The Boyfriend

She wouldn’t let me take her out on a date. She wouldn’t let me kiss her, or touch her. Three months after she came back to Ardor, she went island hopping with Kelsey on her 21st birthday. I wasn’t invited, obviously. I couldn’t sleep that night, wondering if she was going to get wasted and ended up with some strange guy, willingly or unwillingly. There’s no other girl that has kept me up all night as often as she did. For all different kinds of reasons.

But to end up with a strange guy was not the problem with her, it was only that one guy. I hate him. He calls her much too often for my liking. They would talk for hours, it burned me, and I couldn’t do anything about it.

The almost kisses we had was driving me insane, but I’ve promised her I’d wait however long it takes. I think she was torturing me on purpose.

Six months after she was back, she finally let me in. We kissed. Every kiss was better than the last. I love kissing her. We kissed and kissed until our mouths were dry, she wouldn’t let me go further than that. And that was the start of our relationship. I respected her choice, even though I was dying to undress her, I couldn’t stop thinking about it every time we went out on a date, I thought that would be the time. But she wasn’t letting her guard down, even after all those time, she needed more time to trust me.

She’s brilliant. Damn! She’s so much smarter than me. After a year working for Ardor, she can single handedly run the whole operation without me. She does everything better than me. We made our first million within a year of her working there, and I took her out to Uomo to celebrate.

That was where we made love for the first time. Her skin on my skin. Her breath and my breath as we move simultaneously as one. She had me, all of me. It was better than how I’d imagined it.

We woke up to the sunrise and reminisced about the first time we were there just over a year before. We laughed about it. How glad I was that I didn’t give up on her. It was the first time I told her I love her, and she said it back to me, and we made love again and again and again.

A year after we were together, Preston came to visit. We had our first major fight before his arrival. He always gets the best of me. I couldn’t block the image of her naked body tangled up with him. He was her first, and he will always be that person for her. I couldn’t accept it. I wanted him out of our relationship, out of our lives. No matter how hard she assured me that they were only ‘friends’, and what happened between them was never going to happen again, I just couldn’t let it go.

She slapped me for saying a totally inappropriate accusation over my jealous rage. I deserved it. I begged her for forgiveness. I even got down on my knees. I didn’t want to drive her away and be the reason for her to find comfort in him. Not him. And we made out, a super hot and steamy love making after our first big fight. We were all over the kitchen floor, kicked around a few chairs, grabbed and held on the cabinets, we were loud and nasty.

I love the way she yanked my hair when we had sex. The way she squeezed gently around my neck, and her tiny love bites on my shoulder. I made her feel good, she said. And that aspires me to make her feel better and better every time.

In the back of my mind, there’s always this tingling wondering if I was better than him in pleasuring her. That thought was nesting in my brain like a splinter that would kill me one day. Of course I never asked her, unless I was willing to get another slap. And he was becoming a celebrity. His face was all over the media. When he was rumored to have dated a series of super hot celebrities, he was still regularly on the phone with MY girlfriend!! What a blow on my ego, huh? I can’t even count how many fights we had over that guy, even when he’s not around.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

It’s not so much what they did together before she was my girlfriend. It was the way he sang for her in his concerts that she watched on youtube. The songs he wrote for her, about her, about his feelings for her, and about that dreadful night they were together. I could just kill him for rubbing it on my face like that.

I hate him. I hate them for whatever they have going on between them. But I can’t deny the sex we had afterwards were magical. The way she convinced me over and over again that I was the one she loves was pulling me deeper into her grip. She loves me, though, I felt it. She treated me good, she put me first and I put her first. Her gentle touches, her kisses, her kind words, she’s got me wrapped around her finger.

Other than that guy, we rarely had any fights. She’s so cool with everything. She doesn’t nag about small things. She doesn’t lay out rules like most girls I dated. She never pointed out my mistakes or brought out the same problem in every heated argument. She even bought a mermaid tail for our bedroom foreplay. I don’t know how she knew my secret turned on for mermaids. I begged her to never cut her hair because it turned me on every time she let her hair down. I guess she figured it out.

She’s the one. I guess I’ve known it all along. There’s no one else for me. Even my mom fell in love with her. She kept asking me when I was going to pop the question when we were well in our second year of relationship. I knew I had to wait much longer, she would reject me flat out. She told me once that she never saw herself being married before she was thirty. God, I don’t think I can wait that long. So I did the next best thing, I asked her to move in with me, and she agreed.

She made the place feel like a real home. I love her, madly. The time will come, when she’s ready, I will make her my wife.