"Look at me." He growled, yanking on her hands. "Stop making excuses to leave me. Forget everything your fucking mother told you. You deserve to be happy, and Bree, I can make you happy."
His eyes hardened and darkened. A lump of emotions choked her as she realized it wasn't anger coming from him but torment. He was scared of losing her.
The curtain he held so protectively around him all the time had slipped. She lost the fight, swallowed hard, and nodded. "I'll stay," she whispered.
For several seconds, he continued looking down at her. The only movement between them was his cock throbbing and her pussy clenching him in the same timing as her heartbeat. The air was thick with tension, cracking to explode in a fiery finale.
He swiftly pulled out of her and stood. She stared in disbelief. What had she done? Why wouldn't he finish?
"Serge?" She pushed herself to a sitting position and grabbed her jeans, holding them to the front of her. "Why wouldn't you—"
"Get dressed." He swept up her ripped T-shirt and cleaned his still hard cock before tucking himself back in and zipping his jeans. "I'm late and need to go. You can shut and lock the door after I leave."
Naked, emotionally raw, and unable to comprehend what happened, she blinked at him, not knowing what to do. "But we were..."
"We were what, Bree?" He scanned her body, flaring when his gaze found the red marks left on her arms. "You need me."
She gasped. Was he telling her that he was the only one who could make her orgasm? That without him, she would never find the pleasure that she gets with him? Was he really going to leave her hanging on the verge of a climax to prove his point?
"You don't play fair." She clamped her teeth.
The corner of his mouth lifted, but there was nothing jovial about the grin. "We'll finish tonight. Here. In my house."
She glared. He'd manipulated her, knowing she'd want him again, and again. And, again.
He strolled toward the hallway. "Walk me out."
A few seconds later, she followed him silently. When he kissed her goodbye, she kissed him back without saying a word. She locked the door behind him. Without waiting to make sure he really left, she walked up the stairs to his bedroom to get cleaned up and dressed.
He'd underestimated her. She was stronger than either of them imagined.
As her arousal waned and she became more in control of herself, he wasn't there to stop her when she packed a bag. She ignored the tears rolling down her cheeks.
Her lack of confidence was a deep scar inside of her. It wouldn't disappear overnight or in six months of dating. He had to understand for how confident he was about them– she would always fear never being enough for him.
Ifshe stayed in his house.Ifshe allowed herself to love him.Ifshe continued letting him have his way every time they disagreed, she'd lose herself in the process.
Ifshe let him take everything from her, she'd never survive.
