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“So good. You feel so good. Ooh, fuck, baby,” he moans, and it goes straight to my core. Reaching between us, he lightly plays with my clit. “You’re mine. You know that, right? You’re fucking mine in every way now.”
I agree with a nod.
“No. You say it. You declare it now—that you belong to me. That I own all of you now.”
I gulp, moaning so loud when he pinches my clit. “God! Yes! Oh! Yes! I’m yours.”
“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not God. The name is Theo, puppet. Now come. Come for your man.”
I do as he says, so ready to orgasm. “Theo, baby, oh!” I scream out, throwing my head back and wrapping my arms around his shoulders. I come so fast and hard it’s like a lightning bolt straight from my core, my walls trembling, and then reverberating in my clit. Who knew love could also create the most intense orgasms?
“Fuck. Fuck. Ohh, yeah. Shit!” He comes, and I feel all of it, his hot spurts of cum coating my walls and my insides. “Tell me you love me. Give me your ownership,” he growls, his orgasm still riding its high as mine slows down.
“I love you. I hate it, but I do. I love you, Theo,” I whisper, and he reaches down, circling my clit, and I come again. “Oh God! Choke me, please. I need it.” He does, just like he’s done since this started. Whether it be in an act of dominance, desire, or now in the name of claiming and love. I will never be able to live without that controlling touch.
We come down, and he lays us back, but then I stand, suddenly feeling something I can’t explain. I don’t know how to tell him, so I play it off. “Can we shower? My body is a little sore.” That’s true, but it’s not what’s really happening inside me. Something else that feels familiar, but I can’t seem to place it. I almost feel like I’ve lost my mind. So all I can think to do is get us in the shower and not talking.
“How about a bath, baby?” he suggests, and I nod, making my way to the bathroom. He catches up to me and wraps his arms around my waist, kneading the softness of my stomach. “Why you rushing? You trying to get out of my hands or something?”
I just laugh, waving it off. What is happening to me right now? When he was telling me he loved me, I was on cloud nine, and now I’m a mess of emotions that don’t feel like the good kind at all. I must be getting ready for my period. My PCOS makes them impossible to track they’re so irregular. They tend to mess with my emotional state a little more than usual.
Yeah, that’s it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THEO
We finished our bath, sharing small talk. I can’t believe it happened. I confessed to her what I swore I wouldn’t. But the second she said it was over, I went mad. I even went as far as thinking I could lock her up in some fucking tower and keep her to myself, but I know that’s not the right thing to do.
But was it right?
In the bath, I shared every minute thing with her—my Greek heritage, what high school was like for me, and a bunch of random things that didn’t matter. Now that “I love you” has come out, there is a secret that dangles, and if I don’t tell her soon, it will end us. But at the same time, telling her just might end us too.
Yet time is running out, and I can’t hold off or protect her for much longer.
I leave her in the bathroom to do her skin care routine, and I lie in the bed watching her, taking in her beauty, while that nagging voice in the back of my head fills me with guilt.
Tell her. Take her somewhere she can’t run, and tell her. Let her learn the truth, and give her a place to make her forgive you, I tell myself over and over again. Luckily, I’m interrupted when I notice she is staring at herself in the mirror, a look of pure distain in her eyes while looking over her reflection.
She looks ashamed. I don’t miss it. She may think she’s subtle when hiding her self-ridicule, but no. I see it, I loathe it, and it makes me seethe. Women like her should thrive when looking in the mirror, come alive with pride, and the image of her own body should even cause her to become arouse. But even after all the times I’ve fucked her, claimed her, and praised her under my hands, she still doesn’t see it, feel it, or believe it.
