Jealousy Vs Possessiveness Novels & Stories

So I answer honestly. "At least three times." I smile and begin laughing. Then my body stills at the voice behind me. "Three?" Jackson speaks, then whistles. "Must be one hell of a guy. Or at least a well hung one." Even though it suddenly feels like my mouth has gone dry and my pussy is even wetter, I look at him over my shoulder. "Jealous?" He smirks. "Envious. Big difference." "What's the difference?" "Jealous means I want what the other person has without them losing it. Envious means I want to take it from them for myself."

Single. I feel no hot surge of jealousy. I dissect that emotion, as I have all others. Jealousy implies a fear of loss, a recognition that another’s claim might supersede your own. I do not fear. I assess. This man is not a threat to my possession; he is a new variable in my equation. The question is one of application. How best to utilize him?

His cock inside her pussy while she moans his name, while she gives him everything she won't give anyone else. The jealousy is so intense it's almost physically painful. It sits in his chest like a weight, pressing down, making it hard to breathe. He knows what the controlling one is like, knows his reputation, demanding and possessive. The kind of man who takes what he wants and doesn't apologize for it and Isabel responds to that. He's seen it in the way she looks at him during their meetings because he is always around and always close. The way her breath catches when he gets too close.

“Jealous?” “What? Of course not!” I exclaimed. “Why would I have a problem with that? It’s just… preference.” “It’s called being possessive,” he corrected me. “That’s what mates are with each other. That’s why you have a problem. It’s flattering.” “Flattering?” I asked in disbelief, noticing the satisfied smile on his face, which annoyed me. “Or maybe it’s because every time we’re together from now on, who’s to say you won’t start comparing me to the many she-wolves you’ve been with? Or sneak out to be with one of them?”

Does he really care for me? Sometimes I'm thinking out of my ass… and it's all because of this guy. I am being a mean woman. Athena, what is not clear about what El said? He already owns you so it's only natural that he will feel envious to whoever man you are cheering. No, not envious, it was jealousy! He was jealous to Darrell! How dare him to get jealous without a bit feeling to me! Jealous and envy. Those two words are different. Envy is something you do not have and see in others. You want to get it from him. Jealousy is something you already have but afraid of someone take it from you.

“She’ll realize how awful I can be and I’m afraid she’ll choose to run away.” He faltered in a way that made my chest twist. Jealousy and possessiveness trace their lines under the skin; you don’t have to shout they’re there, their edges are subtle, a hand held too long, a possessive word masked as concern. I’d seen it in Lucian: the tiny, hot flare when someone else offered her a cup, the locked jaw when she smiled at another man. He wouldn’t say it; he’d never own that the thought of someone else near her woke him. But in the quieter shades, you can see the lock click. “You think she’ll run?” I asked. My voice was even. “Or you want her to stay because you need her to fix you?”

I didn't know what to do so I hugged him back by wrapping my hands around his back and patted him. He lifted his head and looked up at me and said, "Why does one feel jealous?" Why did he ask me about this all of a sudden? "Everyone thinks jealousy is similar to being possessive but it's not, instead it is more similar to getting scared of losing the person we like."

She picked up her phone, contemplated for a moment, and sent a message to Wendy. "Do you think the more a man loves a woman, the more possessive he gets?" Just like Liam now, who seemed to be showing jealousy even though she was just a substitute for Sophia. Wendy replied almost instantly, “Of course! Isn't that obvious? Possessiveness and love go hand in hand! He’s absolutely madly in love!”

"The Goddess gives each wolf one mate. One. Not three. When bonds are shared like this, it creates imbalance." "We didn't choose this." "Maybe not. But you can choose what you do about it." Looking at her, I asked, "What are you saying?" "I'm saying your jealousy isn't weakness. It's instinct. Your possessiveness isn't wrong. Have you thought about the future? Really thought about it? Children. When she gets pregnant—and she will—whose child will it be?" The question hit hard. I hadn't let myself think about it. Hadn't let myself imagine—

“He could have helped you without marrying you. He didn’t need to put a ring on your finger. How dare another man claim what belonged to me?” I parted my lips to argue, to scream, and to remind him that he had lost the right to say anything about my life but the words died in my throat. Because he meant it. There was no exaggeration in his tone. No anger just for show. This wasn’t pride speaking. This was something deeper, something raw, ugly, and possessive. Gods, how could a person be so jealous that even death wasn’t enough? How could he want to kill a man who was already gone?