Alexandr Obsessed Read online

  Contents

  ©

  Alexandr

  Join Alice’s Readers’ Group

  Chapter One Him

  Chapter Two Her

  Chapter Three Him

  Chapter Four Her

  Chapter Five Him

  Chapter Six Her

  Chapter Seven Her

  Chapter Eight Him

  Chapter Nine Her

  Chapter Ten Him

  Chapter Eleven Her

  Chapter Twelve Him

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen Her

  Chapter Fifteen Him

  Chapter Sixteen Her

  Chapter Seventeen Him

  Chapter Eighteen Her

  Chapter Nineteen Her

  Chapter Twenty Him

  Chapter Twenty-One Him

  Epilogue Him

  Epilogue Her

  © Alice May Ball 2019

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

  Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, or to any actual events is purely coincidental.

  All the people portrayed in this story are over the age of eighteen, and entirely imaginary. If you think that you know some of them, or that you may be one of them, then you should consider writing fiction yourself.

  Cover Design by Signs of Desire for TzR Publishing

  I know that you love reading, maybe

  as much as I love crafting and

  telling the stories,

  so let’s keep in touch

  CLICK HERE

  to join

  Alice’s Readers’ Group

  Get news. offers, swag and more!

  Chapter One

  Him

  THERE IS PAIN AND there is good pain. This will be good pain.

  As soon as I burst through the massive mahogany double doors, I know that I have found her. The St Petersburg University lecture hall doors slam against the wall. The audience is scattered around the curved auditorium. All their heads turn and their necks crane around. Everyone wants to know who dared to interrupt the defense minister’s talk. The minister looks up and stammers over his speech. I’m high up in the dark and in the farthest part of the hall from the stage. He recognizes me. His face drains pale and he falls silent.

  The heady, sweet scent of her snatches my attention, and I forget about the minister. She fills my senses. I know at once that I’ve found what I’ve waited and searched for. What I need. My perfect woman.

  I came to see the defense minister. But this is more important. I look around to find her, anxious to know how beautiful she is. I know she will be curvy with an eager light in her eyes.

  My highly attuned sense of a scent draws me. My nose brings my eyes straight to her. She is beautiful. A womanly girl. As lovely as I always knew she would be. Soft. Young. My heart pounds and my cock thickens, hardening. Her skin has a peachy, golden glow. A tumble of blonde curls frames the glisten of her big, brown eyes.

  My businesses and enterprises have made me billions, but I only care about the money to pursue my obsession. The clubs, the industries, the trading funds, and all of the employees spread across all eleven time zones of Russia, they all exist only to make the money to feed my needs.

  My destiny and my curse for the whole of my life, my hyper-tuned sense for scent has been a talent and a torture. When I walk into a bar, the distinct scents of every woman call out to me. They all want me. Whether they admit it or not, it’s a fact. If I needed to, I could easily prove it.

  It’s a kind of small torture for me because I have no desire for them. A physical reaction often occurs. Then I look at each one.

  It happened on the way here as I ran up the stairs. A beautiful girl saw me. She straightened. Swelled her chest and bounced her huge, gorgeous tits. Immediately I caught her scent. The call of her desire.

  As my nostrils detected her, her eyes widened. An inviting smile spread on her lips as she lifted her chin and pushed her chest forward. Her fingers traced the side of her neck. She drew breath. She wasted her time. I already knew the signal from her scent.

  It is painful for me. She wants me. Urgently. She’s beautiful. I don’t care. It’s not her I need. She presses back against the wall as I pass her, tilting her chin. Her fingers spread on her thigh. Raising her skirt. I know. It’s not her. She’s not the one that I’m looking for.

  I have power with men because of the other side of that talent. When I approach a man, I smell that he fears me immediately. Without having to look at a man, I know who and what he fears. His scents give him to me.

  If he is not stupid, he will detect how completely I have read him. The smart man will show me his throat. He hurries to give me what I want. I will reward him with work, with responsibility, and with riches, because I know that I can trust him. The clever one, the skillful one. The one who looks for ways to serve me.

  I will make use of him, and I will pay him well. I will care for his family. Their medical bills. Everything. As long as he is loyal.

  Too many of the others strike poses to resist me. Defiant ones who think they can beat me. I know them on sight. They cause me pain. For I know I will have to hurt them. Sooner or later. The stronger they are, the more defiant they are, the more I will have to hurt them. I hate that.

  Some I have to kill. Why don’t they just give me what I want?

  Now, this moment, everything is different. I have her scent in my nostrils. My life has changed.

  I see her. When she looks back at me, I feel her. The iron tang of blood rises on my tongue. My muscles all buzz and sing. The bench presses, squats, and deadlifts, and the running that I did this morning left my body zinging. My first sight of her makes all of my nerves and sinews crackle.

  My cock uncoils, fattens, swells and lengthens. The strain behind my pants makes a hard ache.

  Now I know what it has all been for. My life’s work has been to tune my senses. To make me ready for this moment. To prepare me. So that when the time came, I would know her.

  I will have her. Taste her. Devour her and own her.

  My blood pounds. All six feet seven of me is engaged. Every sinew in my body sings.

  I would pull apart her heavenly thighs right now. Feel the heat of her wetness. Press my body between her soft, round breasts. They swell and heave as I stare into her eyes.

  First I need her to make her understand. To feel ready. To need it the way that I do. I want her on fire so that her passion can match mine. She will. I feel it beginning already. Her scent has changed. Her body is responding to me.

  She shifts in her seat. My gaze is intense. I disturb her. Her eyes widen. Her lips part. I want to taste her mouth. Feel the quiver in her hot breath. Bruise those lips with my own. Slide my tongue between them. Press my tongue against hers. Lift her by her gorgeous ass. Wrap her around me. Fill her and fill her.

  I will give her everything she desires. All that she needs. I must have her. And I will. Waiting is hard but it will be worth it. It will be wonderful and we will make many, many babies.

  I hold up one finger. It means Wait. I look in her eyes. She understands.

  She must wait. And so must I.

  What a fine, delicious agony this will be.

  Chapter Two

  Her

  Y FIRST SIGHT of him hit me like a flash of lightning. A man of absolute power.

  I understood just enough to keep up with the ‘Welcome’ talks, though my Russian is bad, so it took a lot of effort. I chose a seat high up. Near the back of the curved room, my aim was to stay out of sight. High in the shadows.

  The rector of Saint Petersburg State University welcomed us all to his beautiful city and to the foreign students, like me, he welcomed us to Russia. Then our professor gave us a long induction talk. I didn’t think anything could be more boring. Now we have to listen to some big politician, the minister of something or other.

  I’m here for art classes in the Institute and this should be one of the most exciting days of my life. My first journey out of the USA and I’m here to develop my art with some of the most brilliant teachers in the world. Some of the best students, too, I’m hoping. I don’t want to hear this pompous politician droning on. The big man’s voice echoed and my attention faded. I grew drowsy as his voice dragged on.

  The bang from the heavy doors to my left shook me awake.

  A huge black-haired vision of a man burst in. An older man. He dominates the hall. The sight of him electrifies me.

  He has huge rings and his long, elegant hands are intricately inked. Under a beautifully cut suit, his crisp white shirt of fine cotton is open at the neck. His throat is inked, too. Above a thick beard and his high cheekbones, his luminous blue eyes swing directly to fix on me.

  My breath halts. My stomach drops down a chasm to nowhere. Thinking he must be looking at someone else, I look from side to side. The smolder in his eyes burns directly on me. A heat of my own rises, shockingly fast and hot.

  The backs of my thighs tingle and quake. I can’t tear my eyes from him to look, but I feel and hear everyone in the lecture hall turn to stare at me.

  It feels as though the whole audience makes a sharp intake of breath as he lifts a hand, palm toward me. Then he raises one finger. I read it in his eyes, too.

  It means, wait.

  A command.

  My panties are drenched. I’m trembling with fear.

  He turns and strides down the ai
sle. Everyone’s attention is on him. Like waves on the ocean, like a concert hall when a rock god strides through a crowd to the stage. The dark, electric aromas of sex rise in a steely current through the room. Every girl and woman’s thighs part.

  He leaps onto the stage. The minister himself is a huge man but he flinches back. He’s not nearly as big as my man.

  I’m shocked that I’ve thought of him that way. But I did. My man. It’s not even a thought, it’s a feeling. A powerful one that ignites heat, rising through my whole body. I’m afraid. But I’m excited, too. I never saw a man like him before.

  The minister shrinks back. Paralyzed in fear. His hand trembles.

  Four men in black suits appear out the wings onto the stage, reaching into their jackets. The minister’s face reddens in panic. “Nyet!” he shouts. No! He throws his arms out and up. His voice shudders in fear. “Stand down! I command you!” Reluctantly the men all stop.

  My man nods. He points to the floor in front of the minister.

  The minister nods. Rapidly. He staggers to his knees, shaking, his arms still outstretched.

  My man tells the secret service men to put their guns on the floor. The minister shouts to hurry them. “Be quick!”

  Looking around anxiously, the minister tells them, “Kick the guns away. Now! Immediately! Hurry! Now, go and stand at the back of the stage.”

  Scowling, they do as he tells them. From his knees, he pleads at my man. He puts his hands together. “I understand. I know. I was wrong. I’ll put it right.”

  He shrinks.

  “I promise you,” he sags to sit back on his heels. His clasped hands shake in front of his face. “I’ll have it done today. Please.” My man’s jaw moves. The minister’s speaks again. His voice is thick. “All of it. I swear. I’ll get all of it. Today.”

  He crouches, trembling. The room is silent.

  The only sound is the rap of my man’s shoes. He walks around the crouching man. Picks up the guns, one by one. Strides back to stand in front of the minister.

  He raises a gun. Pops out the magazine. It clatters to the floor between the minister’s knees. He throws the gun aside. Then he does the same with the next gun. And the next.

  With his hand open, he holds up last gun. Shows it to the secret service men. As he turns, he drops the gun in the pocket of his beautifully tailored suit.

  He leaps off the stage and bounds back up the theater, two steps at a time. He’s headed straight for me. I know it. I want him to come for me. I want him to take me. I know that’s crazy and very, very wrong. I’m terrified. Rooted in my seat.

  He’s coming closer. The massive bulge in his pants is straightening. Like it’s pointing right at me.

  My legs won’t move. My thighs have turned to lead. Sagging lead, crackling with electricity. My knees won’t obey me. The burst of energy it takes for me to jump out of my chair makes me yell.

  If I run for the nearest door he’ll catch me easily. He’s strong and very powerful. I know that he’ll be fast.

  I leap to run the other way, along the row. I don’t dare turn to see if he’s behind me.

  I know that if I see his eyes, I’ll freeze. I get through the heavy doors and drag them shut behind me. Outside, the hallway has doors along the far wall. I make for the second door. That way he’ll at least have to look in the first room before he finds me. It should give me a lead. The second door is locked. The third opens. I’m praying it won’t just lead to a closet.

  It’s a laboratory, with another door on the far side. Students in white coats and goggles swivel. Ignoring them, I go straight through, out of the other door. That leads to a flight of fire stairs. I hurry down.

  I arrived in Russia only last night. I came to the university for the first time two hours ago. Literally all I know is my uncle’s house and the metro between there and here.

  Behind me I hear a door bang open. Feet on the stairs. I try to move faster.

  At the bottom of the stairs, I shove open the fire door. I can’t even close it behind me.

  Outside is a wide road. I run, into the path of a cab. He swerves, leaning on his horn. I should have him take me back to my uncle’s house but I don’t have enough money. I dash across the street, to the nearest turn. I recognize the street coming up. It leads to the metro station.

  Stabbing pains in my sides make me desperate to stop but I keep going. I turn into Sredniy Prospekt. Pain rips in my sides. I run to the Metro Vasileostrovskaya station. Breathless, I fumble with my ticket at the barrier. I burst through and run all the way down the long escalator. I really hope that a train will be on the platform. Going either way. I don’t care.

  There is no train. Black doors in the openings along the cream marble walls of the platform are shut on both sides. I run along the platform, through the scattering of people. My sides hurt and my heart pounds.

  At the far end of the platform, a column holding the metro map is the only thing to hide behind. I squeeze behind it. I can’t resist peering around. I watch the slow escalator.

  I don’t understand how he fired such powerful feelings in me. I never felt this way about a man. I never felt much for the boys at school. Girls talked about boys setting them on fire. I had no idea what they were talking about.

  Now I know. I was on fire when his eyes found me in the lecture hall. I’m still on fire now.

  I’m terrified he’ll catch me. I know that I want him to and that makes me even more afraid. My knees are buckling.

  The sound of a train slides along one platform. My heart jumps. I look around the metro map, up at the escalator. His feet are running down the steps. Panting, I slip back behind the map.

  A train pulls in on the other platform, too. The black doors slide slowly open to reveal the silver train carriages, first on one side, then the other, a few seconds apart. Then the train doors open. I remember that red lights flash over the tops of the doors before they close again.

  I wish I had counted how many times they flash.