Derick's POV
Morning light filters through the curtains, but I haven't caught a single moment of sleep. Last night's replays in my mind. I saw everything—her squirming in the passenger seat while I drove. Her thick vanilla essence pulled me in like an addiction, making me crave another breath of her each time. The streetlights cast a soft glow over her tanned skin, her lips parted just enough, it was wet and inviting, as if begging to wrap around my throbbing length, that sharp tongue teasing the tip of my cock.
My restraint cracked. I fought the urge to swerve to the side of the road, slam the brakes, and bury myself deep inside her right there. My fingers dug into the steering wheel, knuckles blanching under the strain. She unraveled me completely, driving me insane.
My dark gaze dropped to her thighs as she squeezed them tight, rubbing them together in a frantic rhythm. Her skin flushed hot pink, her breath coming in desperate pants that begged me to pin her down, spread her wide, and fuck her senseless like the dripping slut she ached to be. The heat radiating from her seeped into my skin, stirring my cock to life. It twitched and swelled against my pants, straining for release, eager to be inside her soaked, tight pussy. Even under the leather jacket, I could see her hard nipples pressing through the fabric, begging for my teeth to graze them, my fingers to twist until she bucked and whined.
When I told her we had arrived, she let out a low, shuddering moan, her body quivering as if I had already wrecked her, cum dripping down her thighs. Fuck. I should've done it. Bent her over the dash, yanked her panties aside, and rammed into her, feeling her walls pulse and clench around every thrust until she soaked the seats and screamed my name.
My erection ached now, pressing painfully as I reached down to shift it in my boxers before rising from the bed.
I left for her room. I walked to check if she was still sleeping. The sight of the door hanging open sent a jolt of ice through my veins. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped animal. My lungs felt tight, the air in the hallway suddenly too thin to breathe. Where is she? I fucking told her to lock her door and never open it. This woman will be the death of me, damn it.
I walked into the room, pacing back and forth. Then I saw a paper on the dresser. You don't need to look for me. I already left, and I'm okay.
I snatched the paper off the dresser, my fingers trembling so hard the edges crinkled. As the words sank in, a red haze blurred my vision. What the fuck is wrong with her? She left without thinking of the danger she might be in. I slammed the drawer behind the dresser.
I jammed my thumb against the screen, over and over, not even caring if I cracked the damn thing. Every time that robotic voicemail voice started up, it felt like a slap in the face. I didn't even wait for the beep anymore, I disconnected and hit redial immediately. My jaw was clamped so tight it throbbed, and my pulse was ringing in my ears louder than the phone ever could. Pick up, Helen. Just fucking pick up."
Does she think she can do whatever she wants? I went straight into my car, I slammed my foot onto the gas, the engine whining as I forced the car to move faster than it should. I didn't give a damn about the red lights or the people honking as I cut them off, they were just blurs out of the corner of my eye. The only thing I could see was Helen. My head was spinning with the worst-case scenarios: someone grabbing her, her lying hurt somewhere.
My hands were slick with sweat against the leather wheel, and I watched the needle climb higher, praying the car would go even faster.
I kicked the door of her apartment open, my shoulder slamming into the frame as I lunged inside. The apartment was too quiet, I took the stairs two at a time, my boots heavy and loud on the wood, praying I'd see her. But when I reached her room, it was just... gone.
No clothes scattered on the chair, no mess on the floor. I grabbed a pillow and pressed it to my face, but there was nothing, no scent of her at all. I threw it aside and ripped the bathroom door open, desperate to see a toothbrush or even a stray hair tie, but the counters were wiped empty.
A shout tore from my chest as my anger rose. I punched the glass beside me in the bathroom, not caring about the pain as my hand split open. Blood dripped onto the white tiles. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my blood staining the sink.
"Helen, how could you do this to me?" I never knew a day would come when a woman would make me go crazy.
I ran a hand through my hair. She is making me lose it, and I would find her. When I do, I am never letting her go.
As I was about to walk out of her room, I saw a card on the table. CEO, Vance Global Group.
I was confused, but I kept the card. Anything that could help me find her.
The heat in my chest suddenly bottomed out, replaced by a cold, hollow ache that made my stomach churn. I didn't want to lose her like I lost my parents and my sister at the hands of unknown men. I remembered that night, I saw them, the blood on my mother's hands. My sister's eyes opened, lying lifeless and I saw the knife sticking out of my father's neck.
I left her apartment with my wounded hand, blood seeping onto the floor. I got into my car as the engine roared to life. I looked at the card beside me. It might be the key to tracing her whereabouts.
Because if anything happens to her, I don't think I could handle it. I wouldn't want to live anymore. She is part of me now. My obsession with her keeps growing.
She is mine, and she must know she doesn't get to decide on her own.
She can hate men all she wants but will bend to my rules, whether she likes it or not.