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Over the next couple of years, I worked at various jobs that required manual labor and had nothing to do with my degree. But they always put food on the table, kept a roof over my head, and paid the bills.
Exactly how they were when I knew he was trying to contain his desire. I started to nod, and he squeezed my breast tightly.
Since I was partner-less, he worked privately with me on the weekends in non-sexual situations for about six months. " While he talked, his fingers moved lazily over my skin, sending goosebumps popping up on my arms and legs.
I'd thought wanting to be an archaeologist was too limited.
Please you?" Though my arms still refused to raise to him, words were finally on my tongue.
I was late for work the next morning and left in a rush. That's about it.
I fell asleep with tears drying on my face and my heart feeling crushed. The next morning, I found cans of chicken noodle soup and clear juice stocked in the kitchen; tissues and pain relievers in the bathroom; and bedding folded on the ottoman.
He continued pounding.