no control

• forty eight •

elijah

"You think?" I challenged her.

My angel blinked up at me through her big, doe-shaped hazel eyes. Her lips parted in surprise.

Leaning down, I stole another breath-taking kiss from her sweet mouth. I tweaked her nipple between two fingers and earned a small cry from her. My cock was already turning stiff again.

"Eli," she whined.

"Tell me," I said, leaning over her so I could peer directly down into her eyes. "Do you love me or not?"

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. As it tugged free, the pink skin was glossy with her saliva. I stared helplessly at them.

"You know I do," she whispered.

My hand rubbed circles into her hip. We stared at each other without looking away, the air thick between us.

"I have known for a while now," I told her. "The way you look at me . . . the way you touch me . . ."

I rubbed my hand over the top of her thigh before tracing down to her warmth. Her curls tickled at my fingertips.

I strummed my fingers through her slippery folds. Some of my cum leaked out and saturated her.

I brought my wet hand to my nose and inhaled the mixture of smells. Then I brushed my fingers against her lips, coating them in our fluids.

My eyes shifted from her mouth back to her eyes. I could see the question and fear in them, dimming their usual radiance.

"Come," I said, pulling away. "Let's take a shower."

She didn't budge, though. Not even when I slid off the bed and extended my hand toward her. Her face filled with hurt.

"Don't make assumptions, princess," I chided her. "Come with me."

"No," she snipped. "I don't want to."

I leaned the fronts of my quadriceps into the bed and leaned over to grab her by the waist. I dragged her to the edge of the bed.

"No!" She flailed her arms around. "Eli, no!"

I stopped dragging her but didn't move my hands. My eyes bore down into her face. Her gaze flicked anywhere but mine.

"Look at me," I said.

Her jaw ticked before she finally looked at me. I hated seeing pain in her eyes. I hated knowing I was the cause of it.

"Do not be afraid," I told her. "You know the depth I will go to take care of you."

She sucked in a sharp breath as though I'd slapped her. I pulled away, worried I somehow physically hurt her.

"That doesn't mean you love me, Elijah," she said. Her brows furrowed. "Do you not know if you love me, or are you just afraid to admit it?"

My lips pressed into a line. I wanted to be honest with her but I didn't know the truth in this situation. I knew what I was emotionally capable of.

Whether I didn't allow myself to feel or simply couldn't after years of shutting them down, I didn't know. I only knew that there was a wall ten miles deep around my metaphorical heart.

Love requires empathy, of which I am incapable of expressing.

But I knew I would kill for this girl. I would do whatever it took to have her as mine.

The thought of her doing anything else or being with anyone else made me blind with rage.

"Either way," I told her, "you belong to me."