Hidden Obsession (The Club #2) (5 page)

Who says you aren’t?

I’m an attractive woman with desires like everyone else. Maybe it would do me good to break out of my mold a little. And if it worked and we caught this psycho, then my whole life would change. The thought of doing normal, everyday things without having to look over my shoulder feels so foreign to me.

“Okay. Let’s do it. Tonight.” I blurt the words out before I can change my mind.

He grins at me, the look he’s giving me enough to make me blush. “I can’t promise you this is going to work, but I can promise you one thing.”

“What?” I ask, almost afraid to ask.

“That I’m going to blow your mind.”

Chapter Ten

I’ve never been so nervous in my life.

A few of my colleagues look surprised to see me—not that I blame them. It’s my day off and I’ve never shown any interest in checking out what goes on here until now.

I glance at Conrad and smile. He grins back and takes my hand in his, giving it a squeeze.

“You look terrified,” he chuckles. “You need to relax. Try and enjoy yourself, okay?”

Easier said than done
.

“So where, uh, are we doing this?” I ask nervously.

“Any requests?” he smirks. “You look like a girl who’d enjoy a good spanking.”

I do my best to glower at him, but his comment has me feeling a rush of excitement. I’m really here to do this. And the farthest thing from my mind is catching my stalker.

“I’m happy to follow your lead. You are the one with experience, after all,” I retort.

“Okay. Let’s start over there by the bar and go from there. If we’re all over each other and then disappear into the voyeurism room he’ll get the idea. We don’t even need to do anything if you’re not comfortable with it. Just tell me to stop and we will, okay?”

I nod, letting him lead me toward the bar. I have every intention of following through once we’re in that room. Conrad orders us a couple of drinks. I finish mine quickly and order another, thankful that I don’t recognize the chick behind the bar. I’m nervous enough as it is without being reminded that I work here.

After my third drink, I feel ready to start. Conrad is all over me, kissing my neck and groping me. People are watching, but not in a creepy way. If anything, their attention is turning me on.

“Shall we go inside?” He nods down the hall, where the voyeurism room is situated. My heart pounds as I nod my head and stand up. He takes my hand in his as we walk down the carpeted hallway.

Two months working here and I’d only stepped foot in the voyeurism room once. It’s a stunning area, complete with plush beds and sofas and a stage in the center of the room. Lights shine down on the stage, spotlighting an older couple who stand there, naked and making out.

There are about twenty people in the room, more men than women, and all ages. I find myself studying each of them closely, looking for any hint that they’re my stalker, but I get nothing. I don’t know whether this makes me feel relief or anxiety. Maybe both.

“Come over here.” Conrad leads me over to one of the beds on the far side of the room. Out of all the spots we could sit, this would be the most private—as private as a large glass room can be. “I’m going to start by lowering your dress.”

I shiver as his fingers release the zipper on the back of my tight purple dress. I’m not wearing a bra, so when the dress gives way my breasts are completely on display.

“Stand up for me,” he whispers.

I obey, positioning myself in front of him.

“Close your eyes and pretend it’s just us.”

I close my eyes and listen to the sound of his voice and my beating heart.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

My body trembles as he lowers my dress over my hips and past my thighs. I feel the material pool at my feet. I’m naked, except for the tiniest white lace thong that is covering my pussy. His fingers trail up my thigh and I gasp.

God, why am I so wet?

‘You smell so good,” he whispers.

I jump as he pushes aside my thong, his fingers running along my entrance. I can’t describe how amazing his touch feels, and I’ve all but forgotten we have an audience. He takes my hand and tugs me forward, onto his fingers. I gasp as they thrust inside of me.

“Everyone is watching us, admiring your body,” he murmurs while exploring my pussy. “They wish they were doing what I am.”

I shiver at his words. The thought of strangers wanting me like that is incredible and terrifying. Is he here? Is he watching, wishing this were him doing these things to me? Why does that excite me? Confused, I block out thoughts of him and focus on the only man I care about right now: the one in front of me.

“Lie down on the bed,” he instructs.

I step forward and position myself on the edge of the bed. I’m facing the other way now, which gives me the perfect view of everyone.

“Flat on the bed. With your knees bent.”

My stomach flips as I realize what he’s about to do. I’m shaking as I lie back on the mattress, my legs bent. I exhale as he nudges my legs apart, his fingers circling the soft skin at the tops of my thighs. I groan as his mouth hits my bare pussy, his warm breath making me jump. He runs his tongue over my opening slowly, as if to make sure I feel every tiny movement. I clutch at the sheets beside me and groan. He thrusts his tongue inside my wetness, causing me to jump again. My hands grip the back of his head as he pushes in and out of me.

“Oh God,” I mumble, my words barely coherent. He is completely in control and I love it. “Faster.”

He obliges, his speed increasing. My back arches as I try and lift my hips into his face. I’m on the verge of exploding. I gasp, a scream escaping my mouth as I climax against the feel of his tongue licking my pussy. My body convulses as the orgasm rips through me. Grabbing him by the hair, I push him away, unable to take any more.

He chuckles and lies down beside me. “How was that?” he asks, kissing my neck.

I can smell myself on him and it’s intoxicating.

“Incredible,” I mumble, my voice thick. “I almost forgot why we were here. And that we had an audience.”

“A very satisfied audience,” he adds with a grin.

I blush and he laughs, kissing my lips.

“We can stay here until you’re ready to leave. I don’t think he’s here.”

“What makes you say that?” My body tenses.

“Just a feeling.” He shrugs.

We lie there entangled in each other’s arms. I’m exhausted, and on the verge of falling asleep. I struggle to sit up and reach for my dress, ignoring the glances I’m getting from the other members.
God, I hope nobody recognizes me.

“Let’s go home,” I say, forcing a smile as I slip my dress over my shoulders.

Conrad stands up and helps zip me up. He eyes me, a concerned look on his face. “Are you okay?”

I nod. “Just a little overwhelmed.”

All the way home I’m feeling so confused. What we just did was so far out of my comfort zone and it scares me how much I enjoyed it. So many things are running through my mind right now that I don’t know what to think. I glance at Conrad, who smiles at me and reaches for my hand. I shiver at his touch and realize one thing is for certain.

I need to figure out what I want.

Chapter Eleven

Our wild night at the club didn’t stir up my stalker. If anything, it did the opposite, and once again he was back in the shadows. I found myself so distracted by Conrad there were times I actually forgot I had a stalker—something I hadn’t been able to do in years.

I’m still trying to work out what my feelings are. It’s more than sexual, that much I know. The thought of him gives me butterflies. I have no idea where our relationship is going, either. Is this just a fling for him, or something more? God, I hope it’s something more.

“Where’s your head at?” he asks, coming up behind me.

I’m staring out the window of his apartment, which overlooks the city. I smile as his arms tighten around my waist, his lips gently touching my neck. This isn’t love yet, but I feel like I’m heading in that direction. I can actually see a future with this guy.

“Just thinking.” I smile. I turn slightly so my lips connect with his.

He grins and runs his hand under my hair, gently gripping the back of my head as he kisses me again.

“You know what they say,” he murmurs, guiding me backward toward the sofa.

I giggle as my feet shuffle in sync with his as I clutch onto his shirt to avoid falling over.

“Why think when you can act?”

He falls onto the soft cushions, pulling me down on top of him. I laugh, placing a knee on either side of him. I can feel he’s hard and that excites me. Shivers race through my body as I press myself against him.

Just then, his phone beeps. Groaning, he lifts me off his lap and stands up. His brow creases as he checks his message.

“Shit, I have to go.”

“A case?” I guess, trying to hide my disappointment.

“Yeah, sorry,” he winces. “I shouldn’t be too long though. Call me if you need me, okay?”

After Conrad leaves, I wander around his place, my arms crossed over my chest, checking out his things. I hate to think what I’m doing is snooping, but let’s face it—that’s exactly what it is. I’m curious to learn more about him, and what better way to do that than through his things?

The first thing that strikes me is the lack of photos from his childhood. I count one of him with his parents in a nice wooden frame in the living room, but that’s it. It’s not that strange, I suppose, but for someone like me who was always close to her family, it feels odd. Shaking off my questions, I move onto his bedroom. Everything is perfectly placed, from the smooth, crease-free duvet to the neatly folded stack of clothes sitting on his dresser. He’s so damn neat. I wander over to the table sitting under the window and pick up a book. It’s a novel by Alex Maestro, bookmarked about halfway through. I set it back down, careful to place it in exactly the same position in case he notices.

I leave his room, leaving the door a crack open as it was, and make my way back down to the living room. I pass another door and, curious, I stop and turn the handle, gently pushing it open. My heart thumps loudly in my chest as I fumble for the light switch. My anxiety levels are so high that I feel like I’m in the middle of a horror movie and about to get slashed. I tell myself I’m being stupid and push my anxieties aside. Light fills the room. I spy the ironing board and the spare single bed that lines the far wall and laugh, no idea what I’d been expecting to be in here. I’m about to close the door when something catches my eye. I step closer, sure I must be imagining things. Lying on the floor next to the full-length mirrored closet is a photo. Of me. A photo of me that was taken outside my old apartment back in Orange County.

He’s a cop. He probably has my whole file somewhere around here. Having my photo in his spare room doesn’t mean anything.
I’m sure there is a logical explanation.

I stand up, the photo still in my hand, and stare at the closet in front of me. It’s ajar just enough for me to see there is something in there. My hands shaking, I gently push the door along the run. My eyes widen as I take in the contents. Stacks and stacks of folders and photos lie on the two middle shelves. I grab a handful and flick through them, my heart sinking. All me. Every fucking last picture is of me. There are photos of me inside my apartment—both here and back in Orange County—pictures of me leaving work, the gym, the bank, everywhere.

There are way too many photos for these to be part of my file. I push them back inside the closet and shut the door, the mirror rattling as it slams closed. There’s only one explanation, and it’s the worst one I can possibly think of.

I back out of the room and race down to the kitchen. Grabbing my phone off the charger, I dial the police station.

“Hello?” a friendly woman answers.

“Hi, uh, I was hoping to talk to a detective you have working there, Conrad Livingstone?” My voice trembles as I force the words out. I close my eyes and brace myself, ready to hear the words I know are coming next.

“I’m sorry, miss, are you sure you have the right precinct? We don’t have anyone here by that name.”

“Sorry,” I mumble. “My mistake.”

I drop the phone and fall to my knees. This has to be a bad dream, but I know it’s not. As much as I want to wake up and find none of this is real, I need to face up to the reality: Conrad is my stalker.

My hand flies to my mouth. I feel sick and so violated. I’m struggling to my feet to rush to the bathroom when I hear the telltale click of the front door.
Oh fuck.
What the hell am I going to do now? One look at me and he’ll know I know. God knows what he’ll do to me.

Panicking, I run to the bathroom and close the door, pressing my weight against the back of it. I listen as his footsteps get closer, ignoring his calls for where I am. I close my eyes and focus on breathing.

“Raven, let me in.”

I close my eyes as he pounds on the door, his voice becoming more urgent. I clap my hand over my mouth, trying not to scream. Why didn’t I bring my phone?

“Rave, I’m going to have to break the door down if you won’t let me in.” His voice has softened. He almost sounds like he feels sorry for me.

Sliding down the door, I sit on the floor, clutching my stomach. I have no idea how to get myself out of this mess, but what upsets me more is how angry I am that he lied to me.

“I know you know. I need a chance to explain.”

Explain? As if there is anything he could say to fix this.

“If you want a chance to explain, I need you to give me some space, Conrad. I can’t handle hearing whatever it is you have to say to me right now.”

He sighs, the sound of his fists connecting with the door making me jump.

I spy the open window on the far side of the room and carefully get to my feet. All I know is I can’t face him right now. With every step I hold my breath until I reach the window. I breathe out as I frantically climb through the small space while listening to him talking to me through the door.

I storm down the fire escape, not sure about where to go from here. I need to think. Running around to the main road, I hail a cab and ask the driver to take me to work. I can’t go home and I have nowhere else.

At least this way if he comes after me I won’t be alone.