Possess, verb
To have and to hold as property.
I couldn’t stand the sight of her with another man for one more second.
Pulling up my tracksuit, I didn’t even pause to grab my keys or my phone on my way out, leaving the front door wide open. I took the steps two at a time, rushing so much I didn’t even have time to glance at the doorman on my way out. I stormed down the street and barged past the doorman in her building. The stairs made me breathe angrily, rage seeping through every pore of my body.
Fuck. No. Bebe was mine. No way was I letting anyone touch her. Never again. Never. Ever.
Her front door was unlocked, but I still opened it with my shoulder, the wood bumping into the wall, plaster falling down in a thick, dusty cloud.
“Get the fuck OFF!” I screamed as I made my way into the living room, my hands shaking.
I felt every vein in my body throbbing. Anger making me an ugly, deranged monster that cared about nothing else but my woman. I needed her in my arms. My mouth on her. My cock in her tight little cunt. My hands all over that sweet little body. Me, fucking me tasting that sugar. Nobody else. Never fucking EVER again.
My eyes locked with Bebe’s the second I walked into the room. She looked like hell and sex in that fucking outfit. Her eyes were red-rimmed and accusatory, and her mouth was trembling.
I went for the older guy first because I wanted to take my fucking time with the other prick.
My fist smashed into his face and I heard the sickening crunch of bone as the guy screamed.
“What the fuck,” he roared, while the younger dude only laughed, still fucking my girl.
I saw red. Not just a mist, I saw their fucking thick, dark blood spilling all over the floor. I wanted to kill, maim, hurt, torture. I wanted to rip their sorry dicks off and stuff them in each other’s mouths. My legs kept kicking, and my arms kept on punching with all the rage I had in my body. I heard Bebe’s screams and saw the blood pool under the guy.
Turning to the other one, I knew I’d wipe that smirk off his face for good. He was a prick, fucking enjoying this, loving that Bebe was hurting. But I couldn’t even look at her, too disgusted with myself to face her just yet. I was going to pay her back though, and I’d kill the two men for what they’d done to her.
My fists pummeled the guy against the wall. He put up a fight, but his punches landed on rock-hard abs and thick muscle throbbing with the need for revenge.
“Now you die,” I growled in his face, and kept on punching.
His blood sprayed my skin, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted him to understand suffering like he never had before. I kept punching, hitting, snarling, screaming. I beat him to a pulp until his nose was broken and his forehead bore a big red gash.
“Miles!”
I heard Bebe calling my name from afar, but I couldn’t break out of it. All I knew was pain, hurting, hurting, fucking hurting him until it stopped hurting me. I held the bastard against the wall with one hand gripped around his throat and punched the fucker until his teeth broke and he gargled his own blood.
“Miles, please, Miles, I love you, Miles, don’t, Miles, don’t baby, don’t…”
I dropped my hands and stumbled back, and heard the front door opening as the other prick ran outside. I watched the mess that used to be a man groan and sigh and cry out in pain, but I felt no fucking mercy for him. I’d seen the way he treated my girl and the moment I locked eyes with him I understood what he was. A deranged, damaged man just like me, but so different, so much more dangerous. He was a sick as fuck sociopath, who would’ve come back and hurt her when I wasn’t looking. I saw it from the glint in his eyes, a look I remembered from the last time I’d been in an institution. I saw the darkness and the pain, but whereas mine turned inward, his was angry, vengeful, and thirsty for the pain of others.
“You’re never coming back here,” I snarled at the bloody mess on the floor. “I never want to see you again, you worthless piece of shit.”
He stood up and his knees buckled as he grabbed his jacket.
“You’re a fucking psychopath,” he growled at me, and I stared him down until he stumbled out of Bebe’s apartment, wishing I’d kicked his ass out myself.
And then it was just us, and I couldn’t even look at her.
Couldn’t bear the thought of her being angry with me, of not understanding why I’d done this. And most of all, I couldn’t bear to think that maybe, just maybe, my Bebe had enjoyed it.
Because the jealousy would eat me up alive.
I heard it what felt like minutes after. The soft sound of sobs, of her crying like a little girl, so vulnerable, so fucking sweet it threatened to tear me in half. I was next to her in seconds, my arms wrapping around her shoulders as I held her, murmuring into her hair, trying to calm her down. All my fears of germs, of the unknown, were forgotten. All that mattered was the scared little girl in my embrace, shaking, trembling like a fucking leaf because of something I’d put her through. I’d never hated myself more than in that moment, but I also knew I had to help her before I started to worry about myself.
“Bebe,” I whispered into her hair. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
She started grasping at the fabric of my shirt between her little fingers, practically climbing on top of me in an effort to get closer. Her breaths were uneven and raspy, and she was still crying. For every tear that fell down her smooth cheeks, I hated myself a little bit more.
“Talk to me,” I begged her as she settled on my lap. “Just talk to me, Bebe, I’m begging you.”
She grabbed my chin with purpose and twisted my face towards her own. I shut my eyes tightly, still unable to look her in the eye.
“Look at me,” she got out, hiccuping through the tears.
I forced my eyes open and looked into hers. She was so painfully beautiful, innocent of everything my sick mind had accused her of. I hated myself for it, and I knew it would be a long time before I could forgive myself for what I’d put her through.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and she shook her head, swallowing tears. Biting back the pain. Just for me.
“Get it out of me,” she whispered, and I stared at her, trying to understand what she meant.
“What, sugar?” I asked her roughly. “Get what out?”
“The…” She swallowed thickly, looking so completely broken I felt my devastation to my core. “The cum. They fucked me, both of them. I feel d-dirty.”
I let go of her and punched a wall repeatedly. Once, twice, three times until the wall was sprayed with my blood and I groaned at the pain in my knuckles.
“Miles!” Bebe’s screams finally got to me, and I walked over to her with fast, angry steps.
She shrank away from me, but I grabbed her gently, pulling her into my lap and walking down the hallway. She sobbed against my chest, her arms wrapping around my neck in relief when she realized I wasn’t going to hurt her. Fucking shit, she really thought I could’ve done that. I was madly in love with her, and she thought I wanted to get her hurt. It was all my fucking fault.
When I finally found it, I walked into the bathroom, a beautiful room with white and mother of pearl tiles. I walked her into the huge shower and didn’t let go as I turned on the water above us. It came in a luxurious warm spray, making my clothes stick to my body and stopping Bebe’s naked body from shivering against me.
“It’s okay,” I whispered into her ear, water falling all over us. “It’s okay, sugar.”
I kneeled with her in my arms and let her down gently on the tile. She sobbed softly as I let the water rain on us.
“Open your legs,” I whispered, and she let her legs fall open lifelessly like she was nothing but a doll following instructions now.
My heart broke for her, and I cursed myself a thousand times inside my raging head.
I reached for a loofah, lathering it thick with soap that smelled like strawberries and Bebe. Placing my hand between her legs, I started washing her slowly, my motions soothing and sweet. I focused my eyes on her because I couldn’t bear looking down. Couldn’t fucking think of anything but her eyes, those beautiful, beautiful eyes blinking back tears and smiling into mine.
“It’s okay,” I promised her again, and she nodded, sniffing a little. “I’ll make it all okay, Bebe.”
I was going to kill them both for fucking her bare. I didn’t even dare ask her whether she was on protection. I knew I’d have to, but I swallowed the question every single time it came up.
The water was nice and hot as it washed over us, soothing away the pain and the worst of Bebe’s weeping. I washed her so carefully, like she was made of porcelain and one wrong move would shatter her to pieces. I knew just how close to the truth that was.
“Bebe,” I said gently, tipping her chin back and smoothing the loofah over her toned stomach, to her tits and her aching neck. The fingerprints of one of the jerks were still on her throat, red and angry. They would probably bruise, and every time I looked at them, I’d hate myself a little bit more. “Bebe, look at me. Let me see those eyes.”
She raised a weary, tired look up into my gaze. I smiled at her, and she returned a faint, tired smile.
“I’m sorry, Bebe,” I told her roughly. “I’m sorry for what I put you through, I should never have done that, I just…”
“Just what?” she whispered.
Her eyes looked at me with accusations flying. I knew she was angry, and she had every right to be. I just sacrificed her body to my own insecurities, like she was a cheap fucking whore.
“Just know I…” I swallowed. Couldn’t get the words out. “I was ashamed. Scared of our… connection. Scared of you. I wanted to detach myself.”
“How did that work out?” she sounded bitter and tired, and I couldn’t blame her.
“It didn’t,” I admitted. “Because I fucked you up when all I wanted to do was push you away.”
“Why?” she sniffled. “Why did you try to get rid of me? You’re just like everybody else. Every single person who doesn’t even want me…”
“I’m not,” I said, grabbing her gently and pulling her closer. “I’m not, Bebe, I…”
“Say it then,” she taunted me, her eyes boring into mine. “Say it, you fucking coward.”
“I just… I…” I gasped for air.
The walls were closing in. The water switched between being boiling hot and ice cold, at first burning my back and then freezing the wounds. I could barely breathe. Could barely keep my eyes open. It was limbo, horrible, hellish limbo and I was caught without a way out, the only solution so unbelievably hard I couldn’t physically imagine doing it.
“I do,” I whispered. “You know, Bebe…”
“Say it!” She smashed her little fist into my shoulder and I was suddenly glad the shower was running because I was crying like a pussy. “Say it, you fucking jackass!”
I couldn’t.
She tore out of my hands and stormed out of the shower, leaving me in there broken. I stumbled after her, my wet clothes running everywhere, puddles gathering around my feet.
“Bebe!” I snarled, grabbing her waist and pulling her against me.
“What?” she growled. “What the fuck do you want? You won’t even admit it, you selfish bastard…”
“I…” Once again, my words froze in my throat. “Bebe, please.”
My lips sought out hers, but she pushed me away.
“Bebe,” I growled back. “Stop. Fucking. Fighting. Me. You’re mine.”
“I’m not!” she screamed.
“You are!” I yelled. “Mine. Mine. Fucking. MINE!”
She howled and I bit her lips, kissing her so fiercely she crumpled in my arms, desperately pressing her lips to mine, offering herself to me.
“Tell me,” I ordered her. “Tell me you’re mine.”
“Yours,” she whispered hoarsely.
“All mine,” I corrected her. “I don’t fucking share you.”
“But you—”
“I. Don’t…” I bit her throat and she cried out. Her body spasmed. She was fucking coming. My fingers fought their way to her pussy and I pulled the orgasm out of her trembling cunt. “…Share. YOU!”