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That is making a commitment before knowing what kind of commitment it is.
No.
It won’t happen.
I will only pick a man who is not afraid to commit to me first. And that will only happen if I actually choose someone.
Right now, I’m too irritated to even think about it. I won’t take my pick anytime soon.
I try to get into the moment, but the idea of having an orgasm right now is completely removed from my head.
It’s not that I’m not there. I am, and I’m edging. I feel like my core is about to explode, but my brain is conflicted, seeking ways to fight my feelings.
My frustration with Kai is just another way of expressing my feelings for him.
Like the physical reaction I had when he picked me up.
Like the tears I shed when he had me in his apartment.
Those traitorous tears had said so much about my feelings, and the way he touched me said so much about the way he felt.
This story loops an invisible rope around my neck, tightening and tightening, taking me closer to a moment of revelation or a perfect confession.
He’s testing me as if forging a blade. And I fall for his tricks because the reasons compelling him to do that are genuine.
The man wants to know if I’m capable of loving someone.
He just wants to know. That makes two of us.
But right now, Kai better stay away from me if he doesn’t want to feel my wrath.
As cold and angry as I am, I experience heat surges through my body. This is as close as I can get to a hate fuck, although there is no hate between Roman and me, my animosity being directed to another man.
Roman likes it rough––I knew it––and he’s only offered me a more appealing, tamer version, in the beginning, to compel me to say yes.
Right now, I want it rough too.
I wouldn’t be able to put a shred of affection into my touch or my lips. I am so angry that it’s either this or nothing.
So we fuck.
Once he senses me longing for pain, he pounds me mercilessly, gripping my neck and opening me in ways I’ve never been opened.
Come to think of it, I’m angry with all of them. Although I bear the entire responsibility for how things have turned out.
Me being here under this man’s body is my doing.
I said yes. I wanted that freedom. I wanted his money. And I never thought about the consequences.
See, once you’re getting into something bad, the next time you’re doing it is no longer an issue.
It feels all right.
And now, he feels more than all right. Because I’m high, and I like the way he drives his hard-on into me.
He pulls my hair and plunges into me until I feel the tightening in my belly, and I start to quiver, the tension becoming unbearable.
The harder I shake, the harder he enters me, tipping me over while continuing to fuck me. I come, getting yanked into a haze of lust, crazy hormones, and brief obliteration of critical thinking.
