Page 52 of Love Me

Her eyebrows knit. I guess her vandalism backfired.

“It has a feminine touch.”

“I’m quite anchored in my masculinity, so…”

She squints at me as I reach her.

“I would have informed you, but I don’t have your phone number…”

“Ah, fishing for it?”

To bait me, because she loves to drive me crazy, she plucks her phone out of her bag and waves it at me.

She leans into me. “Hmm, you don’t deserve it.”

I wrap my hand around her neck, caressing her flickering pulse.

“I could fuck you right here, and you’d let me because that’s how bad you want me, how mad you are about me.”

“You’re a damn cancer eating at my insides.”

“One of these days, I’m going to spread you on my hood, eat you out until my jaw gets sore, and take you like you want me to—hard, rough, and unapologetic.”

Goose bumps erupt on her neck, and I use her dazed expression to snatch her phone, then hold it in front of her face, unlocking the screen. She shakes herself off and kicks me in my shoulder.

“One day, it’ll be payback time. I’m going to stuff you full with my cock and have no mercy while pounding you raw.”

She remains silent, imagining just that from the lustful haze crossing her eyes.

I call my number, and she says, “I’ll block you.”

I know she wants to, but she won’t because she is as sick as I am.

“No, because you don’t want to miss my messages.”

With that, I sidestep her and hop into my car, staring at her round ass. I am dying to get my hands on it and bite into her cheeks until I leave my mark. Oh, you will be mine again, even this version of you. Everything of you has always been mine. You belong to me, and nothing in this world can change that.

I roll down the window and slap her ass. She shrieks, but before she can react, I drive away, looking in the rearview mirror at her as she shouts profanities at me.

Not even a few minutes after I walk in, she blares through the front door of our house, contradicting herself.

“You’re… You know what? I’m done giving you what you want.”

“You haven’t even started giving me what I want from you.”

She juts her nose up and goes into the kitchen. I follow her, watching her make herself a bowl of yogurt with various fruits and nuts. Stealing her spoon, I take a bite, licking my lips.

Her retort dies on her lips when my stomach grumbles.

She shoves the bowl in my hand and prepares another one.

Her gesture fills my chest with warmth. This is what I missed. A bit of care, and now that I’ve seen it, my knees threaten to give out on me.

“Getting soft on me all because of a snack? You must be starved for love.”

“Why do you ruin every fucking moment we have, Celine?”

Forgetting my hunger and my good mood, I storm away, leaving the uneaten bowl. She’s right. I am used to starving.

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