GENEVIEVEJealousy, in all its turmoil and torment, can be a catalyst for growth and transformation. When we confront the green-eyed monster that lurks within, we embark on a journey of self-discovery, ultimately leading to a deeper understanding of ourselves and our relationships.In the face of jealousy, communication becomes a lifeline. Honest and open conversations with our partners are the bridge that connects our hearts and minds, allowing us to share our insecurities and fears. Through this vulnerability, we create a space for trust to flourish, and we strengthen the bonds that hold our relationships together.It is in these moments of candid conversation that we learn about the inner workings of our loved ones. We discover the reasons behind their actions, the motivations behind their choices, and the depth of their commitment. It's a chance to understand that we are not in competition with others for their affections, but rather, we are unique individuals who complement and c
He wraps his arms around me. “I have got you.”I hug him back. “Now I am feeling like I am using you.”“I am the one who’s using you so that you will give me a permanent job when you own W&S.”I push back, laughing. “They’ll be lucky to have you.”“I am holding you to that.” He ruffles my hair before he hops on his bike. The sound of the revving engine echoes in the air as he leaves, and I remain there, waving, until he disappears out of sight.Then I tiptoe to the entrance because Dad will totally have my ass for being late and riding on a bike.My shoulders hunch when I open the front door.Right. Dad is not here anymore. I think I am still in denial about it all, because every day, I wake up thinking I’ll find him in the kitchen or that he’ll be banging on my door, telling me I am late for school.In my mind, my dad’s still here. He’ll come back, because that is what dads do. They stay.They do not leave like moms do.My dad will not abandon me like she did.“What time is it?”I ju
GENEVIEVEravity seems to have left the building.Or maybe it is my sanity.Maybe it is both.Because I do not feel either of them—neither gravity nor my sanity. I am floating on air and unable to land.Or more accurately, I am floating on Dan’s shoulder. His broad shoulder that I have always looked at and might have dreamt about touching it, but not with my stomach. I wasn’t that crazy.Apparently, I am now, though, because that is all I can think about—my stomach on his shoulder. Okay, that is a lie. I am thinking about a lot of things, like how his strong arm is looped around my calves and the way my head is hitting his powerful back with each step up the stairs.He’s carrying me like I am a weightless feather. The effortlessness of the act does things to me. His strength. His brutishness. His domination.All of it.And I soak it in, allow it to tear me open and seep inside me. Is not that what masochists do? Not only do we seek the pain, but we also wallow in it and allow it to gr
DANIELmistake.That is what it should be.Every second from the moment she walked inside and I lost my fucking cool to when she detoDand in my hold as if she’s waited her entire life for me to come along.As if she’s been saving up for me, for the moment she’d explode all around me, strangle my fingers, and refuse to let them go.And it all started with when I saw her hopping off the kid’s motorcycle. Her lips were red and her hair was blown by the wind and she was smiling. Wide.I should’ve looked the other way and kept my distance, as usual—that is what I have done ever since I moved in. I make sure she has everything she needs from afar. Like her stock of vanilla ice cream, her milkshakes—vanilla again—and her favorite fruit, bananas, just because there is not a version of vanilla fruit.Martha has specific orders to let me know when those things run out so one of us can take care of getting more.It is all because of Krew, I told myself. If it were him, he would’ve made sure she
GENEVIEVEe’ll teach me how to behave.That is what he said. That is what I heard, and yet I still can not believe it.I can not believe a lot of things since last night.When I woke up this morning, I thought maybe, just maybe, it was all a dream and I was still stuck in it, but then I smelled him. Those notes of spice and woods lingered on my sheets and on me long after he left my bedroom.So it couldn’t have been a dream, because Dan never goes into my room. Never.Oh, and my panties were missing. Yup. I slept all night without underwear and kept rubbing my thighs together in a desperate attempt to recreate the friction but failed miserably.So I left early this morning because I did not know what would happen if I saw him hovering over me at breakfast. That is what he does sometimes since he moved in. He hovers, leaning against the counter with his legs crossed at the ankles and drinking from his coffee until he makes sure I have eaten something. Because apparently, drinking my mi
“Uh-huh. Because you made me want to be a woman.”“You wanted to be a woman for me?”“Yeah.”“Why?”“Because you had touch me. You had want me.”“That means these nipples belong to me, do not they?” He squeezes one roughly, sternly, and I whimper, but it breaks into a moan when he cups my core just as hard. “This pussy is mine, too. It is my pussy, is not it?”“Oh, fuck…”“Language.”“Mmm.”“Answer me, Genevieve. Whose pussy is this?”“Yours.”“That is right. Mine. So why did you give it to someone else? Why did another fucker look at my pussy, let alone touch it?”God. If he keeps talking this dirty, I might come here and now.“Because you weren’t there…you weren’t touching me, so I had to let the boys do it, but you know what?”“What?” He’s pulling my panties down my legs, and I do not focus on the trail of wetness that is coating my thighs. I do not focus on how shamelessly I am drenching his fingers, because I am preoccupied with something else.His face holds me hostage. His beau
DANIEL’ve never been one to play games.They are a waste of time and lack purpose— something that fools do to feel cunning or important. That type of affirmation means absolutely nothing to me.If anything, I am the one who makes the games and sets the rules that everyone needs to follow.So imagine my fucking surprise when I find myself dragged into a game I did not sign up for. A game that should not have existed in the first place.I am in the middle of it now. Right there where the game— Genevieve—is.You can play with me all you want. I’ll be your toy.Those mere words turned me into a fucking insatiable beast. I did not only win her in the middle of the game, but I also had every right to play with her, torture her, torment her.A week now. It is been a week since the day I broke my own protocol and brought sex to my workplace. When I ate her out and tasted her sweet cunt.I do not mix business with pleasure. Ever. It is unprofessional, bother
“Because…because she’s mean.”“Has she been mean to you?”“She does not even talk to me.”“Exactly. So why do you think she’s mean?”“Everyone at W&S thinks she is.”“I am not going to dig into everyone’s reason for thinking that. I am asking about yours.”“Well…Dad hates her.”“You are not your dad, Genevieve.”“Whoever Dad hates, I hate. It is that simple. We’re one like that.”“Is that why you have not visited him in a week?”She jolts at that, her lips clamping shut. So, I was right. She’s been avoiding him or her feelings about what happened to him.Silence stretches between us for long moments and only the sound of the boiling water can be heard in the air.She clinks her nails in that fast, manic way that betrays her inner turmoil.“Answer me, Genevieve.”“I…just got busy with the internship. I’ll do it later.”“Later when? Tomorrow? Next week?”“Just later.” She turns to leave, probably to go hide in the nearest closet.“Stop.”She flinches, her nails still clinking together,