The Twisted Obsession-Chapter 298: Tangled in a web

REMO’S POV

A/N: Focuses more on his emotions than the smut^^

Remo stared at Abby, her tear-streaked face tugging at something deep inside him. He knew better. He knew she was playing him, twisting his emotions to keep him close, but damn if he didn’t feel like he was falling deeper into her trap with every breath. Her soft sobs echoed in his ears, making it impossible to pull away, no matter how much his rational mind screamed at him to stop.

As he reached out, his fingers brushing against her trembling lips, a rush of possessiveness surged through him. This woman, with all her twisted games and manipulative tricks, was his. He had tried to protect her, tried to be the shield between her and the world, but somehow, she had become his weakness. And he hated it—hated how much he wanted her, how much he needed to claim her, to prove to himself that despite everything, he still had control.

But control was slipping away, and all he could think about was making her his, right here and now.

"Abby," he whispered, his voice rough with pent-up frustration and longing. He saw the flicker of something in her eyes—fear, excitement, anticipation. It only made his need stronger, more urgent. He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her close until their bodies were pressed together, her warmth seeping into him like a drug he couldn’t quit.

"Do you know what you’re doing to me?" he growled, his lips hovering over hers. She was panting, her eyes wide as if she hadn’t expected this intensity. But he saw the way her pupils dilated, the way her breath hitched—she wanted this just as much as he did.

"I need you," she breathed, her voice shaky but resolute. "I can’t—can’t lose you, Remo."

He didn’t reply with words. Instead, he crushed his mouth against hers, pouring all his anger, frustration, and desire into the kiss. It was punishing, rough, and she whimpered against him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as if anchoring herself. He deepened the kiss, tasting her desperation, feeling the way she melted against him. She was his, all of her, every broken, manipulative piece, and right now, that was all that mattered.

His lips moved from her mouth to her neck, leaving a trail of rough kisses along her skin. She tilted her head back, giving him more access, and he took full advantage, biting down just enough to leave marks—his marks—on her pale flesh. She whimpered, the sound going straight to his core, driving him further into the madness that was his desire for her.

Remo’s hands roamed over her body, tracing every curve as if memorizing her. When he reached her breasts, he paused, his thumb brushing over her hardened nipples. He could feel her pulse quicken beneath his touch, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Without warning, he lowered his head, capturing one of her nipples in his mouth, biting down just hard enough to make her gasp. He looked up at her, watching the way her eyes fluttered closed, her lips parting in a soft moan. He wanted to hear more, to push her to the edge and see her completely undone by his touch.

He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his mouth and teeth working in tandem to drive her wild. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her breath hitching with every bite, every kiss. Remo felt a surge of satisfaction as she writhed beneath him, her body responding to him in ways that made it clear she was as addicted to this as he was.

Suddenly, without warning, he scooped her up into his arms, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he stood. She let out a small cry of surprise, her arms clinging to his neck as he carried her across the room. Remo’s eyes never left hers, the intensity between them building with every step. When he reached the bed, he lowered her down onto it, not gently but with a possessiveness that left no room for doubt.

She looked up at him with those wide, tear-filled eyes, and he saw her love—or whatever it was she felt for him—reflected back at him. It was twisted, but it was real. And God help him, but he needed it, needed her.

He hovered over her for a moment, taking in the sight of her flushed face, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

"Remo," she whispered, her voice trembling, filled with need.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "You’re mine, Abby. Do you understand that?" His voice was low, rough with the effort of holding back the storm inside him.

She nodded, her eyes glistening with tears as she whispered back, "I’m yours, Remo. Always."

Something in her words snapped the last thread of control he had, and he captured her mouth in a bruising kiss, his hands moving over her body with a need that was almost painful. He could feel her responding, her body arching into him, her nails digging into his back as if she couldn’t get close enough.

His hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, his teeth grazing her lower lip before he moved to her neck again. He bit down, hard enough to leave a mark, and she moaned, the sound sending a jolt of electricity through him. He wanted to hear more of those sounds, wanted to push her until she was crying out his name, lost in the same dark desire that consumed him.

He trailed his kisses lower, biting and sucking at her skin, leaving a path of red marks in his wake. Her hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He could feel her trembling beneath him, her body taut with anticipation, and it only drove him further, his need to claim her, to possess her, overtaking everything else.

Remo paused, his gaze locking with hers as he hovered over her, taking in the sight of her disheveled hair, her swollen lips, and the glazed look in her eyes. She was a vision, a siren calling him to crash against the rocks, and he was powerless to resist.

He pulled away and discarded his trousers before hovering over her again. With one last possessive kiss, he moved to fulfill the unspoken promise between them, his hands gripping her hips as he claimed her fully.

He wasn’t gentle. He didn’t want to be. This wasn’t about love or tenderness; it was about possession, about reminding her—and himself—that she was his, that no matter what games she played, he was the one in control. But as their bodies moved together, he realized that maybe he wasn’t in control at all. Maybe she had won, and he was just fooling himself into thinking he had any power left.

As he moved above her, his breathing ragged and labored, he watched her face—watched the way her eyes watered, the way her lips trembled as she tried to keep up with him. He knew she was on the edge, knew she was about to break, and it only spurred him on.

"Remo," she gasped, her voice breaking as she clung to him. He didn’t slow down, didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath. He was relentless, pushing her further, needing to hear her scream his name, to know that she was as lost in this as he was.

And when she finally did, when she cried out for him, he felt something inside him snap. He buried his face in her neck, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release, needing to mark her, to claim her in every way possible.

When it was over, when they were both spent and gasping for air, he didn’t move. He stayed where he was, holding her close, feeling the way her heart pounded against his chest. He didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to face the reality of what had just happened, of what it meant.

But as he lay there, his mind racing, he knew the truth. He was trapped, caught in a web of his own making, and Abby was the one holding the strings. And the worst part? He wasn’t sure he wanted to be free.

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