Verity:

I had met up with him thinking I had nailed it, that I had agitated him enough to pull him away from his date and focus on me.

But the moment we met, it became impossible for me to keep pushing him away.

That was the plan. I wanted him to know that this time, I was not going to let him get away with it.

He would have to take drastic measures.

But I just could not do it.

The way he leaned over me, the way his fingers played with my tits, my body began to heat up. He was so close.

His lips would part and then brush against my ear as he breathed directly into it, while his thumb continued to play with my nipple as if it belonged to him.

I kept reminding myself that, at some point, I needed to push him away.

I had to stop him so that he would take bigger measures for me, but I just could not do it.

Then he pulled away on his own, and I thought maybe it was over.

However, instead of covering my nipple like he had initially made it seem he would, he looked down at my breasts, making me glance down as well.

I watched as two of his fingers slowly and deliberately pushed the fabric aside, exposing my nipple.

He did it gently with his large, muscular fingers.

Once my nipple and areola were fully exposed to his view, he lowered his head and pressed his lips against my nipple.

"You," he uttered, pulling back for a moment before lowering his head again and placing another kiss on my nipple.

"Are supposed to..."

He paused again before looking down and taking my nipple into his mouth.

He sucked on it softly, as though it were something fragile. Then he released it, leaving it erect.

"Expose your tits for only me," he added before groaning in pleasure and taking it into his mouth again.

"This," he said as he popped the nipple out of his mouth, then stuck out his tongue and lowered it until my nipple was almost touching the back of it.

He slowly flicked it, sending my nipple upward.

Then he flicked my tit a few times with the tip of his finger before adding, "And this."

As soon as he said that, I noticed his hand move up beneath my dress so quickly that it was suddenly between my legs, holding my pussy in his hand.

His grip was tight, so firm that it felt as if he could burn my vagina with a single touch.

He grasped my pussy in his fist.

"This is mine," he said, giving it a rough shake that made my breath hitch.

The possessive motion sent a shiver through me.

"You’re not supposed to give it to anyone else," he continued, his eyes locked on mine as his grip tightened around my pussy.

Then, while looking into my eyes, he started to slide his hand beneath my panties.

At that point, I realized I had to stop him. He could not ignore me, choose Gigi over me, and then come back and touch me whenever he wanted.

The moment I slapped his hand away, even he looked confused.

"I don’t like it," I said firmly.

He immediately pulled his hand away and leaned back.

"You can’t say those things," I continued, fixing my dress and quickly covering myself. I could tell he was stunned. He did not even know what to say.

"You come to me and say all those things as if I’m—" I paused. "A whore."

The moment those words left my mouth, he slammed his hand against the steering wheel, making me jolt.

"Don’t ever call yourself that. When have I ever made you feel that way? Have I ever disrespected you? Ever?"

It was the first time he had raised his voice at me.

Usually, the person I had become would have broken someone’s jaw for screaming at me.

But I wasn’t that naive Verity anymore.

My lips began to tremble as I looked down and wrapped my arms around myself.

"I didn’t mean to scream," he muttered.

Before he could say anything else, I quickly got out of the car.

"No, Verity, stop," he called, catching my hand and pulling me back.

"No. Let me go. You’re just like everybody else. Loud, controlling, and rude. You don’t respect me. You just see me as a stupid woman who’s lonely."

I hiccuped between words, struggling to get them out. With every accusation, I watched the concern on his face deepen.

"That’s not true. I respect you," he said, reaching over and gently cupping my cheek to make me look at him.

His thumb brushed lightly against my chin.

His hand was warm, and somehow it seemed to grow warmer with every passing second.

He still held my other wrist, preventing me from getting out of the car.

"No," I refused, shaking my head quickly. "Please let me go."

I shifted in my seat.

"Please get your hands off me. I don’t like it."

As I protested, he slowly released me once again.

But when I reached for the door, he leaned over and braced a hand against it, stopping me from opening it.

"Let me go," I insisted again.

This time, he was so close that I could see straight into his eyes.

"I didn’t mean to upset you. I called you here because I heard him speak—."

But I immediately shook my head.

"If you didn’t have anything better to do, you probably thought this lonely whore," I paused, hiccuping, "would be happy to put her body on display."

I sniffled and wiped the tears from my eyes.

"No, Verity, what are you saying? Please stop calling yourself that. You’re really making my heart ache when you say those things. Do you really think I would see you that way?"

The more I insulted myself, the more emotional he looked.

For the first time, I saw tears gathering in his eyes as they turned red.

I knew I had to hit him harder.