I’ve let myself get too comfortable around her. My mask has been off for too long, and now, she’s seeing a side of me that makes her angry when I’d intended to make her melt.
“Surrendering control when it comes to sex is one thing,” she seethes. “I won’t allow you to use your money to control me,Dane. Maybe you’re the one who hasn’t been paying attention to whoIam.”
My anger rises to match hers, but it’s directed at her past abuser, not her. Whoever hurt her is responsible for this argument, not me.
I try for a placating tone that doesn’t come naturally at all. Instead, my voice comes out gravelly. “Are you going to tell me who did this to you?” I challenge. “Why are you so scared of accepting my money?”
Her eyes cut away from mine, but her back remains ramrod straight. “Don’t change the subject. You’re being controlling, Dane. I don’t like it.”
I pause and consider my next words carefully. I am controlling, but I can’t let the darkest parts of me scare her away. She’s mine, but I wanther.Not a mindless, spineless little plaything.
“I’m sorry.” The words feel strange on my tongue, the shape unfamiliar. “I’m not explaining myself well because I’m angry at whoever hurt you.” That much is true. “I don’t want you to reject gifts from me because of some bastard’s cruelty. I want to take care of you, and that includes providing for you. It’s not about stripping you of your pride or forcing you to do something you don’t want to do. Yes, I’m selfish, and I want you to wear the pretty things I buy for you. But never because you feel coerced or guilted into it.”
I’m not above manipulation to get what I want, but I can hear the truth in my own words. I want Abigail to accept me and that includes accepting my gifts. I want her to trust that they won’t come with strings attached. I want her to trust in me. In us.
Her eyes search mine, and after a terrible, tense moment, she relaxes on a sigh.
“It wasn’t a man who hurt me,” she admits. “It’s my family. They wield money like a weapon. It took me years to understandit, and it’s been incredibly hard to walk away from their financial control. When I dropped out of college, they threatened to cut me off if I didn’t go back to my classes. So, I cut myself off before they could follow through. I got my barista job and started selling my paintings at the market. I’ve learned to survive on my own, and I’ve built a good life for myself. I’m not a famous artist with my own gallery, but I’m happy with my life the way it is.”
I touch two fingers beneath her chin, and she doesn’t flinch away. “Are you happy?” I challenge quietly. “Would it be so terrible to accept gifts from me? I will never ask for anything in return. I swear. Trust me.”
Her teeth sink into her lower lip, and she hesitates.
“I left my family’s wealth and expectations behind too,” I remind her. “I’ve worked hard so that I can live comfortably without their support. Let me support you now. I can’t think of a better way to spend what I’ve earned.”
“I can’t rely on you for everything,” she counters, but I can sense that she’s softening.
Our disdain for our families is a bond we share, and even though I’m exposing my own vulnerability, I will leverage this to my advantage.
“I know you can take care of yourself,” I say. “It’s one of the reasons I admire you so much. You’re tenacious and determined.”
She offers me a shaky laugh. “That’s a nice way of saying I’m stubborn.”
My lips twist in a half-smile of my own. “I didn’t say that.”
She sighs again and shakes her head, capitulating. “Okay,” she allows. “I’ll wear the dress you bought for me.” Her chin lifts. “I’m not going to let my past get in the way of our relationship. That’s all behind me now, and I won’t allow my family to control me anymore. I definitely won’t let them be the cause of an argument between us.”
I brush a kiss over her forehead. “That’s my stubborn pet,” I praise.
She laughs again, a sound of forgiveness. “It’s only okay when I say it.”
“It’s a compliment,” I assure her. “I meant it when I said I want all of you. Your sweetness and your stubbornness. I want everything.”
She sways toward me. “You have me,” she promises. “I want all of you too.”
“Done.” I seal my vow with a kiss, proving to her that I will honor the gift of her trust.
Our kiss deepens, and her breath quickens in between strokes of my tongue against hers. I tug the tie on her robe, and it falls open. She’s only wearing a tiny scrap of white lace that barely covers her pussy.
My possessiveness surges, a carnal, primal hunger that overwhelms rational thought. I fist the delicate panties in both hands and tear them off her, revealing my pretty, pink cunt. This is all mine.
I grind my fingers against her clit, and I find that she’s already wet for me. She cries out into my mouth, and I force a quick, brutal orgasm from her. Already, I know the exact way to touch her to make her come undone.
Her fingers bite into my upper arms, clinging to me as she greedily takes all of the pleasure I coax from her perfect body.
She whimpers, a pitiful plea for mercy that only enhances my cruel desire. Her clit is oversensitive from the ruthless treatment, but I’m not done with her yet.
I push two fingers into her tight sheath and stimulate her in the way she likes best. At the same time, I circle her clit with my thumb. My other hand tweaks her nipples, drawing out her pleasure with a fresh bite of pain.
