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“If you won’t strip and show me how fucking beautiful you are, then strip me down. Take off my pants. I know you want to. You want to know what kind of piercing I have. Admit it.”
She bites down on her lip and looks off to the side—a flash of insecurity—so I grip her chin and bring her attention back to me. “Don’t,” I say. “Don’t get lost in that head of yours. Stay present with me.” I tip her chin up. “Stay here…with me.”
“First…first thing I thought about…” I take a deep breath, his cock so stiff, so powerful that he steals my breath. “Was…how you…fuck me.” “How do I fuck you?” he asks, his hand tightening around the back of my neck now. “Like you own me.” He grunts. “Because I fucking do.”
“Holding information out of fear is the biggest form of miscommunication, but it’s also the most common. Every relationship, no matter how excellent you are at talking to your partner, experiences a form of miscommunication. It’s human nature. We become guarded, we don’t want to get hurt, we’re unsure of how the other person is going to respond, so we hold our cards close to our chest. We don’t tell the entire truth, which always hurts the relationship in the long run.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” “Yes, I do.” He stops and turns me toward him. “Look me in the eyes, and say you believe me.”
“So why did you get a tattoo and piercings?” “I think it was a way of dealing with my pain. If I marked myself up somewhere else, maybe I wouldn’t hurt as much inside.” “Did it help?” she asks. “No. Shocking revelation, you actually have to talk about your pain in order to heal. Can’t keep it all bottled inside.”
“Scottie, you don’t have to—” “Don’t tell me what I don’t have to do. I need your cock in my mouth.” Well, I’m not going to stop her when she says shit like that.
One of the reasons you’re in a marriage is to have a partner in life that you can do things with, that you can experience things with, you know? And if you don’t take the time to have those experiences, then what’s the goddamn point?”
“I don’t think there is ever a good time to be selfish,” I reply. “When it comes to your mental health, yeah, there’s always a good time to be selfish.
“It’s hope,” he says. “It’s debilitating, because when it doesn’t work out, you have to be the one that sits in that crushed hope and figure out how to swim your way out.
“I promise, I won’t hurt you, but I know actions speak louder than words, so I’m here to prove it.”
“If there’s one thing I don’t want you to ever experience again, it’s that feeling of insignificance. I’m in awe of you, and I know with certainty that I want to be a better man…for you. You deserve to be worshipped, so I’m going to prove that I can be the man who can do that.”
I know all the sports. Go, balls.”
“You really went out of your way to do all those things for me.” “Pips, I never went out of my way. It’s all things I wanted to do.”
You are everything I didn’t know I deserved.” “You’re everything I didn’t know I needed,”
