True Intention

Ch 39🌶️- Shirkers!

Naomi POV

One of the most frustrating things in this world, to me, are people that don't own their actions and choices.

Accountability, I guess. It's funny, you hear it so much when people talk about work, the government, and crimes, but ask anyone to define it for you? Most don't know what it means. But yeah, own your s**t and make changes if you f**k up. There you go.

The moment you point a finger at someone else, you're a shirker.

Not to say that there is anything wrong with calling someone out for their actions, they too, should be responsible for their choices. I mean that when you put your life's problems on someone else unjustly, it's simply not acceptable. I knew of a girl, a shift manager, who caught someone at work rolling their clock in time to when they were not there. She saw it once, reported to her manager, recommending that he speak with her about not doing it again. He decided to check the last six months, and when he found the employee was doing it consistently, he terminated the employee for theft.

Guess who the employee blamed and harassed, even threatening to s***h their tires? The girl that reported it. The employee didn't want to accept that they themselves, by making such an unethical choice, had caused their own problem. I see it all the time and it really grinds my gears.

This Janet chick was a total shirker. She refused to own a single thing that she was actually 100% responsible for.

Carla and Stacy had been shirkers too. Blaming everyone and everything other than themselves for their situation, choices, and actions. It's like certain people's brains just don't have whatever switch engages logic flipped on. It's painful for those of us that are logical to try and wrap our brains around the lack of it.

Maybe someone needs to study that s**t.

I mean, seriously. So many problems in the world come from two words- fear and blame. Both of these are rooted in a failure to own yourself. Sure there is a ton in life that you can't control. I get that. But you don't have to let it cause this absolute refusal to accept the things you choose. I could sense there was more to Janet's story, of course, but she had to take those first steps to put herself in control. I'd been there, I knew how awful it felt when it seemed like you had none. But I had understood that I had to do it, for me. Nobody else could do anything but be steady. The only person that can affect change is you. There may be situations that provide clarity or influence your choices, but ultimately, in the end, it's all down to your choice.

Even doing nothing is a choice.

That's why I get so frustrated by the blame game.

I like logic. Does that mean I don't have emotions or make emotional decisions? Absolutely not.

Look at my situation with Ren. I'd have dated him much sooner if I'd gone on pure logic. But I'm the first to admit fear held me back. It's why I went to therapy, to address and deal with it. It's hard to admit when things need to change to yourself. That's okay. It's normal. But being strong enough to do so, and make a conscious change? Literally turns your life around. Being open to change is so important. Open to things not being what you always expected, too.

There was this guy in many of my classes in high school. I overheard him telling his friend that he'd never date anyone taller than him. He was 5'0." He was literally excluding like, more than half of the women in the world for consideration. 5'0" is "shorter than 95.9% of the world's female population, on average." Talk about limiting your options. What if the best person for you was taller anyway? What's the worst that could happen?

Social awkwardness?

If you're happy why does what some person you've never met thinks matter?

Right. I'm being more than a little hypocritical there. But I can admit it. I knew I was letting my fear rule me.

My point is, by making a blanket decision that something outside your comfort zone is just not even a possibility, you are closing yourself off to what could be amazing and wonderful. What if I hadn't decided to return to therapy and let my new friends in? I'd still be that shell of myself I was until Ren inserted himself into my space. He didn't change me, his presence helped me decide to change myself. His acceptance helped me realize I wanted that for myself.

I wasn't alone, and the person next to me wanted me to be better for myself.

It's empowering.

I was laying on my bed, just thinking.

I should be working on a project for our painting class, the current elective that Ren and I were taking. I wanted to paint him, and I had a sketch for it. We were supposed to paint someone that inspired us.My only problem was, it was shaping up to be a pretty personal piece. Kind of like his painting of me, except it wasn't a full body nude. It was of him sitting with his elbow on his knee, his cheek on his palm, head tilted and making eye contact with the artist. He was nude from the waist up, but wearing his signature cargoes, and his signature smirk. Barefoot, which added a strange level of intimacy to the portrait.

He was sitting on a rough wooden chair, in a rather industrial-looking space featuring a concrete floor. The light source was a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling off to his left, adding a glow to his irises. It made his eyes like a light in the dark, much like his presence was in my life. The shadows and light made him luminous yet showed he too could be affected by darkness, conveyed by shadow. That meant he was raw and human, just like the rest of us.

Imperfectly perfect.

A knock at my door interrupted my thoughts, and I checked to make sure I was decent, since it might be one of the other guys. I was wearing one of my few white things, a satin open back slip by Victoria's Secret, that had a criss-cross in the back and slits on the sides. It was very short, barely mid-thigh. I'd found the white oddly sexier than the black when I bought it, along with the matching satin short robe, which laid next to me. I scooped it up and slipped it on. My hair hung loose around my shoulders, and I had no makeup on.

When I opened the door, Ren stood there and scanned me from top to bottom, pausing hungrily on my exposed legs. His eyes burned into me when they met mine. His fingers twitched like he was struggling not to reach out and touch. Poor baby. He could take it though, and I certainly wasn't sure why he was bothering not to give into his urges, anyway. He knew I would not stop him.

"I'm not sure how I feel about my future wife answering doors like this." He growled, grinning wolfishly. I knew he was feeling possessive, but trying to soften it. I pulled him into my room by his hand, locking it. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sharp breath. "Sorry, I should not have said-" I silenced him with a kiss.

I understood his emotions. If he answered his door shirtless, I'd probably feel the same way, even if shirtless was necessary sometimes. He didn't mind that I was like that, and in return, I wasn't going to punish him for wanting me all to himself. Things were still a little new, and despite our commitment, it would take time for both of us to feel the security we wanted. It wasn't that we doubted, we both had our hang-ups, and we were working on that.

What was that saying... “The course of true love never did run smooth." Thank you, William Shakespeare for A Midsummer Night's Dream. His works contain so many gems. Honestly, my favorites are his poems. I'd received a lovely embossed book containing them as a pre-teen. I'd related to many of the more bitter verses, that was certain, for a long time.

It was nice to know I was not the only one that struggled.

"Babe, you don't have to apologize. I want to scratch out the eyes of every woman that stares at you while conveniently ignoring me." I pouted, pulling his bottom lip between my teeth and sucking on his vertical lebret. "I get it." He pulled me to him, his arousal apparent through his modal pajama pants, eyes branding mine with love, passion, and neediness. I was okay with it all. His hands slid under my slip, cupping my ass and squeezing it, a little roughly.

I was glad that with him, I didn't mind it at all.

"This is mine." His voice was rough and dark as he attacked my neck with kisses and love bites, each sending a jolt to my soaked core. "And I can never, ever, get enough of you." He said, hoisting my legs around his waist and walking to my bed, dropping my torso, but holding my legs, pulling them up against his chest as he ground himself against my p***y and ass, now bare to him. Holding my ankles with one hand, he dropped his pants with the other before thrusting deeply into my core with his hard, thick c**k. So deep. His thumb brushed my c**t, and he grinned as my back arched. He kissed my ankle, making me shiver as he thrust rhythmically and relentlessly. "Have you thought about getting this pierced, babe?" He asked, his thumb still making small circles on my bundle of nerves. "Maybe the hood so you don't lose sensation?" God was he really being like this right now? I clenched my walls on purpose, and he laughed as he slammed in and held, pushing into my cervix. "Fine, you have my full attention, beautiful girl. Now flip over and let me spank that ass."

I eagerly flipped, resenting my weeping core, pink, swollen and gushing fluids. He leaned down and swiped his tongue from c**t to my tight rosette, swirling a little. Then he smacked my ass, hard. I moaned and gushed. He swiped some juices to my ass, and as he surged forward into my core with his c**k, his thumb penetrating my ass. Holy s**t that was good. He continued to pump my ass as we both came hard. I could feel the force of his ejaculate as it shot out of him and coated my womb. It was so damn sexy. I couldn't even move as he went off to grab a cloth to cleanse me. I could smell mouthwash and giggled. He pushed me gently onto my side and held me to him, still naked, kissing my neck softly and with great tenderness.

He was in his feels, it just wasn't clear which kind exactly.

"Are you okay?" I said hoarsely, limp from our overwhelming expression of passion.

"Yeah, babe, I just can't help myself with you. The way I want you... sometimes I worry it's too much, you know?" He sighed. I turned to face him, stroking his beloved face. I smiled. Sometimes his fragile side was both sweet and heartbreaking at the same time. He was so careful with me, but at this point, I needed him to be himself. Whatever that meant.

"Babe, it's never too much. I like everything you do. I feel... sacred."

He kissed me tenderly, and made slow, sensual love to me yet again. He was perfect, my man.