Olivia’s POV
The word struck me harder than I thought it would, and for a moment, I froze. He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t playing. His denial was firm and final.
"You’re not in a good mood, Olivia," he continued, his eyes holding mine with a quiet authority that sent a shiver through me. "You’re angry. You’re unsettled. And I will not touch you like this, not when your emotions are this raw."
My throat tightened, my body trembling, but not from rejection. His refusal wasn’t a dismissal—it was control. Restraint. And somehow, that only made me ache more.
"That’s exactly why I need this," I pushed back, my voice breaking on the edge of desperation. I stepped closer, my fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt, clinging as though I could anchor myself to him. "Louis... I need you to take this from me. The jealousy. The fire. I can’t breathe with it sitting inside me."
His nostrils flared, his composure faltering for a second, just a crack that revealed the storm behind his eyes. His hand came up, cupping my jaw with careful strength, forcing me to meet him head-on.
"You don’t know what you’re asking," he murmured, but his voice had roughened, heavy with restraint, with desire barely leashed.
"I do," I whispered back, my body pressing closer, my nipples brushing against the firmness of his chest, sending another pulse of heat between my thighs. "I know exactly what I’m asking. And I trust you to give it to me."
"You’re not a sub, Olivia," he said firmly, his voice low but edged with certainty. His thumb brushed over my jaw, holding me steady as though daring me to argue. "And I will never force you into something that you are not into. You’re my mate—that is more than enough."
His words should have calmed me, but they only made my chest tighten more. My voice came out rough, almost pleading. "Maybe I’m not a sub... but I can learn. Teach me, Louis. If this is what you like, if this is what you crave, then I want to know it. I want to be the one who satisfies your needs."
For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—surprise, conflict, desire. His grip on my face softened as though my words had cut through the walls he’d built around himself.
"My needs don’t come first, Olivia," he said, his voice softer now, but laced with an intensity that made my stomach flutter. "Yours do. Always. I’ll never let anything—anything—come before that."
I shook my head, my hands sliding up his chest, clutching tightly at his shirt as I pressed closer, feeling his hardness straining against me. "But satisfying you is my need," I whispered fiercely, my lips trembling with the truth of it. "If this is part of you, Louis, then it’s part of us. And I want all of you."
The air thickened, the weight of my words pressing down on us. His jaw clenched, his eyes searching mine, and for a long heartbeat, he said nothing. Then he exhaled, a rough, low sound that made my pulse race.
"Fine," he said at last, his voice gravelly but calm, commanding. His hand slid from my jaw to the back of my neck, holding me firmly but gently. "If we do this, we do it my way. You’ll give me your trust completely, and in return, I’ll protect you through it. Always."
His thumb stroked once along my throat, careful but purposeful, before his gaze deepened, demanding. "But first, Olivia... you’ll tell me your safe word."
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