Obsession

OBSESSION

ALPHAHOLES #1

GEMMA WEIR

Obsession

Copyright © 2022 Gemma Weir

Published by Hudson Indie Ink

www.hudsonindieink.com

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.

Cover Designer: The Pretty Little Design Co

Obsession/Gemma Weir – 1st ed.

ISBN-13 - 978-1-913904-26-5

CONTENTS

Warning

Prologue

I. The Beginning

1. Starling

2. Sebastian

3. Starling

4. Sebastian

5. Starling

6. Sebastian

7. Starling

8. Sebastian

9. Starling

II. The Beginning of the end.

10. Starling

11. Sebastian

12. Starling

13. Sebastian

14. Starling

15. Sebastian

16. Starling

17. Sebastian

18. Starling

19. Sebastian

20. Starling

21. Sebastian

22. Starling

23. Sebastian

24. Starling

25. Sebastian

26. Starling

27. Sebastian

28. Starling

29. Sebastian

30. Starling

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by Gemma Weir

Other Authors at Hudson Indie Ink

Birds fly free, unless they’re chained in a pretty cage. Be the bird, or embrace the cage if it includes a big dick and an alphahole who knows how to use it.

WARNING

I didn’t think this book was going to need a warning, but after writing the first few chapters, it looks like it is, so here goes.

This book contains elements of bullying, and at times skirts along the lines of dark romance with some scenes that could be considered as having dubious consent.

Sebastian Lockwood is controlling, manipulative, cruel and sometimes cold to the point of being glacial. Please do not let his age fool you, he is as alpha and dominant as all the other heroes I’ve written and if alphaholes are not your jam, then please stop reading now.

All of my heroes are over-the-top, jealous, unreasonable, possessive assholes.

If you consider unapologetic alphaholes unacceptable, or feel their behavior is in some way abusive, then this isn’t the book or series for you.

If you’re a naysayer who thinks what I write is romanticizing domestic violence and abuse then please, please stop reading now, you will not enjoy this book!

This book isn’t a guide to dysfunctional relationships, it’s fiction. My books are fantasy, this isn’t real life, it’s a romance novel and should be read as such.

Just because this book is based during the high school and college years, please do not mistake this as a young adult romance—it’s not. This book is packed full of sexual scenes, dirty, filthy sex and some scenes that will make you slightly ashamed that you enjoyed them so much.

Nothing I write is based on real life, it’s pure fantasy, so it’s okay to agree that the dysfunctional relationships between my characters are incredibly sexy. Please do not kink shame me or my enthusiastic readers for finding these extreme alphahole behaviors hot, maybe if you read this book with the pinch of romantic salt it was intended to come with, you might like it too.

So if, like me, you love a guy who is so obsessively in love with his girl that he will manipulate, coerce, control and obsess over her until she gives herself to him completely, then read on and welcome to the world of the alphaholes ;)

PROLOGUE

Firm, unyielding fingers roughly force their way between my thighs and cup my pussy tightly. “This cunt is mine, it’s for my eyes, my fingers, my tongue and my cock only. I won’t share, and that includes you suggesting this could ever belong to anyone else. The only things that will be inside your wetness will belong to me. You’re mine, Starling, you always have been, so get used to it. I’ve owned you since the day I set eyes on you in high school and I’ll always own you. You might have run from me, but I always knew where you were and I always will. You’ll never be free of me.”

Shaking my head, I yank my wrists from his hold, trying to free myself, but all I can move is my head, so I shake it, denying his words in the only way I can.

His laugh is menacing and full of confident promise. Leaning down, he presses a kiss to my lips, resting his nose against my cheek as he pulls in a deep inhale. “Try and run, little bird. I’ll chase you to the ends of the earth. You don’t get to leave this house unless I take you. The entire population of the campus knows you belong to me, and your mom would love to know you’re under my care and protection. Behave and life can be good, fight me and I’ll make the me you knew in high school seem like a walk in the park.”

Tears spill from my eyes, rolling down my cheeks as I stare up at his excited eyes. He’s enjoying this.

I hate him so much. But I’ve moved on, I’ve put high school behind me. I’ve forced myself to forget him, or at least I’ve done a really good job of pretending to forget about him.

I moved halfway across the country, and only came back because he wasn’t meant to be here. But here he is, my tormentor, and the only guy my panties have ever gotten damp for. “I hate you,” I whisper through my arid throat.

“Good, I hate you too.”

PART 1

THE BEGINNING

STARLING

THREE YEARS EARLIER

“Starling.”

“Yeah.”

“Courtney’s here,” Mom yells from the bottom of the stairs.

I don’t have to see her to know she’s leaning against the stair rail, her hair still in a messy knot at the top of her head, her bathrobe open and revealing one of the massive oversize nightshirts she sleeps in.

“I’m coming,” I yell, hurrying to finish braiding my hair that’s in desperate need of a cut. It’s so long now, the braid almost hits my butt when I finish twisting the band into the bottom and let it fall over my shoulder.

“Starling,” Mom yells again. “You’re going to be late unless you get your butt downstairs right now.”

Shoving the tube of lip gloss in my hand into the pocket of my blazer, I grab my backpack from the floor and rush out of my room and downstairs. My ratty Chucks are still sitting by the door where I kicked them off after I got home from my late shift at the diner last night. I shove my feet into them while Mom waves a five-dollar bill in front of my face, her glasses balanced on the edge of her nose.

“I have money,” I tell her.

“You shouldn’t be spending your money on food, the money you earn is for you.”

“No, the money I earn is for us. I live here, I’m more than capable of contributing. You won’t take my wages toward the bills, so I can buy my own lunch.”

“Honey, I can pay our bills. I’m the adult, you’re the kid. My next book is ready to go to the editor, after that I’m going to take that gig writing instruction manuals for a while.”

“No, you’re not. You’ll hate it, and you’ll die a little more inside each time you have to explain how to insert a battery into a clock or whatever.”

“It’s regular money, a guaranteed salary each month instead of relying on my publisher to promote my back catalog.”

Shaking my head, I lean in and press a kiss against her cheek. “I’ll get a few extra shifts a week, I can help.”

Smiling a sad smile, she lifts her hand and grabs my face, squeezing my chin and squishing my cheeks the same way she’s been doing since I was a little kid. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

She slaps her lips against mine in a quick, over-the-top smoochy kiss, then drops her hand and ushers me toward the door. “Go, or Courtney is going to start honking, I can’t deal with Mr. Longstein coming over here to complain about the pitch of her horn again.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going.” Grabbing the door handle, I open it and wave absently behind me as I rush down the steps.

“Morning,” Court sings, rolling down her window and almost falling out of the car as she enthusiastically dances in her seat to the terrible bouncy pop music she loves that’s blaring from the stereo.

“Wow, how many cups of coffee have you had this morning?” I ask, sliding into the passenger seat and closing the door, shoving my backpack down between my feet.

“Only two and a couple of energy drinks.”

“Jesus, Court, that’s far too much caffeine before eight a.m.”

“It’s not even my record, the other week when you were sick I had three coffees and three Red Bulls before lunch. I swear I did all of my summer homework in less than an hour.”

“You’re going to give yourself a heart attack at sixteen, I’m cutting you off. I’m serious, one coffee before breakfast and no energy drinks until school finishes from now on.”

Courtney giggles, settling back into her seat and pulling away from the curb. “So, you’ll never guess who was at the party on Saturday night.”

“What party?”

“Jennifer Houston’s party, I told you about it.”

“Oh yeah. I think I remember you mentioning it,” I say, absentmindedly rooting through my backpack, trying to find my cell that I shoved in there before I started braiding my hair.

“So…” Court prompts.

“So what?” I ask, finally locating it at the bottom beneath a candy wrapper.

“So, guess who was there?”

“Where?”

“At the party.”

“Oh, who?” I ask, not really caring, but trying to sound like I do. Court has never understood why I’m not more interested in the kids we go to school with, and it’s too early to deal with her being pissy with me.

“Evan, Hunter, Clay and Sebastian.”

“Oh, cool,” I say, typing out a message to my boss to ask if there are any more shifts I can pick up this week.

“Are you even listening to me? The Acres Elite were all at Jennifer’s party and they stayed for almost an hour.”

“They only stayed for an hour? That seems kind of rude.”

“Jennifer’s only a sophomore like us, it’s amazing that they showed up at all,” Court gushes, animatedly talking with her hands until she has to grab the wheel as her car starts to drift across the road.

“Isn’t it a bit sleazy for a group of seniors to go to a sophomore party?”

“Well, it was Jennifer’s brother Justin’s party really, he just let Jennifer invite some friends. Justin’s a senior, but even he seemed shocked they turned up. He was trying to act all cool, getting them beers and chatting like they were besties or whatever, but everyone could see how excited he was that The Elite came to his party. Clay is gorgeous, so is Hunter, well they all are, but Evan is kind of a dick and Sebastian, well he’s just scary. Scary hot, but still… scary.”

“Having an attractive face doesn’t make you less of a douche, and all four of them are douches. They’re bullies and everyone knows bullies have small dicks. Their asshole behavior is just them trying to overcompensate for lacking in the trouser department. I bet all four of them have the worst case of little dick syndrome.”

“Muffy Hamilton said she saw Evan screwing Amanda Collins in the science lab and that his dick was huge.”

Cringing, I turn and look at Courtney. “Eww, he was having sex in the science lab? We have to sit at those tables, that’s disgusting.”

Courtney giggles. “God, Starling, you’re such a prude. Muffy said Evan had his hand over Amanda’s mouth because she was being so loud.”

“She was probably just asking if he’d even got his microdick inside her yet.” I laugh.

“Oh my god, can you even imagine if his dick was that small?” She cackles. “How gutted would you be if a boy that hot had a microwang?”

We’re still laughing as we pull into the school parking lot. There’re separate dedicated parking areas for sophomores, juniors and seniors. The sophomore spots are the farthest away, the juniors in the middle and seniors right outside the entrance doors. Courtney pulls her car into a spot and kills the engine, then turns to look at me. “First day of sophomore year.”

I can hear the excitement in her voice; she loves this. Being at school, having a million friends, going to parties. She’s been talking about what we’ll do once we’re in high school since the fourth grade when she moved into my class. Now we’re finally here, the shine doesn’t seem to be wearing off. Our freshman year, she calmed down a little bit. I guess it takes a while for everyone to find their place in the hierarchy, but once she officially settled into her role as cheerleader, she embraced it wholeheartedly. I, on the other hand, am still trying to figure out where I fit in.

The town of Green Acres where we live is split into two halves, the ‘Haves’ and the ‘Have-nots’. The ‘Haves’ live in North Acres, which is where all the houses have electric gates, their own pools, and big enough plots that you can’t see your neighbors’ houses. South Acres is where the ‘Have-nots’ live. Run-down houses sit next to abandoned lots, beside drug dealers selling from street corners.

Courtney’s family has a beautiful McMansion on a beautiful road in North Acres, her parents are lawyers and her family comes from money on both her mom and dad’s sides. I live slap bang on the border of north and south, or no-man’s-land as I like to call it. My house is small, just two beds, one and a half baths, and a yard full of flowers my mom bought at the grocery store when they were on offer. We’re not rich like Courtney’s family, but we’re not poor either.

My mom is an author. She writes thrillers and has even hit the New York Times bestseller list a few times. What people don’t realize is that even when an author sells a shit ton of books, they don’t necessarily make a shit ton of money.

Some months she makes loads, other months she earns practically nothing, which means that although we almost always manage to pay the bills, we need the money I make working at the diner to bridge the gaps between the good months and the bad.

The only reason I can afford to attend Green Acres Academy—a classy private school in North Acres—is because my mom got a big advance from her publisher to write the next three books in her current series and she paid my tuition in advance for my freshman and sophomore years. If I’ll be able to attend here for my junior and senior years is kind of up in the air at the moment.

Climbing out of the car, I smooth down my green-plaid skirt and hook the straps of my backpack over my shoulders. The kids at GAA are all rich, and even though they’re not assholes to me, they know that I’m not one of them. Thank God the diner I work at is in South Acres, because if anyone here came to the place I work and I had to wait on them, they’d never let me forget it.

I’m not ashamed of having a job, I’m happy to contribute to take some of the pressure off my mom. But to the kids that go here, their idea of a part-time job is interning at their parents’ Fortune 500 company, not serving burgers in a run-down diner in a rough part of town.

“I’m so excited for sophomore year,” Court exclaims, hooking her arm through mine and marching us toward the school entrance.

“Really? Why?”

“Duh, because we’re not the newbies anymore, select sophomores get invited to all the good parties, and we’re going to be two of those people. We’re both hot, maybe we could even get junior boyfriends and then we’d be a shoo-in to be Elite by the time we hit our senior year.”