Endless Obsession: Episode 1 - 20 (Season 1)???? : TOPSTER STORIES

Endless Obsession – Episode 6

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Episode 06








Feeling irritated, I close the program, bring up the email Eric sent over and bid him entrance, already wishing this meeting was over so I can get in my car, drive over to Poppy’s, and watch through her window as she gets ready for bed.




It doesn’t take me long to get to Poppy’s house. Of course, that may be because I broke a few speeding laws along the way. The need to see her was strong, especially after my plans to be here earlier were thwarted by the meeting with Eric.


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By the time we were done, I swear my hands were shaking. It’s ridiculous to get that way over seeing someone that won’t even know I’m there, but I learned a long time ago, anything to do with Poppy is out of the norm. My strides to the fence are determined and impatient.




Now I’m standing in front of her window when suddenly, her head turns to face it. I step to the side with my back to the wall of the house. Seconds later, I see her shadow appear as she looks out the window. I’m not worried about her seeing me. I’m in the shadow and the angle isn’t right.




This is the first time she’s sensed me watching her, and I wonder what tipped her off. Doesn’t matter. She won’t see me unless I want her to. Even though I’m not ready to give this game up, the thrill of nearly getting caught has my dick growing in my slacks.Kindly share out stories from generalloaded.com using the floating social media icon buttons on the bottom of the screen




Poppy moves away from the window and I wait several more seconds before I peek around the frame, just as she closes the door to her bathroom.




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She’s undressing in the damn bathroom, probably spooked by her sixth sense of me at her window. And once again, my normal has been fu.cked with. She usually undresses partially in the bedroom before taking a shower.


I’m used to getting small glimpses of her and she just deprived me of that.




My eyes fall on the vase of flowers on her nightstand. A feeling of possessiveness runs through me at seeing them. I like knowing she’s sleeping close to something I gave her.




It takes a good forty-five minutes for Poppy to reappear and make her way to her bed. She unknowingly exposes her na.ked body to me and satisfies my need to see her before crawling beneath the covers. I decide not to enter her house tonight.


Having her tell me she didn’t sleep well last night and her suspicions of someone watching her tonight make me leery.




Tomorrow’s Friday, and then it’s the weekend. For normal people, Friday is their favorite day of the week because it’s the start of the weekend. For me, it’s my least favorite. It means I have two full days of no Poppy, except for watching through her window and on my computer, or my phone.



I need to spice things up, move things along, make Poppy aware of me, and that starts tomorrow.




I’ve given myself three weeks before I make my move and let her know what I


want. The trip to Texas isn’t just for a business meeting; I only need to be there for


a day or two. The rest is for me to tell Poppy everything. I picked Texas because I


know it’s a place she’s always wanted to visit. I have three weeks to make her


realize she can’t live without me, to make her fall for me so deeply that there’s no


way she can dig herself out. Because once I’ve unmasked all my secrets and Poppy


knows the extent of my obsession with her, there will be no going back. I refuse


for the outcome to be anything but having Poppy in my arms, in my home, my bed,


with my ring on her finger and my babies in her belly.








I wake to a beautifully sweet smell. When I open my eyes, they are immediately filled with a soft light lavender. A smile touches my lips when I realize they are my roses from yesterday. I grab my phone off the nightstand just as my alarm goes off. I’m not normally a morning person, preferring to sleep in, but for some reason, waking up and seeing the roses has put me in a really good mood. It’s a stupid move on my part. Like I told Liv yesterday, there’s no telling who this guy is or what’s he’s capable of.




I reach over, turn my lamp on, flip the covers back, and climb out of bed. It’s still dark outside, but through my window the sky is starting to turn a pretty pink, indicating the rising of the sun. Grabbing my robe, I pull it up my arms and belt the waist as I make my way to the bathroom. From there, I get ready for my day. I set my coffee machine at night so it kicks on and is ready for me in the mornings. I walk to the kitchen on bare feet and am met with the delicious scent of morning magic.



After making a cup and downing half of it, I go back to my bedroom. Sitting on the side of the bed, I slip one thigh-high up my leg and begin working on the second one when my phone dings with an incoming text. I grab it from my nightstand, wondering who would be texting me this early in the morning.




I frown as I glance at the screen. It’s a random number that’s not programmed into my phone. Curiously, I swipe my finger across the screen to open the message.




Unknown: Have you enjoyed the flowers I’ve sent you?




I freeze, except for my eyes, which pop open wide in shock. My breath gets caught in my throat when I realize this must be my mystery flower guy.




Holy hell! It’s him!




Why in the world is he texting me? After all this time, why contact me now? And what in the hell do I say to him? It’s become a routine. I’ve gotten used to getting the roses and not knowing who they are from. Question after question runs through my mind. Who is he? Why send me flowers? Why not introduce himself? Where did he first see me? How did he find out where I worked? And how in the hell did he get my number?




That’s my number one question, so I ask him.




Me: How did you get my number?




It only takes seconds for me to receive a reply, and I’m not sure how to take it.





Unknown: I have my ways. You didn’t answer my question.

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He has his ways? What is that supposed to mean? My chest tightens with fear at his answer. I push back the fear and ask another question I’m dying to know.




Me: They’re beautiful, thank you. Who are you?




Unknown: You’ll find out soon enough.




Umm… say what? Another question avoided. My eyes narrow in suspicion.




Me: I’m not sure I like that answer. I have no idea who you are. What if I don’t want to know you once I find out?




I notice the time on my phone and pull the second thigh-high up my leg, keeping my eyes on the screen the entire time. This is really weird, him having my number. I’m sure it’s not too hard to get the information, but it’s the point that he went through the trouble to get it. I hate being left in the dark like this.




My phone dings again, and I quickly grab it.




Unknown: You’ll want to know me. Trust me.




Trust him? That’s laughable. How can he think I’ll trust him when I have no idea who he is?




Me: It’s hard to trust someone I don’t know.



I slip my feet in my heels as I wait for him to reply. It’s doesn’t take long.




Unknown: You’ll learn.




Unsure of how to respond to that, I walk back to the kitchen to get a travel mug of coffee ready. He seems so confident, and cocky. Maybe a little too much, since it’s coming from a total stranger. How can he be so sure?




I type out my original question again.




Me: Who are you?




Unknown: Soon…




I grip my phone in frustration. Now that he’s contacted me, the need to know who sends me roses every week is overwhelming. It’s no longer a curiosity—I need to know. I should be more afraid, but I’m not, and that gives me pause. Why am I not more fearful? He’s obviously hiding something, right? But what?




He sends another text before I get a chance to reply.




Unknown: Have a good day at work, Beautiful.




What? That’s it? He has flowers delivered to me every week for eight months, messages me out of the blue with cryptic messages, then wishes me a good day at work? Pissed off vibes has my gut clenching. How dare he contact me and leave me hanging.



Me: That’s it? That’s all I get out of you?




I flip the off switch on the coffee pot, grab my now full travel mug, my purse, and with phone still in hand, I leave my house, locking it up behind me.




I’m buckling my seatbelt when he replies.




Unknown: For now, yes.




Oh no, that doesn’t work for me. He needs to give me something. He can’t just expect me to accept his non-answers.




Me: How do you know me? How do you know where I work?




Unknown: I know a lot of things about you, Poppy.




Me: You’re not helping your case of me


wanting to know you. It’s freaking me out that you know stuff about me, personal stuff, when I don’t even know your name. That’s not normal. It’s pretty stalkerish, don’t you think?







I notice the time on my phone again and see I have a few minutes before I need to leave, so I decide to wait for his reply.








Unknown: Just call me Mr. A for now. Have a safe trip to work.







I drop the phone in my lap, not liking this at all, but also begrudgingly admitting that he has me even more intrigued. I should be committed. I must be losing my mind to be captivated by this person. I don’t know him from Adam’s house cat, but I can’t help but be curious. I’m asking for trouble; I know I am. It’s stupid and reckless of me.




The flowers are such a sweet gesture, and I want to know why he does it. Fear and curiosity worm their way into my belly, but I’m not sure which is more predominant.










Endless Obsession

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