Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.
~James A. Baldwin~
She knows some of the things I do. Aria told her, I know she did. I was listening. She took it calmer than I thought. I was expecting her to yell and scream. Leave me, even. Though she did none of those things, she worked me to her advantage, made me make promises I would never give to anyone else. But she surprised me, even with that gun. She’s one of the best shooters I’ve seen, and I have seen a lot. She shot each target as skilled as someone who is trained.
“You like her,” I ask her, referring to Aria.
“Yes, she’s no bullshit. It’s refreshing,” she says smirking, wrapping her arms around me. I follow and wrap my arms around her, bringing her closer.
“I don’t bullshit you, Bexley,” I tell her, wanting to gauge her reaction.
“Mmmhmm,” is all she says smiling. My hands circle around her face, one on each of her cheeks. I lean her face back and just look, I can’t say it enough, think it enough that she’s literally breathtaking. She smiles up at me, and I lean down placing a soft kiss to her lips. Her hands now cover mine, over her face. And she reaches up to deepen the kiss, I let her.
“Are you two going to suck face all night or come and play guitar hero with me,” Aria’s voice sings out. Bexley smiles and pulls away from me. She starts to walk off and stops mid-step looking back at me, a mischievous smile taking over.
“If you play for at least an hour, I’ll let you have me any way you want,” she says shaking her ass and then running inside. And what kind of man would I be if I didn’t follow?
“Oh, come on, Aria. I so kicked your ass in that one,” Bexley whines. Aria places her hand on her hip and holds the guitar, her eyebrows raised.
“P…p…please! No one can beat me, I’m the mother-fucking-queen of this game.”
“I won, didn’t I, Zeke?” Bexley says and both eyes turn to me. Bexley smiling sweetly, Aria threatening that she may kill me with her guitar if I don’t pick her.
“You won. Sis is just not used to losing, she’ll get over it.” Jagger steps up from behind us laughing.
“Fuck you all, leave my house.” Aria shoots her hands up pointing to the door.
“I’ll see you next week?” Bexley asks leaning in kissing her cheek then pulling me out the door. Aria mutters something not appropriate and Bexley laughs.
Bexley tells me how she ended up at the club and that it was Jagger’s idea. I will definitely be having a chat to Jagger about that. She also tells me how fond of Aria she is. I try telling her not to get too attached to her and she laughs at me.
“You tell me that about us, Zeke,” she says laughing.
“Yes, and I’m right, you shouldn’t. I will only break your heart. Because I will break your heart, Bexley. There isn’t a doubt in my mind. Remember all the times I warned you, and those times you chose not to listen to me.”
“How can you do that? How can you go from a great evening to ruining it with your awful words? I’m not asking you to declare your love, Zeke, I’m asking you to just end a good night on a high note. But no, you have to fuck it up with all your stupid rules and precautions.” She leans away from me in the car and stares out the window, entirely ignoring my presence now.
“I don’t want you to think I’m your happily ever after, Bexley. I’m not. I’m your hell, you just haven’t realized it yet.”
“Just shut up talking and take me home,” she mutters, ignoring me.
When we pull up to the house, she’s quiet. She is quiet when she enters, and she’s quiet as she strips down to nothing and climbs in bed facing away from me.
“Don’t act like this is news to you, Bexley. Don’t act like I hurt you every time I tell you the truth. I won’t lie to you about any of this. What I say is the truth.” I hear her sigh. She’s slowly coming to terms, I think, that this won’t last forever. But right now, now is all that matters.
Love makes your soul crawl out of its hiding place.
~Zora Neale Hurtson~
These are my thoughts as soon as I wake, it happens every time. No matter what. They consume me. I guess I’m trying to make myself believe that my love will be enough. That it is enough. Though, as I reach my hand out to touch his toned and chiseled body, my thoughts take a back burner. I run my hand along his stomach, slowing wanting it to go lower. Just as I reach his waistband, he clasps my hand in his and stops me. He throws my hand to the side and steps from the bed, not even throwing me a backwards glance. My heart breaks a little bit each time he does this to me. I’m afraid if nothing changes, and I don’t receive the tiniest bit of affection, I will become a shell of the person I was. I will basically become his whore, only there for when he needs to fuck. Never to make love. It’s purely a sexual, animal act. There’s never a trace of love when it comes to him.
I watch as he walks from the shower, dripping wet. Making my pussy come to life with just the look of him. He’s what I’d say the devil sculpted. Why the devil you ask? Because God would never be so cruel as to make a man so perfect as him to torture me. He would give me a man to love, a man that would show me an ounce of love and affection back. So, he must be the devil. He’s perfect in every way, except the way that counts.
The heart.
I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even have a heart. And that alone breaks my heart again. Even though I know he doesn’t love me, I love him. I believe that that’s enough. Well, that’s what I keep telling myself.
He stands at the end of the bed naked as the day he was born. His toned and sun-kissed skin glistening from the water that’s still dripping from him. He looks up at me, and my eyes travel the length of him as I feel his eyes boring into mine. He. Is. Deadly. Anyone who knows him knows this. But looks can be deceiving. He isn’t covered in tattoos, hell he doesn’t even smoke. His eyes are blue though sometimes they turn gray when he’s angry, very angry. His hair is long on top and he usually styles it so the top flips back. It’s shaven around the sides, and if someone tried to pull his haircut off, I don’t think it would ever look as good as it does on him. His body, well his body is made of the devil, including his face, the devil I tell you. It’s something no woman or man can resist. It has that pull, where you want to run your tongue over every inch of him. His cheekbones are high and pronounced. His eyelashes are long, his body is pure muscle, and I don’t think there’s an inch of fat on him at all. His cock is massive, and it hits all those perfect spots when he slides into me, which makes my pussy clench even harder just thinking about sex with him. His ass, though, his ass I have to say was sculpted by the gods. It’s the best ass I’ve ever seen, and I have seen a few. It has no hair, thank God. And its round, which makes me want run my hands over it.
“You staying in bed all day?” his loud gruff voice makes my eyes snap to his. His voice is one that commands. He’d make a perfect Dom with a rough voice like that. He tips his head to the side when I don’t answer, getting impatient with me. He’s still naked, placing his suit on the bed waiting for me to answer, so he can continue his task of getting dressed and be gone.
“No,” I answer looking in his eyes. He pulls his pants up then slides into a crisp white shirt. He grabs his tie and starts to do it up when I stand. Fully naked. His eyes appreciate me for a second before they go back to the task at hand – getting dressed. I walk past him and go straight to the shower, I hear him as he leaves not even saying a simple goodbye and I sigh inside. Why is he like this? Why does he even keep me around? I know I should leave him and that I could find someone to love me like I’m meant to. But I just can’t stand the thought of leaving him.