Tell Me What You Want Novels & Stories

“What do you want?” I breathed deeply and pulled my thoughts in a sensible line before I replied to him. “If we are going to do this .. whatever this is.. I want you to be considerate of what I’d do and what I won’t. I can’t do things that would make me feel uncomfortable. And you can’t force me to do them.”

She took a deep breath and asked, “Why are you telling me this? What do you want me to do?” Teddy said, “I want you to come and live with me.”

My brain decided to stop functioning at this time. And he might've sensed it because he suddenly spoke. “What do you want, Ai?” But I still don't know how to comprehend what I really want. “I…” I want you. But with no strings attached. How can I ever say that? “Ai?” Am I being crazy? “Like what I told you, you can use me all you want, Ai,” he whispered. Damn it.

“Tell me what you want, Leila.” “You.” I begged.

He asked it like he meant it. What do I want? If I told him the truth… would he actually listen? “If I tell you,” I ask cautiously, “will you make it happen?” He doesn’t flinch. “Tell me what you want.” I lean back slightly, exhaling. “Fine,” I say, the corner of my mouth twitching. “I want a million dollars.”

“I want to taste you… please?” “Yes, baby. Do what you want.”

“Because I don’t know what I want. I want you to ask me what I want, and I want to tell you what I want, but I DONT KNOW WHAT I want.” “With what?” “Everything! I don’t know what I want to wear tomorrow, I don’t know where I want to sleep, or where I want YOU to sleep, I don’t know if I want to go talk to Fin again to try and get more information, I don’t know if I want different furniture in here...” Whoa! Okay, well, that’s a lot to take in, but I have to stop her and get her to focus a little. “Al, sweetheart, look at me”

“What do you want?” He leans back slightly, a contemplative look crossing his face. “I want a life with you. Whatever that looks like. If it means kids, then I’m all in. If it means no marriage, that’s fine too. I just… I want to build something real with you. Something that lasts.”

After a long moment, I said, "What do you want me to do? Sit around and stare at walls?" "No." His voice was gentle. "I want you to figure out what you actually want. Not what needs doing. Not what's expected. What you want. For yourself. For your life. For—" He gestured vaguely. "Whatever comes next." I stared at him. No one had ever asked me that. Not really. My father asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, but that was different—that was about achievement, ambition, legacy. Scott asked what I wanted for dinner, for vacations, for our anniversary. But what I actually wanted, deep down, for myself?

I smiled at her answer as I said, "That's very good to hear, honey. You're always very adept at pleasing me. You're so attentive to my needs and desires, but I want to know about your needs and desires, honey. I want you to tell me what you want and need. What turns you on? What turns you off? What do you fantasize about? What sickens you? What would you like to try? What would make you cry out in orgasm and squirt your juices everywhere?"