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Chapter 29

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Here's the agenda for tonight:

Jake's coming over.

I'm making a marvelous dinner, like the talented bad bitch that I am.

Then, I'm ending things.

That's right.

This professional psychologist has goals, and I'm done letting a man with a wonderful penis exploit me into giving them up. And for what? Because he's an insecure caveman, jealous of the concept of me being at a bar with another male.

As if I can't contain myself around the opposite gender.

How insulting.

Seriously, how insulting.

Anyway, we're having chicken pasta. My Pinterest recipe board had this delicious creation saved for years, but my unskilled and lazy ass was too scared to make it.

But I need to show some civil gratitude for the idiotic sacrifice he was willing to make today, and if my body is no longer going to be available for services, I figure he should at least have a nice meal.

So, let's put on a black dress and get started.

~

Yeah, I ended up ordering pizza.

I tried, I really did. But apparently chicken is complicated, pasta is high maintenance, and once again I'm reminded of why I avoid such time-consuming tasks.

Plus, I was craving a pepperoni and mushroom pizza with jalapeños.

I light the candles in the living room and set New Girl on Netflix, because Nick and Jess's chemistry puts me in a sassy mood. I'm going to need the power to carry through the night.

I'm certain there's actual feelings beneath this exterior, but I'm in no capacity to address them. For now, I'll just focus on his unwelcome possessiveness, poor emotional regulation, and lack of commitment to goals.

Knocking at the front door indicates his arrival, and my pulse flies through the roof. A part of me considers smoking weed, but I don't need to be reminded of my own weaknesses.

That is until I open the door and stifle a whimper.

It's unfair. So unfair. The way he looks, and the way he looks at me.

A black henley on his solid frame, hugging his shoulders and biceps. Sleeves rolled up, forearms on display with veins and virility. Olive skin golden from hours of labor outside. Hazel eyes smoldering with knee-weakening warmth.

"Are you going to invite me in or...." he asks with an edge of amusement.

I shut my mouth and move aside. My body tingles from his heat as he passes; nervous anticipation coils from his sure-footed steps on the wooden floor.

Wait a second, I'm supposed to be mad at him.

"I'm mad at you."

He turns, eyebrows raised for a second before he lowers his head. "I know..."

I know?  How am I supposed to be upset and end things if—

"Why are you being so soft?" I scowl, crossing my arms.

He looks confused. "What?"

"You're being all..." I circle him like a zoo animal. "Gentle and submissive."

"Excuse me?" His eyebrows knit further.

I sigh, rolling my eyes. "Do you have anything else to contribute to this conversation besides being confused?"

He closes his mouth into a thin, suppressed line, eyes darkening.

My pulse quickens at his changed demeanor, threatening to crack my walls.

"Uh-uh." I shake my head, hand on my hip. "Don't even think anything funny. You're here so we can end things."

He lifts an eyebrow. "End things..."

"Yes, I'm done. This is dangerous and stupid, and you clearly have no boundaries. So...we're going to have pizza, uh, cause I fucked up dinner. Then...we'll plan how to go through the rest of the quarter, and...then you can leave."

He blinks, expression unreadable — maybe waiting, contemplating, I can't tell. His head shakes subtly side to side, eyes not leaving mine.

"You... continue your silent brooding." I step back, motioning at him. "I'm just going to go get the food."

The fluorescent lights of the kitchen offer a sliver of sobering sense. I walk up to the countertop where the pizza boxes are — right next to the overcooked chicken and undercooked pasta. Take two glasses from the cabinet with dinner plates and right as I'm about to go back to the living room, Jake walks in.

My breath hitches at the way his eyes fixate on me, study me. He lowers his gaze to my chest where the blush gives me away.

He steps closer and occupies my space, takes the plates and glasses, sets them down. I frown, but he ignores me, grabs my hips and lifts me onto the counter.

His lips take mine, soft yet demanding, and I hold my breath to not melt, to not dissolve into the feeling of how much I missed him. How much I need him.

"It's not going to work." I push against his chest.

Amusement glints beneath his silk lashes. He pins my hands behind my back and kisses me again. My tiny whimper escapes and slips into his lips; he hums and deepens the kiss.

The force of the kiss pushes my head back, hitting it against the cabinet. The pain jolts me a little, but spreads like fire over my skin, burning my resistance into ashes.

Until he protectively palms where I hit my head, pissing me off again.

"Do you want to bubble wrap me too?" I snap, looking at him coldly. "Do I look like a delicate flower to you?"

He's rendered speechless for a moment. "What's gotten into you?"

"Me? You're the one that got jealous and almost dropped my class!"

"And?"

"And? And you had no right!"

"No right to what? Have a problem with the most beautiful woman, being at a bar with another man? You think I'm just going to tell you 'have fun' and not be bothered?" His hands let go of my wrists, move up my hips, and rest at my waist. "You're mine, and I don't share."

I scoff. "If I wanted to be owned, I would've stayed in my home country and had ten kids by now. Get with the times."

"I don't care about other people, this is who I am." He kisses around my mouth, my jawline, under my ear, the slope of my neck. "I don't want anyone to think of you in ways that's only meant for me."

"That's not something you can control..." I try to sound firm, but my eyes close and my neck arches back.

"I don't care," he murmurs, tightening his hold on my waist, making me stifle a whimper. "And I'll drop your class if it means you'll stop worrying."

"I'll never forgive you if you do..." I fist his shirt in both hands, voice sad.

"And why is that?"

My throat constricts, thoughts running in circles. "Because it won't change anything."

He pulls back to look at me. "I told you the first night we met, you've never had someone strong enough for you. So you can keep pushing..." He slides his hand under my dress, up my inner thighs and inside my panties. My mouth opens with a gasp as he presses two fingers. "But I know how you feel, and I'm not going anywhere."

I clench my thighs with half-hearted resistance, holding his forearm between my legs. "Don't confuse sexual attraction with something else..."

"You wouldn't risk your job for sexual attraction." He crashes his lips on mine and circles the pads of his fingers. Slowly, firmly, precisely. I moan into his mouth and he groans. "Your body...your little moans...they're mine...and they'll always be mine."

"So you're a possessive sex addict." I smirk against his lips. "That still doesn't explain your incompetence over dropping my class."

"My incompetence, huh?" His other hand reaches for my hair and exposes my neck as his fingers tease. He leaves slow, wet kisses across. I bite my lip to silence my sounds. "What happened to that smart mouth of yours?"

"I got bored of your shitty comebacks..."

He looks at me with feigned concern and cooes. "Oh, I'm sorry. Are you bored?"

Then he steps back and yanks my hair forward, making me yelp from the pain as I'm dragged off the counter.

He spins me around, pushing my stomach against the edge of the counter and bends me down. He slaps the lights off and darkness takes over.

My erratic breaths fill the silence while his hands grip the back of my dress and rip the top open, pulling it off my shoulders.

"Asshole, I really liked this dress..." I glare at him over my shoulder.

He slides it off my body and drops it by my feet. "I'll buy you a hundred more."

"As if I'll take your money—"

I'm silenced with a smack on my ass. The sharpness stings and I cry out as tingling heat builds between my legs, spreading through every nerve.

"Are you going to keep talking?" He smacks the other side as I hold onto the counter.

I should be scared, or at least be a little bit intimidated. But something's wrong with my twisted brain, and instead I giggle.

Then I giggle at my own audacity to giggle and at the fact that he's probably so pissed off about it.

He fists my hair and turns me around, stern expression intensified in the moonlight. He forces me down on my knees and unbuckles his belt with his other hand. The leather slides off and drops on the floor. My hands go up to assist—

"Take your hands off of me." He warns and fists my hair tighter, making me wince.

He slides his zipper down and pulls my face forward. I stumble to steady myself, stretching my mouth to take him in. He releases a slow, rugged breath. "There you go, see how much better it is when you're not talking?"

I glare and roll my eyes, but he pushes in deeper and makes me choke. My eyes water and I grasp his thighs, but he lightly slaps my face. "Hands off..."

I whimper and clench my thighs together. Heat coils between them, curls in my abdomen, rises up my spine, clouds my mind with a lustful high.

"Fuck..." he mutters quietly, head rolling back. I moan at how I affect him.

I silently beg him to let me take over and he lets go of my hair, strokes the side of my face with his large palm. I wrap my hands around him and work my mouth on the rest, swirling my tongue, sliding my hands in sync. He groans, eyebrows furrowed and his mouth parted as he looks down.

"You don't look so bored now..." he mocks, lips pulling up in one corner.

I sink my teeth into him, making him hiss with a low chuckle. His fingers find my hair and slowly wrap around in a ponytail, causing every inch of me to rise with excitement.

He jolts me forward and slams into the back of my throat, holds me there as I struggle to breathe. My hands fly to his thighs and I dig my claws into his skin, but to no avail. He just lowers his other hand inside my bra, pulling and pinching until I'm nothing but a pile of limbs at his feet.

He pulls me back and I gasp for air, then bends down and picks me up, wrapping me around his waist to kiss me tenderly. I throw my arms around his neck, whimpering with shaking breaths, shivering as he soothes me.

He grips himself and suddenly taps against my core, making me flinch.

"Beg for it," he murmurs, voice heavy but still in control.

"You wish..." I gasp, gripping the back of his hair as I look into his eyes.

He stares back calmly, and without warning, pushes in a little, smirking when I cry out.

"I said... beg for it," he pulls out and strokes himself against me, drenching himself in my arousal before striking again, driving me insane.

"Please," I growl, glaring before capturing his mouth and biting on his lip.

"Please what?" he teases, enjoying my frustration.

"Please, sir." I give in, weakening in his hold and muffling my moan into the crook of his neck as he torments again.

"That's what I thought." He rewards me with another thrust and this time doesn't stop.

~A/N~

Ya'll...I have no idea what to say. They're crazy.

Is it just me, or did this seem like a love confession, in a way?

Please don't forget to vote if you liked it!