She left them on again, thinking her defiance was cute.
I left them on.
Through the party.
Through the after party.
She got the point the fabric was a bad decision.
This was where her defiance hurt. Where I pressed until I could feel an apology seeping out. Her body weeping from games her brain likes to play. The airy near fuck broke her four times, each of them raising her hunger for a real release.
Still, I left them on.
Soaked and disheveled.
Then bargaining. Then pleading. Then quiet anger. Then resignation.
She said sometimes she hates me.
I laughed and told her we both know that isn’t true.
What she hates is that I didn’t pull these off her hours ago.