Pure Obsession (Finn) - Chapter Three - Sex Stories

Pure Obsession (Finn) - Chapter Three

... straight ahead, all you could see were cheap local authority houses and a big, ugly comprehensive school in the distance. I preferred not to look at it. I added boiling water to the pan and stirred, looking at Alessandra instead. She looked a little tired but apart from that, she was flawless. I loved the way her dark hair contrasted with her skin, the way she sat with her dress riding halfway up her thighs. She caught me looking and tugged it down with a self-conscious smile. “What?” she asked. “I enjoyed… last night.” I said unashamedly, feeling like I needed some response. Her eyes met mine. “I feel like I should regret it. But I don’t.” She shrugged and shifted, tugging her dress down again. “I should feel guilty, shouldn’t I?” “Maybe it needs time to sink in.” “Maybe.” I handed her a bowl and served from the pan. “It’s hot.” “Thanks.” She watched the steam rise, and then glanced at me, her brow furrowed. “Are you Irish?” “What?” “Finn Donoghue, it’s a very Irish name.” “Oh. Yeah. I mean, probably somewhere along the line. What about you? Italian?” She laughed. “Why would you think that?” “Your name. Alessandra.” “Well, kind of. One quarter. My dad is half and obsessed with it. I have a brother called Maurizio. My sister got away with Lisa. I think mine is the worst.” “I think it’s nice.” I said thoughtfully. “Unique.” She shrugged. “I guess.” I watched out of the corner of my eye as she tentatively ate some porridge. “This isn’t porridge.” she said, frowning. “This is ...

... way too nice.” I laughed. “I swear it contains mostly oats.” She shook her head at me. “I’m serious. This is really good. You should sell this.” I eyed her warily. “You’re just being nice.” “I’m not!” she said, wide-eyed. “I would pay for this. Honestly, I would. What have you put in it?” “Sugar. And butter. A bit of milk. But it’s not really the ingredients that matter. It’s how you put them together.” She didn’t laugh at me. She believed every word. I told her how to make it step-by-step, as she finished her bowl and rinsed it out. “Are you late?” I asked, walking her to the door. “Later than late.” she said, unconcernedly. “But, who cares? I had a nice time. And an awesome breakfast.” I smiled. “So I guess I’ll see you around.” “I guess so.” she said quietly and she was gone. I wandered over the window, and before long I saw her slight figure cross the road, her jacket tugged close. She walked perfectly straight, and every few steps she ran a little, hurrying but not rushing. I exhaled slowly. Part of me wanted to chase after her and offer to walk with her but I didn’t. I just sat there on the windowsill, long after she’d disappeared from view, and thought about what I could do to make whatever we had last. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I tried to reassure myself that I wasn’t a bad guy. I hadn’t hurt her. She liked me. I was sure she liked me. If she didn’t she probably would have gone without even talking, walked out in the middle of the night. She definitely wouldn’t have ...