I would and I wouldn’t feel an ounce of shame.
What is he doing to to me?
His fingers then tease my pussy. His hot breath hits against my neck as he speaks. “You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you? Tell me, Grace, if I were to slam you against the wall over there would you let me fuck you?”
I never knew I would be so into dirty talk but Oak has the filthiest mouth I have ever heard. And it’s only turning me on more.
“Everyone would know you’re mine. That this sweet body,” with his other hand he slides it across my body, over the flare of my hips and the swell of my breast, “is mine. That this pussy,” he then dips an inch of his index finger inside my pussy and I clamp around him, greedily, “is fucking mine.”
Before I can even entertain the idea he slips his finger out of me and I whimper at the loss. Then he turns me around and I watch transfixed as he takes that same finger glistening with my arousal and sucks it into his mouth.
He hums in appreciation and his eyes flare as he pops his finger out. “You taste like fucking honey. Better than anything I could have ever imagined.”
“Oak,” I plea.
“Tell me you’re mine, Grace. Tell me you’re mine and I’ll fuck you so hard that every time you walk you’ll be reminded of me.”
I want that.
I want that so fucking bad.
But I want more than just that.
I want all of him.
His heart, body and soul.
I want him to let me in.
And if I can’t have all of him then I don’t want what he’s offering at all.
“No,” I say to him on barely a whisper but he hears it.
His eyes narrow with disbelief as he breathes, “No?”
I nod my head and with more conviction I repeat, “No.” He stands there stunned but I know it has to be done. It’s the only way we will ever become more. I place my hand on his chest right above his heart. “If you want me, if I’m yours like you claim I am then you have to be mine, Oak.”
“I am yours, Grace. I told you before and I’m telling you now, I’m fucking yours. There isn’t anyone else for me but you.”
“And I believe you,” I agree with him partly but he’s still missing the point. “But how can you be mine if you never let me in?”
He swallows thickly, averting his gaze as the familiar glint of pain enters. When he’s eyes return to mine they look as if they’re pleading with me. “Grace, what if I can’t?”
“You can, Oak.”
“Grace-”
I shake my head. “No, you don’t get to call me Grace until you figure out what you want.”
His hands come to my hips and he pulls me against him. “I want you,” he tells me fiercely.
“Then are you going to let me in?”
His fingers dig in my hips and I could care less about the bruising grip. It’s as if he’s trying to hold onto me and that if he lets go I’ll be gone forever.
But I’m still here. I’m still fighting for him. I’m still fighting for us. But I need him to fight against the insecurities in his head. I need him to fight the war inside his head. He can surrender to me but not to himself.
“You’re giving up the fight?”
