I take a step back, my heart pounding in my chest. His tone doesn’t sound playful; it’s a threat. But the thing is, I’m getting tired of him feeling some sort of entitlement toward me.
“Yours?” My voice rises in disbelief. “You don’t get to say that! You don’t get to put some claim on me when you’ve made it loud and clear that you’re married.”
Ever since we met, and he decided in his twisted mind that I was perfect to be his mistress, he put that claim on me like I was some property. No matter how many times I told him he had no right to do so, my pleas just fell on deaf ears. Then I made the first move, expecting he would reciprocate because that was what he wanted. And it wasn’t just the kiss—when I told him I was okay with it, he said something along the lines of me not being certain.
