Obsession

Obsession
Kayla Perrin

After her husband confesses to a racy but ultimately unfulfilling affair, Sophie Gibson's rage leaves her raw, unable to process his attempt to repair the damage by suggesting she have her own tryst. Soon, though, the idea of sex as retaliation begins to intrigue her—a no-strings-attached, sexually subversive liaison may be just what she needs before she can forgive Andrew. Hooking up with Peter, a dark and dangerous artist willing to push the limits of Sophie's lustful, quivering need, fits the bill perfectly.Sophie's covetousness for Peter was always about experiencing intensity in the moment, but soon the affair runs its course and now it's time for her to focus on her future…with Andrew. Except, Peter is convinced he can't live without her.Then come the cards, the presents, the calls…the hint of a threat. One way or another he will have Sophie. Even if that means exacting revenge of his own.

Selected Praise for

Kayla Perrin

Erotic Fiction

Getting Even

“This story of exquisitely plotted revenge will have every woman who has ever been ‘done wrong’ quietly cheering.… This is sexy erotica.”

—Library Journal

“Getting Even is one wild ride!…Perrin is an author who belongs on your must read list. Don’t miss Getting Even!” —Romance Reader at Heart

“[A] writer that everyone should read.”

—Eric Jerome Dickey

Getting Some

“A very highly erotic, captivating tale…the sex scenes are plenty and burn-your-fingers-off-the-page hot & steamy.”

—RAWSISTAZ Reviewers

“[This] solid, enjoyable novel…takes the reader down

an intriguing emotional path, from sorrow to ecstasy and

back again—it was well worth it.”

—Romance Reader at Heart

“Ms. Perrin goes all out with this story as she enters a world of eroticism… definitely a roller-coaster ride that had me hooked

from the beginning…definitely worth reading.”

—Romance in Color

Obsession

Kayla Perrin

This book is for my editor,

Susan Swinwood.

Thanks for your faith in my

stories and all your support!

prologue

The tip of the feather inched its way along my bottom lip. Such a light, wispy touch, but it sent a jolt of heat through my body, causing me to part my lips and emit a shuddery moan.

Another stroke. This time across my upper lip. My naked body quivered.

Quivered with anticipation of the pleasure that was to come.

The feather traveled lower, over my chin, then crossed the expanse of my neck from left to right. Right to left. All with agonizing slowness.

Then it stopped. Abruptly. Five seconds went by. I held my breath, waiting for what would come next. The blindfold over my eyes prevented me from seeing, but also heightened my sense of excitement. I could hear every sound in the room, smell everything. Mostly, I heard only my own raspy breaths and the whirring of the ceiling fan above the bed. But I could smell the desire in the room, clinging to drops of warm moisture in the air. I could smell the sweat dampening his skin. The scent was musky and heady.

And arousing.

When the feather caressed my left nipple, my body jerked, making my wrists and ankles pull against the ties that bound me to the bed.

“Do you like that?” he asked.

“Yes,” I responded, surprised to find my voice faint. “Yes,” I repeated, louder this time.

Once again, nothing. My hips writhed. I groaned softly. I was eager for his touch now. Desperate for it.

“Patience, bella,” he murmured.

“Easy for you to say,” I told him. “You have total control over my body right now.” Total control over my pleasure.

“Have I disappointed you before?” he asked.

“No,” I answered honestly. “Never.”

“And I will not disappoint now.”

The feather touched down between my rib cage, then traveled south, where it dipped into my belly button. It continued its lazy journey into my strip of pubic hair, then stopped—just when I wanted it most.

I whimpered. “Please, don’t make me beg.”

He didn’t say a word. Several seconds passed and nothing. I strained to hear past the woo-woo sounds the ceiling fan was making.

Soft footfalls on the carpet, then the creaking of the bedroom door.

What? Was he leaving me here?

I counted ten more seconds, and when he didn’t return, I began to struggle against the ties that bound me. The headboard rattled as I pulled and yanked. Futilely. The knots were too tight, preventing my escape.

And then I heard the sound of footsteps again. He was coming back into the room. I exhaled audibly.