Page 55 of Call You Mine

I shake my head, unable to accept it and do the only thing I know to do in a situation like this. A situation where my emotions are raw, taking over all sense of reasoning. I deflect, using my body, my sexuality as an escape, a tool of deflection when things get too overwhelmingly real.

Leaning my head back against the headboard, I let my legs fall open, his eyes immediately dropping to the thin piece of lace between my legs—the only thing shielding my arousal from him. Starting at the top, I insert two fingers into my mouth, sucking them and wetting them, his eyes never leaving mine.

Without a word I slowly reach down between my legs, my left hand cupping my breast as I push my fingers under the lace thong and glide them through my arousal.

A soft moan leaves my lips at the contact of my fingers against my sensitive and aching lips, my back arching off the pillows behind me.

“If you refuse to give me what I need, I’ll have to look elsewhere for it,” I tell him, my tone breathless and coated in seduction. “You can’t expect me to go months without the touch of a man. I’ve gone too long without it, I refuse to wait any longer.”

The man stands completely frozen, his dark gaze locked on mine, refusing to give me any sign of emotion. I can see his chest rising and falling in quick rhythms, his jaw clenched as tight as the fists at his side. But he doesn't say or do a damn thing.

It only pushes me further, egging me on to make him break his resolve and take me. To make me his. Throwing my head back against the headboard, I quicken my movements, sliding my fingers back and forth and applying pressure against my clit. My other hand continues to knead my breast as breathy moans continue to leave me. My legs fall open wider, as I inserttwo fingers inside me, fucking myself, pretending it’s him who’s touching me.

“Damon, please,” I moan, begging him to give me what I need. This isn’t enough, the feel of my fingers inside me nothing compared to what he would feel like. I haven’t had sex in over three years, not since him, since that drunken night we had at a party. I couldn’t. Not with Luke, or anyone else. Especially not with Enzo, who thankfully I wasn’t his type.

My fingers were the only thing to bring me solace on the endlessly lonely nights I lived away from him. Visions of him in my mind, on his knees for me, his body caging me in, making me feel wanted. I’d never felt that way with anyone else and I hated myself for allowing him so much power over me but I knew it would never be the same with anyone else. It would never feel so good if it wasn’t him.

Yet here I am, fucking myself in front of him and he doesn’t give a shit.

Tears prickle my eyes at the realization that I’m making a fool of myself in front of a man who doesn’t want me. Me, Wynter Servite—the stone-cold bitch, the ice princess, a condescending rich girl—am making a fool of myself for a man who refuses to admit he has feelings for me. Because I know he does. There's no denying our connection, but apparently my lies and reluctance to let him in for more than just a second, are too big to let go.

Call me selfish to want him to give me all of him when I refuse to do the same but there’s one big difference between the two. He wasn’t forced to marry a monster out of fear for his life. He wasn’t living in fear for three years, unable to talk to anyone outside of the walls of his prison.

I don’t owe him anything just because he’s doing me a favor. If I wanted to, I could leave, hide out anywhere else in the world but I’m choosing to stay here with him because I want to.Because I refuse to let him act like he doesn’t want the same thing.

I’ve spent too long hiding away from what I truly want. I won’t let him do the same.

But tonight, tonight the embarrassment is too strong.

Pulling my fingers out, I push off the bed to stand, rushing around him to the door. The worst part is he lets me. I slam the door shut before falling to the ground on the other side. Dropping my head in my hands, I let out a silent scream, tears falling down my cheeks as I try my hardest to breathe.

Shame consumes me. All I went through to get him to notice me. The photoshoot, the framed pictures, the lingerie, putting myself out there for him to reject—it’s all too much.

Minutes later the door opens, and I nearly fall back into the room but he’s there, crouched behind me. Cradling me into his arms he lifts me, carrying me over to his bed. I dig my face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his delicious scent.

He sets me down on the bed but I don’t let go, my arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “Wyn, please” he murmurs in a painful tone I’ve never heard before. I lift my head to look at him, finding an equally tormented look in his eyes as he takes in my appearance. Red-rimmed eyes, surely puffy from the tears that escaped them, mascara smeared along the edges.

“Just one night, Damon. Please, I just need you tonight.”

“One night won’t ever be enough, baby. You know that. And I can’t go there when there’s so many secrets between us.”

“Why? It’s never been an issue before.”

“This isn’t like before, Princess. You can feel it, I can feel it. Things will never again be the same between us. But this time, we have to do it right, and that means putting it all out there. Both of us. Until you’re ready to do that, I’ll be here for you, every step of the way. But please understand, after everything that’s happened…” He pauses and I understand what he’s failingto say with words. After the betrayal he’s faced in the past, he can’t go through it again. “I can’t live without knowing the truth. When you’re ready baby, I’ll be here. But until then…” He kisses me softly, his lips tasting the tears on mine. “This is all I can give you.”

We lay together silently for what feels like hours. The way he holds me in his arms, my head resting against his chest as it rises and falls with steady breaths. I fear he’s fallen asleep but I can still feel the tension in his body as his arm wraps around my body, his hand resting against my hip. It takes everything in me to not break down, to hold back the tears that ache to flow out like a broken dam, destroying everything in its path as it freaked havoc. Despite everything, I can understand where he's coming from but I can't accept that is our fate.

Gathering the courage to continue fighting for what I want, I run my fingers over his now bare chest.

“What if it’s not enough,” I croak out, trying to mask the worry in my voice.

“Wynter,” he pleads, and I can hear the sorrow in his tone. He’s begging me not to push, not to force his hand. It’s selfish of me to want this so badly when he’s got every right to deny me. In the one being dishonest, I’m the one lying to him and hiding more than I care to admit. Yet here I am asking him to give me everything I don’t deserve. If our roles were reversed, I wouldn’t give up until he was honest with me. I would fight the urge because I know I wouldn’t be able to give him all of me if I didn’t trust him.

But is it really that horrible of a sin to lie, to betray, to deceive when the alternative is so much worse. Discovering the truth wouldn’t just wreck him, it would completely and devastatingly destroy him. Destroy us. I’m not willing to take that chance. This isn’t a game, it’s a dangerous war that I’ve been fighting, one Iwas forced into and I won’t be the one to pull him in deeper and deposit him in the devil's clutches.

So he can hate me all he wants, but I can’t lose him.

“Damon, please. I need to feel wanted, desired. It’s been so long since I’ve felt worthy of anything. Years of living a lie, of feeling like I’m worthless. Your denial only cements that.” I push aside his worry and creep closer to me, feeling his erection against my core.

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