious.
I moved my hand down and grabbed her crotch, pulling her even closer to me. She whispered into my ear, “Take me out of here and fuck me. Now.”
I did as I was told.
We ran into the elevator. I pulled up her skirt and shoved myself inside of her. Hotel security cameras be damned.
We almost knocked down the door to my hotel room. I threw her on the bed and ripped her dress off and fucked her.
Where was I?
She wanted more.
I had to give it.
I could feel her clit expand and throb as I pounded away at her. Thrusting deep, we were still wet from the rain. I came inside of her so hard I thought my cock was going to explode. She came so hard, my dick almost got crushed to death. It was, it was…violent. It was a volcano. It was a hurricane. It was the Apocalypse.
I could not stop fucking her. I could not stop. I could not. Just when I thought I had no juices left, she reminded me that oh yes, I did. Plenty. Just when I thought I’d pass out from all the booze and all the sex, nope, I was wide awake.
We were in the shower. The warm rain soaking us down as she sucked me off. Hard. She did not give me any choice, slamming me against the wall and taking my manhood while holding my chest with her loving hands.
Where the hell did all of this come from?
Where the hell did she come from?
Who the fuck was she?
Who are you?
“Who are you?” I asked her.
“I’m Nicole! Who are you?”
“Eric, didn’t I tell you that?”
“Maybe… how could I remember? What’s on TV?”
She turned on CNN.
And back in reality, I was.
In the middle of a one-night stand with the best sex of my life.
I sighed.
It was morning. A new year. A new beginning. She was still there. I was still there. I wasn’t hung-over, but lord knows I should have been. I loved to party.
“Listen,” she said, “Don’t text me if you want to see me again.” Her dress was shockingly not ripped apart, but in one piece. I would have sworn I tore it off when I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Only pussies text, men call, and we call when we want to. But there is something you should know about me.”
“What, you’re married?”
“No, I’m not from here.”
“Where are you from?”
“New Orleans.”
“Get the hell out of here. Me too!”
“Wow. I wonder if we know the same people.”
“Maybe,” she said, handing me a napkin, “Here is my number. Use it properly.” She kissed me, and left.
The second she left, I suddenly got a huge headache. The hangover had begun.
I had always wanted to do New Year’s Eve in Miami.
No angels there, only the devil’s children who wanted to live it up like there was no tomorrow. Sin felt so good. They had just opened up this new swanky hotel called Le Chivalres, and I got a deal for the party on the rooftop overlooking South Beach, plus a nice room, and I thought, why not? I had just become single and I wanted to go fuck something.
I had no idea what I would end up finding.
Miami, town of silicone, fake personalities.
But Nicole was anything but fake. Maybe that was because she was from New Orleans.
I flew in to Miami the day before, hitting the beach during the day, and hitting on girls at night. I almost went home with one, but her friends all intervened. No angels there, there would be no angels in Miami this New Year’s, only Satan’s minions. But what fun minions!
How sin felt so good.
The morning after, New Year’s Day, as I walked through South Beach looking for a sandwich, I couldn’t stop thinking about Nicole.
I felt passion for her that I had never felt before. Passion that I knew would turn to love. I just hoped she’d feel the same way.
Turns out, she did feel the same way, as I would discover later.
But she had a secret.
Women have secrets, don’t they always? It’s their way to keep their dominion over us.
Nicole had a secret, a terrible one. I was about to find out the hard way what it was.
After consuming some greasy food from a diner, I headed to the airport and flew back home to New Orleans. I slept the entire way, and dreamt of Nicole’s hard naked body. Her tight beautiful breasts that beckoned me. Her wet pussy that was beginning to forever enslave me. I was going to fuck her again..
And then we landed in New Orleans, and I woke up.
Amazing.
I got to my condo on St. Charles Ave, and passed out on the couch. I dreamed of her again. I dreamed of her naked body grinding against mine. I dreamed of fucking her, hard. Again, and again. I couldn’t wait to fuck her again.
I called her the next day, and left her a message. I didn’t hear anything from her. I left her another message, but nothing. I finally decided, I had nothing to lose, so I wrote her a text message. I thought, I would never see her again. I got back to work, I had a deadline; my latest romance novel was due in a week to my publisher. I threw myself into my work; writing romance novels couldn’t help but show my readers what a die-hard romantic I was. And living in the city of New Orleans fed my passions, fed my work. This city seduces you, bends you over and fucks you and you’ll love every minute of it. It was a mix of Creole-underbelly nonsense Voodoo magic, spirituality out of control, food rich enough to give you a heart attack, goodness! All I did was write.
All I could do was write about her.
I was obsessed with her.
Was I?
The rain finally came, again. It always did. I sat on the couch watching the Saints game when there was a knock on my door.
It was her.
“How did you find me? What are you doing here?” I said.
Soaking wet, she said, “I need you. I need you inside of me.”
I let her into my home, and into my heart, and into my bed.
I didn’t know what was happening to me. I was a man possessed. My hand went under her panties and fingered her softly.
“No,” she said, “My turn.” She led me into my bedroom, gently put me on my own bed, and pulled out a tie from my closet and tied me to the bedpost. What is she doing, I thought, am I going to die? If I’m going to die tonight, I’ll die happy. I have her.
She was a jezebel. I was afraid, but I was turned on. She mounted me and I was inside of her before I knew it. I had never been harder. It was like no time had passed. It was like her soul, and my soul, were always going to be connected. Who was she? Where did she come from, how did she find me? I didn’t care; my cock and her pussy were in charge, her pussy, her sweet tight pussy, was leading me.
She pushed her loving vagina around my cock, in and out, back and forth, oh my God, what was happening to me? The sweat drops fell, and rose up. Fell all around us.
And I was just about to come deep inside of her when I noticed the man in the doorway.
“Get off my wife,” he said.
She jumped off and hid behind me, and I said, “Who the fuck are you, get the hell out of my house!”
“I’m gonna kill you, “ he said. He held a gun in his hand, gripping it as tight as a snare drum.
“If you want money, the sky is purple.”
Someone a lot wiser than me once told me; always confuse crazy people who are threatening you by speaking their language.
“What?” he said.
“The bedside table, goblins live forever.”
“You’re fucking my wife. I don’t want your money.”