Dangerous Desires

1

Copyright © 2003 by Ray Gordon.

First published in Great Britain in 2003

by Hodder & Stoughton

A division of Hodder Headline PLC

First published in paperback in 2003

By Hodder & Stoughton

First published as an E-book in 2006 by Ray Gordon.

The rights of Ray Gordon to be identified as the author

of Addicted has been asserted by him in accordance

with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be

reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted,

in any form or by any means without the prior written

permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in

any form of binding or cover other than that in which it

is published and without a similar condition being imposed

on the subsequent purchaser.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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2

nnabelle relaxed in the bath, the water lapping gently at her fleshy vaginal lips like a A warm tongue as she revelled in the beautiful sensations. Her fingers toying with the dark curls covering her vulval flesh, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Nothing could go wrong now, she was sure as her arousal heightened. A new house, a new life ... Her divorce now final, this was her fist day of real freedom. She felt that a great weight had been lifted from her and, at long last, she could be herself. At twenty-six years old, she had her life to look forward to. This was a new beginning, the first day of her new life, her first taste of happiness.

Opening her eyes and gazing at the bathroom door, she smiled. The door was open, but her ex-husband wouldn’t come in and start his nagging and complaining. Brian was no longer the bain of her life. He was no longer a heavy chain around her neck. Caressing the sensitive nubble of her solid clitoris, she wondered why she’d married the man. He’d not been bad looking and he’d earned pretty good money. But, that fateful day she’d walked down the aisle, she’d not known of his peculiar mental state.

In many ways, Brian was like a spoilt child, she reflected. He sulked if he didn’t get his own way, he wouldn’t speak for two or three days, he’d eat nothing and stay in bed. He was a pathetic excuse for a man. But he also treated Annabelle like a child. If she was going to visit a friend and said that she’d be home about six, he’d call her mobile phone at five past six and ask her where she was. He’d not wanted her to have friends. Trying to imprison her in and suffocate her, he was an overbearing and extremely oppressive character.

3

Annabelle had endured the marriage for eight years when the lucky break came. During one of his mental fits, Brian had ordered her out of the house, telling her that they were finished.

This was what she’d been waiting for. Concealing a grin as she’d packed her things, she’d left him and moved in with a friend. Within a week, Brian was following her, spying on her, checking up on her movements. Determined to discover where she was living, he’d phoned their friends, disguising his voice and making out that he was from the bank and had to contact Annabelle as a matter of urgency.

She’d finally agreed to meet him for a drink to discuss the house and finances. But he’d had ulterior motives. When they met in a small café, he told her that she’d be nothing without him, she’d end up in some seedy bedsit with no money. He then made his announcement. He was prepared to give her another chance, one last chance. Annabelle hadn’t wanted another chance.

She’d wanted normality, freedom. Trying not to rile him, she’d said that they’d give it a few months and then talk again. Although agitated, he’d accepted her proposal. But, little did he know that she’d never go back to him.

Massaging her responsive clitoris as she lay in the bath, she had no idea of the horrendous nightmares that lay ahead. Brian was still nagging, complaining, trying to cause trouble by telling her friends that she was a slag and had screwed around during their marriage.

In her naivety, she believed that he’d finally realize that she wasn’t going back to him and he’d accept that the marriage was over. She thought that he’d move on, build a new life without her.

But she had no idea how insanely obsessive he’d become.

4

While she was waiting to move into her new house, she’d rented a flat. It was only a single room with an en suite bathroom, but it was home. She’d thought that Brian had had no idea where she was living, until two police officers turned up. They accused her of sending threatening text messages to his mobile phone. She’d not even known that he’d bought a mobile phone, let alone known the number. The police obviously realized that this was a domestic dispute and left it at that. When they’d gone, Annabelle had laughed. And then she’d cried. What was Brian trying to do? A threatening text message? She’d wanted no contact with him, and would hardly send him messages.

She’d laughed when a friend had said that Brian was a dangerous man. Brian, dangerous?

She’d never heard anything so ridiculous. Annabelle was convinced that he’d burn himself out and eventually give up on her. She was sure that, as time passed, he’d focus his weird mental energies on something or someone else. Little did she know that, with the passing of time, Brian’s insane quest to destroy her would become a mental obsession. She wasn’t sure what he wanted. He’d got the house, the furniture, the car ... He probably didn’t know what he wanted.

Why wouldn’t he leave her alone and get on with his own life?

Massaging the soft wings of her inner lips, stretching and twisting the fleshy protrusions, she breathed heavily in her heightening arousal. Masturbating with Brian around had been difficult, she reflected. Waiting until he’d fallen asleep, she’d massage her clitoris to orgasm, stifling her sighs of pleasure as the bed had rocked gently. There had been times when her arousal had rocketed, and yet she’d had to wait for hours for an opportunity to masturbate her clitoris to orgasm.

5

Now, relaxing in the bath in her own house, she was able to appease her yearning clitoris, her hungry vagina. Repeatedly thrusting her fingers deep into the spasming sheath of her tight pussy, she continued to caress her solid clitoris. The warm water splashing between her thighs as she quickened her vaginal pistoning, she let out whimpers of pleasure as she neared the climax of her self-loving. Her outer labia swelling, hugging her fingers, her clitoris fully erect, she was desperate for the relief of orgasm. With the worry and anxiety of the divorce, she’d not been able to relax and enjoy her young body until now.

Wondering when she’d next have a man pleasure her, force his solid cock deep into her vagina and bathe her ripe cervix with his sperm, she couldn’t recall the last time Brian had fucked her. Shampoo bottles, cucumbers, candles ... She’d used anything and everything to substitute a rock-hard penis during her masturbation sessions. She’d once bought a small vibrator from a catalogue, but Brian had discovered her secret lover and flung himself into one of his mental rages. In his insecurity, he’d thought that he was no longer needed to satisfy Annabelle’s sexual appetite. He’d felt redundant, useless ... Which, in Annabelle’s eyes, he was.

Taking the shampoo bottle from the side of the bath as her vaginal muscles spasmed, Annabelle pressed the flat end of the bottle hard against the pink cone of flesh surrounding her sex hole. Easing the plastic phallus deep into her tight vagina until the end pressed hard against her ripe cervix, she shuddered as her ripe clitoris emerged fully from beneath its protective pinked hood. Massaging the sensitive tip of her pleasure bud, she gasped as the beautiful sensations transmitted deep into her pelvis, permeating her young womb.

6

The eruption came with an explosion of pleasure. Her naked body shaking violently, her vaginal muscles gripping the plastic bottle like a velvet-jawed vice, she fervently massaged her pulsating clitoris. Again and again waves of pure sexual bliss rolled through her naked body, the water splashing between her twitching thighs as she repeatedly rammed the bottle deep into the hugging sheath of her sex-drenched vagina. Her pleasure finally beginning to subside, she slowed her vaginal pummelling, her fingertip caressing the fading ripples of orgasm from her throbbing clitoris. The water calming, she lay with the plastic phallus embedded deep within her vaginal canal as she recovered from her massive orgasm. She’d masturbate daily, she decided, again relieved to think that Brian wasn’t around. She’d buy another vibrator and masturbate every day.

“Damn,” she breathed as the doorbell rang. Slipping the bottle out of her burning sex sheath and leaping out of the bath, she grabbed her dressing gown and bounded down the stairs.

Brian had somehow discovered her new address, but he wouldn’t turn up on the doorstep, she was sure. The police had told her to keep away from him and had no doubt given him the same advice. To turn up at her new house would be crazy. There again, he
was
crazy.

“Mrs Davis?” a police officer asked as Annabelle opened the front door.

“I was,” she replied, frowning as second policeman walked up the path. “I’m divorced now.”

“This won’t take a minute,” he said, smiling at her. “Your ex-husband has said that you’ve sent him a threatening letter.”

“A threatening letter?” she breathed disbelievingly. “I’ve never written to him let alone threatened him.”

7

“OK. If you have written to him, then don’t do it again. If you haven’t, then I’m sorry to have troubled you.”

“Where is this letter?” she asked. “Presumably, you’ve seen it?”

“No, no. Apparently, he threw it away.”

“Oh, how convenient,” she quipped. “The text message I was supposed to have sent him miraculously deleted itself.”

“Yes, we know about that. Try not to do anything to rile him, Mrs Davis.”

“
Me
?” she gasped. “He’s the one who’s been trying to cause trouble. I just want to get on with my life. All I want is to be left in peace.”

“Yes, I understand. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

Closing the door, Annabelle couldn’t believe her ex-husband’s audacity. What the hell was he trying to achieve? she wondered. What was the point in running to the police with his ludicrous allegations of a text message and a threatening letter? He was trying to cause trouble, that was obvious. But why? He’d got what he’d wanted. He’d ordered her out of the house and had got a divorce and ... But that hadn’t been what he’d wanted. The house, the furniture, divorce

... He’d thought that Annabelle would go back to him, go crawling back with her tail between her legs.

“That’s it,” she murmured as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom and dressed. The realization hitting her, everything fitted into place. He’d thought that she’d go creeping back and he could then forgive her and allow her to return on his terms and conditions. Once he’d realized that she wasn’t going home, his crazy plan to teach her a lesson backfiring on him, he’d set out on his quest to destroy her. He
was
like a child, she mused. If he couldn’t have Annabelle, then 8

he’d make sure that no one else could. Like a child who doesn’t want a toy and smashes it so no one else can have it, he was trying to break Annabelle.

Sitting at her dressing table and brushing her long black hair, all she could do was hope that Brian would eventually give up and move on. But, the more she thought about his peculiar mental ways, the state of his mind, the more she realized that he would continue to hound her.

He’d always been obsessive, getting a bee in his bonnet and not letting go until he’d won. But he’d have to give up eventually, she was sure. They’d been apart for six months now. His insane quest to destroy her wouldn’t go on for a year, would it?

“Hi, Dave,” she said softly, answering the bedside phone. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Are you OK? You sound pissed off.”

“No, no, ... I’m all right, honestly.”

“I have the day off and was wondering whether you needed anything doing in the house.

You said something about wanting the washing machine plumbed in.”

“Yes, that would be great. I have a pile of washing building up. I’d like to get the curtains washed. The people I brought the house from obviously smoked. The curtains stink.”

“OK, I’ll grab my toolbox and be with you in half an hour.”

“Thanks, Dave. I’ll put the kettle on.”

“Great. See you soon.”

Annabelle had known Dave since she’d been at school. Brian hadn’t wanted her to have anything to do with him, or any of her other friends, and they’d finally lost contact. Free of Brian, she’d bumped into Dave in a coffee shop one afternoon and had got chatting. He was 9