Thursday, May 10, 2018

Really Good At What He Does

Currently Listening To: "What Goes Around... Comes Around" by Justin Timberlake

28 days. That’s how many days between the day you told her you loved her on February 5th - months after you told me you loved her - to the time John died. So what exactly changed? When did you decide you didn’t love her anymore? I call bullshit.

That's the text our mutual friend sent him just days after our relationship fell apart. Our entire circle was just as confused as to what could have happened. What could make someone throw away a future and a family so quickly? 

But really, it was less than 28 days. It took less than 28 days for him to trash me and Claire, and cuddle up to his new, fellow assistant coach. It took less than 28 days to damage multiple friendships and break a variety of promises. It was the 11 days after we buried Dad though that were the most cruel. He's becoming a better man now, have you heard?


February 5th, 2018

My stomach did a little dip when I saw him turn the corner. Handsome, he had gotten his hair cut and a fresh shave. He wore a camel-colored Tommy Hilfiger coat that complimented his dark skin nicely. 

"Hey baby," he said with a smile and nonchalant attitude.

He began planning the surprise back in December. All of my girlfriends knew about it. I suspected something would be happening but there was a basketball game rescheduled for the night so my hope diminished. But when Lake came to pick me up at the door, still in her scrubs, I knew he had come through, again. 

I already knew he was trying to find the perfect moment to tell me he loved me. There had been so many missed chances now, for months. But that's the night he did it. And for 28 days the crumbled feeling that marked that date completely disappeared. 


He would get so hot and bothered. He'd nearly finish the task by me just blowing along the sides of his neck. He was so mystified by this that he eventually texted Ian:

So, have you ever gotten off just by making out?

I'm now told that Jennifer and Ian argued about whether or not we were having sex yet. For the record, we were a few weeks away from our first time together. But this particular interaction with our shared best friend makes me giggle... still. 


He's really good at what he does. He's really good at making a woman feel special; special to him in particular. Each of us were the exception to the rule. He felt differently with me, with her, with the high school sweetheart that came before me. The attention to touch and detail, most of the time, was impressive. The compliments came at the right moments. "Baby," melts right off his tongue for each of us too.

They're all perfectly placed at moments that make her, or I, believe some type of genuine feeling. And that was important for me, especially in the bedroom. I had come from an experience that wasn't the best and never made me feel safe. And he knew that. 

The way he would call me sexy when I climbed on top or how he'd whisper, "You feel so good," throughout every thrust, those kinds of things can win a woman over. And in the moment, she'll feel like you've only ever said it to her. Of course, that's not the case, especially with a man that's crafted the art so well. Not crafted the art of sex, but the game.

I would tease him as much as I could. Or, as much as I had the opportunity to. So much so that I remember waking up to a snap from him one morning; complete with a photo the message read:

Still hard from last night.

In the evenings, I'd turn the lights out and ungracefully hop into his lap on the sofa. I'm taller than what he was used to, and he liked that. Once he was straddled, I'd go right for his sweet spot; the left side of his neck would do it every time. Then I'd wait because the moaning, "Oh baby" or "f*ck" would fall right into my ear as his hands found their way into the back of my shirt or waistband. And those hands and that touch, they quickly became aggressive.

The first time he touched me, really touched me, I fought it. My guard was still up in every sense of the word but somehow a finger still slipped inside. 

"You're so tight," he growled, "you'd never know."

"I know," I laughed back. 


September 5, 2017

The first time I allowed the rest of him inside of me, I was surprised by how perfectly we fit together. We didn't want our first time to be on the floor but once we started neither of us wanted to stop. 

When we finished, he walked around with a big, cheesy smile on his face while doing a little two-step, victory dance. He won a piece of me that night. I used to think about that moment and giggle. There was such an innocence in the way we went about it all. But I realize now, that was a part of the bigger game plan. And I hate him for that. I hate him for taking a part of me that I held so tightly. And he continued to do that, even after he met his newest target, which is the sickest thought of all.


He kissed every inch of me that night. But once he got to my inner thigh, his teeth came out to play. He bit down and said, "You're mine."

I woke up the next morning with a bruise. He had left his mark.


February 14, 2018

One of our longest sessions was on Valentine's Day night. Foreplay was drawn out and different positions were used. He was more adventurous on weekend nights so when I asked him for an explanation for his new moves he replied, "It's a special night."

Neither of us wanted to get up and find our clothes, too tired from the day and what had just happened between the sheets. We laid there talking about the future instead.


March 16, 2018

The night before our relationship unraveled we had sex for the last time. Of course, I didn’t know it was the last time then but it was different from any other toss in the sheets because of what he was doing. 

Spreading my legs and getting himself adjusted inside came with deep sighs and a growling, “I love you” in my ear. It was probably the quickest session we had ever had. 

Afterwards, he went to the bathroom. He threw my clothes off the bed and laughed mischeviously  So, I laid there with just the black sheet wrapped around me thinking, "It's all going to be okay. We're going to get through this." 


April 12, 2018

He was staring with his gaze falling on every line my body owned.

"Stop looking at me like that," I said annoyed.

He smirked, "I always look at you like this."

"You can't look at me like that anymore, I'm not yours," I rebutted.

I sat on the couch facing him. And I noticed, his eyes were lingering longer than they should, again.

"Ya know," he began, "for not sleeping much you look really good."

I replied, "I know."


I wonder. Did he buy all new underwear? Or is he wearing the 20+ pairs I bought him for Christmas with her?

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