knowing I chose them.
“You think you’re runnin’ shit,” he says,
squeezing the back of my neck.
“But when my tongue’s fuckin’ you,
“I’m the one cashin’ in.”
My stomach’s turning inside out.
His grip at my neck tightens.
“Say it,” he growls. “Say you’re mine.”
Say you’re mine.
Say you need me.
Say the thing that makes me feel bigger than you.
I laugh the kind of laugh women save to cut men in half. But it’s only to keep me from crying in front of him.
He can have the moment,
the hour,
but never the girl.
“Fuck you,” I say instead.
Two words dropping like two tears.
I’ll never be anyone’s again.
A growl rolls out of his chest.
“That’s how you wanna be?”
I pull against the cuffs again to test the bite,
to remind myself how much I’ve given away.
But the only thing I have left to hold is my breath.
He grabs my ass with both hands?—
a full, greedy grip,
his fingers digging into my flesh.
His thumbs slide down, then spread me open.
A strangled sound slips from my throat.
“Already fuckin’ wet,” he mutters, cocky.
My body’s just doing what it’s supposed to, what it craves. Sometimes it’s easier to stop fighting and hope my mind and heart are strong enough to survive the fallout, and I can still look myself in the mirror afterward.
