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Friday 11 September 2026 02:04:17 GMT
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✦ PART 7: The Dinner   Thursday night arrived, and I stood before the mirror in my apartment, staring at the dress I’d chosen deep emerald, modest but elegant, sleeves to the elbow, hem just above the knee. Professional, but undeniably beautiful. I arrived at the restaurant at 7:00 PM. Becky was already there, waiting outside in a sleek black dress, her hair down loose, dark waves that fell to her shoulders. She looked breathtaking. And terrifying.   When she saw me, her eyes darkened, raked over me from head to toe, and she stepped forward, taking my hand in hers. “You look… incredible,” she said, her voice thick. “But I was right too beautiful. I’m going to spend the whole night fighting people off.”   “Then don’t,” I said, surprising myself. “Just claim me.”   Her breath hitched, and she squeezed my hand. “Oh, I plan to.”   The dinner was a blur of important names and business talk, but Becky never let go of my hand beneath the table. Every time I spoke, she watched me with rapt attention. Every time someone else spoke to me, her jaw tightened, her grip on my hand firming. She was territorial fiercely, undeniably possessive. And when we finally said our goodbyes and walked to her car, she didn’t open the passenger door for me. She pulled me gently against it, her body pressing mine into the cool metal.   “Tonight was torture,” she murmured, her hands resting on my waist. “Watching you smile at them, laugh at their jokes… wanting to pull you away and tell them you’re mine.”   “I’m not yours, Becky,” I whispered but I didn’t pull away. “Not yet.”   “Not yet,” she agreed, leaning her forehead against mine. “But I’m going to earn every piece of you. I’m going to be the person you trust most. The person who protects you. The person who loves you better than anyone else ever could.”   She kissed me then slow, deliberate, claiming. It wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t rough either. It was certain. Like she’d been waiting a lifetime. And when she pulled back, she rested her forehead against mine. “Come home with me, Freen. Not because I demand it but because I want you there. Because I want to wake up and see you first thing in the morning.” part 8 on my profile  #fypシ #makeitviral #au #auwritter #beckyfreen
✦ PART 7: The Dinner Thursday night arrived, and I stood before the mirror in my apartment, staring at the dress I’d chosen deep emerald, modest but elegant, sleeves to the elbow, hem just above the knee. Professional, but undeniably beautiful. I arrived at the restaurant at 7:00 PM. Becky was already there, waiting outside in a sleek black dress, her hair down loose, dark waves that fell to her shoulders. She looked breathtaking. And terrifying. When she saw me, her eyes darkened, raked over me from head to toe, and she stepped forward, taking my hand in hers. “You look… incredible,” she said, her voice thick. “But I was right too beautiful. I’m going to spend the whole night fighting people off.” “Then don’t,” I said, surprising myself. “Just claim me.” Her breath hitched, and she squeezed my hand. “Oh, I plan to.” The dinner was a blur of important names and business talk, but Becky never let go of my hand beneath the table. Every time I spoke, she watched me with rapt attention. Every time someone else spoke to me, her jaw tightened, her grip on my hand firming. She was territorial fiercely, undeniably possessive. And when we finally said our goodbyes and walked to her car, she didn’t open the passenger door for me. She pulled me gently against it, her body pressing mine into the cool metal. “Tonight was torture,” she murmured, her hands resting on my waist. “Watching you smile at them, laugh at their jokes… wanting to pull you away and tell them you’re mine.” “I’m not yours, Becky,” I whispered but I didn’t pull away. “Not yet.” “Not yet,” she agreed, leaning her forehead against mine. “But I’m going to earn every piece of you. I’m going to be the person you trust most. The person who protects you. The person who loves you better than anyone else ever could.” She kissed me then slow, deliberate, claiming. It wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t rough either. It was certain. Like she’d been waiting a lifetime. And when she pulled back, she rested her forehead against mine. “Come home with me, Freen. Not because I demand it but because I want you there. Because I want to wake up and see you first thing in the morning.” part 8 on my profile #fypシ #makeitviral #au #auwritter #beckyfreen

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