Obsessive Compulsion
The Stables (#2)
By: C.E. Kilgore
Copyright 2013
Tracing The Stars at Smashwords
All Rights Reserved
Table Of Contents
Disclaimer
Beginning
Middle
End
The Stables Series
Book 1: All These Pieces of Me
Book 2: Obsessive Compulsion
Book 3: If You Still Want Me (2014)
Book 4: Pierce The Heart (2014)
Disclaimers
This book is a work of fiction. While references might be made to locations, products or events, the names, characters, places, products and events described in the book are a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual persons, business establishments, events or locations is entirely coincidental.
This book contains adult language and sexually explicit sense that might be considered offensive to some readers. This book is intended for mature adult audiences, of adult age as defined by the laws of the country in which this book was purchased.
BDSM remains one of the most strongly misunderstood lifestyles. I encourage anyone with an open mind to learn more about BDSM, but I urge strong caution about gaining your knowledge solely from the internet. The best place to start might be your local adult shop. None of the practices mentioned in this book should be attempted or tried without proper understanding and guidance. Some of the key principles in BDSM are trust, teaching, technique (practice) and time (patience).
Ian
I’m trying to stop my eyes from staring at her, but that’s like trying to tell my brain to stop worrying about the fact that my apartment door might still be unlocked because I only checked it twelve times this morning instead of sixteen times like I do on Thursdays. Even after twenty-eight years of the same shit, my rituals still find ways to argue with one another. Well, I can only assume that I was checking the latch on my crib when I was a baby, but I’m willing to bet money that I was.
I’ve never had my place broken into, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve never had a fire, either, but that doesn’t stop me from making sure all my appliances are unplugged before I go to bed. And I mean all the damn appliances. You think it’s no big deal until you’re trying to crawl behind a dryer at two in the morning while you’re in someone else’s apartment. Yeah. No second date from her.
Girls don’t seem to like a guy who’s a little… obsessive about some things. Okay, everything. A lot. A lot obsessive about everything.
Might as well just let it all out, Rider, while you’re staring like a shopping mall puppy, waiting for Charlie to turn your way. She’d see your sad little expression and wagging tail in the window then take the more sane puppy next to you home. The one who’s been licking his butt for an hour like a normal dog should instead of obsessing about how unsanitary it is.
Yes, my brain spends as much time obsessing about these clever little analogies as it does making sure I remember to brush my teeth. Four times. Twice on Tuesdays. Only once if it’s raining.
Fuck. I can’t even have a moment alone to myself to admire Charlie’s fiery red hair from afar, because my own mind won’t leave me the hell alone. Her hair captivates me, though. Especially on days like this, when the sun is brightly filtering down into the factory through the skylights to reflect on her waves of copper as it falls down her back. She’s neglected to put it up in her normal messy bun today and my eyes have been glued to her shimmering tresses since she walked through the door of Shoe Village.
I snort. That name. It’s been official for over a month now, ever since Emma and Brandon christened it with a bottle of champagne for that impromptu press event, but I still think it’s amusing. The Dallas city council loved it, and the press ate it up along with Emma’s adorable nature. They’ve touted it as being a revival of the Dallas art’s district. Kyle and Brandon are geniuses for planning the whole thing.
I guess I had a hand in it, too. I did ensure that enough fines were levied against Forester and his company so the sleezeball would consider Kyle’s offer to buy the place as pretty damn fair. Forester isn’t the only one who can play dirty in this town. I just make sure Brandon’s company comes out looking squeaky clean on the other end. Which it is, but sometimes you have to lower your level a bit to ensure dicks like Forester don’t tear down dreams to build ugly ass high-rises.
That’s what Shoe Village is. It’s a dream. Emma’s dream that’s become a dream for all of us, I think.
Especially her best friend Charlie. I will never forget the day Charlie stormed into our conference room, accusing Brandon of breaking Emma’s heart and slapping him so hard I think that man’s bell is still ringing. Of course, that might be wedding bells he’s hearing, now.
I can’t believe Brandon ‘I’m too fugly for women’ Peters is married, and he’s married to the cutest girl I’ve ever met. Emma is like a little doll, with her big green eyes and curlicue hair. She also has a heart bigger than her body. She saw right past all of Brandon’s scars, just like he helped her to understand that it was okay if she was a little broken inside. Those two fit so perfectly.
I’m envious of it. I’m not jealous like Kyle was, but I am envious. I want that, what they have. I’ve always wanted it. Someone who can just look at me, accept me and ignore the fact that I’m counting the number of freckles on their face or twitching over their top button being undone.
Of course, that might be the easy part. It’s not like being an OCD basket-case is your only hang-up, is it, Rider? If you manage to ever find a girl to get past your normal, clinical issues, chances are slim to none that she’d also be all for your other… tendencies. But, here you are - staring at Charlie, who you know is so far out of your league she’s not even on the same damn planet.
If ever there was a chance to say women are from Venus, Charlie is it. Then again, I’m not exactly from Mars. I’m probably from Pluto. Which isn’t even a planet anymore. Bastards.
As if cued on set from the script of my pathetic life, in walks the man of Mars himself, Kyle. Oh, lovely. He brought her a café mocha, too. Prick.
I slump back into the chair we brought in for our on-site office, pretending to read the blueprints in front of me while Kyle saunters over to her, his dark hair spiked up in that messy-gelled style girls seem to be into lately and his piercing blue eyes never leaving her. She glances up and smiles real big, her own blue eyes sparkling.
Taking off my reading glasses, I try not to vomit.
Kyle’s been zeroed in on Charlie for the past month, ever since she forgave him for almost ending Brandon and Emma’s relationship over a jealousy-fueled misunderstanding. I guess Charlie isn’t one to hold grudges. Saul and I are still discussing the possibility of stringing Kyle to the Sentinel tree by his balls, and we’ve been friends with the man for forever and a damn day. Brandon forgave him too, though I guess that’s what best friends do. I was just about to, but then the blue-eyed bastard started making passes at my Charlie.
Dammit. Charlie McLeod is not my girl, will never be my girl and is better off not having to deal with my shit. Kyle, however, doesn’t deserve her, either. I’ve know I have issues, but Kyle has issues on issues on issues and a heart he only lends out.
Not that it’s any of my business.
Actually, fuck it. You know what? It is my business, because I don’t want Charlie to end up as yet another one of Kyle’s one-nighters. The guy can’t commit, and Charlie deserves a man who will worship her every step, get on his knees, beg to see her again and crawl through glass to do whatever it takes to make her happy.
“You okay there, Rider?” Saul’s southern drawl seeps into my ears and calms my blood as he sets a coffee and
six creamers on the desk.
I take the coffee, add all the cream, stirring counter-clockwise twice between each, and add two sugars while I try to steady my voice. “Peachy.”
Saul gives me that look, where his bright blonde eyebrow is raised while his basketball-player-height is stooped over so he can peer into my eyes. He reads me better than most. “If you don’t like Masterson movin’ in, you gotta start movin’ in yourself.”
I return his evaluative look with a look of my own that tries to say leave it alone, but I know Saul reads right through it. “Charlie is not a house for rent,” I retort defensively. “She is Emma’s best friend, so she deserves respect. Her relationship preferences are not my business.”
“Bullshit,” Saul calls my bluff, pulling up a chair and swinging it around so he can sit on it backwards, leaning his chest against the backrest. “She deserves respect ‘cause she’s a fiery woman with a mean left hook who knocked our boss clear on his ass, an’ ‘cause she has a big ‘nough heart to forgive Kyle an’ accept Brandon, the club an’ everything else about our little family. She also deserves a man who’ll treat her right, an’ you an’ I both know Kyle, not by his own damn fault, won’t.”
I stare into my coffee, not at all ready for the shit storm that is going to eventually rain down on all our heads when Saul finds out the real reasons behind Kyle’s faults. Saul’s a great, loyal friend who will drop everything to help you. He’s also not the brightest crayon in the box. I’m not even part of the original posse, but I know that Kyle can’t commit to a girl because his heart was stolen and stomped on twelve years ago - by Saul’s little sister, Sarah.
“Hey!” Kyle is calling over to us from across the factory where Charlie is painting a wooden sign that will eventually go into the entryway. “You two old ladies done whispering gossip? The framers will be here in ten minutes and Brandon wants to have a meeting with them before they get started.”
Framers. The past month has been spent repairing the old leather shoe factory and getting it up to code. Today, the actual building begins. Eventually, this shoe factory is going to have thirty-two two-story townhouses inside it, along with a treed street, a park, a playground, shops and everything else you’d expect in a village. There’s even been talk about letting in birds.
I put the lid back on my coffee and stand from the desk, grabbing the blueprints and giving Saul one last ‘please let it go’ look. He frowns with a sigh but nods, following me through the door to the construction yard outside. I didn’t look at Charlie as I left. I couldn’t. I can’t even glance at her without my brain freezing me in place for at minimum five minutes, and I have a job to do.
Maybe Saul is right and I should make a move on Charlie, but that would require me to plan out an exact path so I end on an even numbered step and don’t have to start back at the beginning. It’s not that I don’t think she’s worth the effort, because she is, but I just don’t know what would happen to my head if she laughs while I backtrack to try again. And again. And again.
More frightening, I don’t know what would happen to my head if she stood there, patiently waiting for me to reach her.
Charlie
Kyle brought me a café mocha for the fourth day in a row. After Emma let slip that it’s my favorite drink, Kyle’s been giving me one every chance he gets. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the gesture. I do, and there is no way my cravings are going to allow me to turn down a frothy hot cup of chocolate flavored caffeine. It wouldn’t bother me, either, if I thought it was because he was still trying to make up with me after being a total ignorant, conceited, arrogant ass in regards to Emma. I’m over that, he’s been forgiven and he knows it.
The café mocha addiction support from Kyle bothers me because I know he’s trying to get into my pants. Boys like Kyle, I can sense coming a mile away. And I do mean it when I say boys.
Oh, he’s a man alright, physically speaking. Average height, piercing blue eyes that I’m sure have seen more than their fair share of dropped panties, and a decent build of muscle I know he gets from going to the gym four times a week minimum, just like all these males now hanging around Emma. I guess when you’re expected to be in bondage gear once a week, you have to keep up appearances.
That thought makes me laugh a little into my café mocha as I watch Kyle swagger his hips out the door after Saul and Ian. And boy, does he ever swagger. I haven’t seen it yet, but I can picture all three of their tight asses in leather, and I wouldn’t be a woman if that didn’t make me at least a little warm under the collar. And… elsewhere…
Bondage. Leather. BDSM. Oh, mercy…
When Emma told me what kind of things Brandon was mixed up in with his specialty ‘members only’ club, The Stables, I nearly dragged her out of that hospital and drove her to the safety of my folks’ place up in Oklahoma. It’s not that I’m a prude, not even by a very long shot, it’s just that Emma is my best friend. My girl. If it hadn’t been absolutely clear that she was one hundred percent okay with it and that Brandon wasn’t an amazing guy, I wouldn’t of stepped aside.
She’s happy though, and Brandon really is a great guy. A great guy who just happens to own a BDSM club he runs from his family’s farm on the weekend with the same people he builds villages in shoe factories with during the week. Now Emma is living on that farm while she gets herself back together, and she keeps inviting me out to do something called a debut at the club.
I’m actually kina curious what kind of stuff goes down at their club on Friday nights. I know eventually I’m gonna have to take her up on her request so I can learn about this new part of her life. As her best friend, who has royally messed up more than once when it comes to her, I owe her at least giving it all a chance. I guess I’m just waiting for that extra push and maybe for Kyle to back off a little.
I’m not sure how long it’s going to take, though, for him to take the hint that I can smell the sex-boy cologne on him and want no part of it. I’m not interested in becoming another one-night belt-notch. I’ve had way too many of those already.
I’m only twenty-seven, but maybe it’s time I slowed down just a tad. I have standards, but I don’t see anything wrong with enjoying a good romp in the hay when the moment is there. Life is all about moments, and you can either live them or let them pass you by.
I’m all about living.
Sleeping through the attractive men who have formed a tight circle around Emma, however, may not be the best course of action. Even if picturing them in leather makes me drool a little.
Kyle is a definite no. I can tell he’s not looking for anything close to semi-exclusive. Emma said she hasn’t seen him with the same girl twice in a row yet. None of my business if a guy wants to be a man-whore, but that’s not my glass of brandy, either.
Saul is a blonde-headed tall drink of water with an easy smile and a southern drawl that makes him sound like he should be wearing a cowboy hat, boots and nothing else to bed. Yes, I’ve had that mental picture in my head for at least two weeks, but Saul is also off the table. Poor guy is completely devoted to Victoria, despite things being a little complicatedly rocky between them. Emma hasn’t elaborated on the why of that, but that’s also not my business.
Emma may be part of their little family now, but I’m not quite sure where, or if, I fit in. Victoria said I’m one of the girls, but sometimes I feel like that weird distant cousin at the reunion that everyone acknowledges but leaves to fend for herself on the bench-of-solitude all day. I’m admittedly a little jealous, because it’s always just been me and Emma. I’m also glad she has all these new people in her life that seem to accept and support her and her quirks.
Saul said it best on the day I met everyone – ‘aint none of us is exactly screwed on straight’. Everyone’s got their hang-ups, their oddities, those things that make them unique. Most people just try and hide them while at the same time pointing and laughing or looking down their nose at everyone else’s. Not this bunch. No, they tend to wear them right out in the
open and encourage others to do the same.
Sure, they tone it down during the week when interacting with people for business, but on off hours and the weekend, anything goes. I have to respect that, and maybe be a little bit envious of it. I guess the only hold up is me. I just need to jump in, take up Emma’s invitation and see if I can completely accept all of who they are.
How can I expect them to let me all the way in if I don’t at least try and meet them halfway?
The door reopens and Ian walks in, striding purposefully back to the desk set near the factory’s side entrance. He’s cute. Handsome in a toned down GQ magazine kind of way. Nothing in your face sexy – just simple features like hazel eyes, sandy brown hair and a pleasing, perhaps a bit boyish, face. He’s also a sweet, genuine guy, when I can get him to talk to me.
Not sure if I’ve offended him somehow, or maybe he’s just shy, but I’ve been getting the feeling that he does his best to avoid me. On that first day I met everyone, he’d knelt in front of me and dried my tears with a napkin then glued himself to my side as we searched for Emma. While Emma was in the hospital, he continued to be there when I needed anything, often times simply just being someone next to me so I wouldn’t feel so alone.
I was dealing with a lot of guilt, and I know I still am, about what happened to Emma. Both times. God, how could I let her down like that twice?
Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe that’s why Ian’s pulled away, just like he doesn’t seem to be talking much to Kyle. Now that the dust has settled and Ian’s come to realize what a horrible best friend I am, maybe he’s decided my ass belongs on that bench-of-solitude.
“Miss McLeod?”
Ian’s voice startles me out of my guilty thoughts and I force a smile onto my lips. “Please, call me Charlie. Hearin’ ‘Miss McLeod’ just makes a girl feel old.”