HIM

1:00 AM

As I toss and turn in bed, at one in the morning, bed covers tangled between my legs, pillow damp from the sweat I produced. I was awoken by HIM. He had come into my dreams again for the fifth time this week. He appeared in my dreams like the first four times, but this time he was shirtless and greased with baby oil. His hair was pushed back, and muscles ripped like a Greek God ready to strike down Hades. I was wet from this dream because of him. In this dream, I watched him from the window as he undressed into his boxers. He hung them just low enough to where his erection stood tall and ready to be played with. My mouth began to water at the sight of it twitching. He always looked down at the floor and tilt it aside. His breath was ragged and slow. I watched his chest rise up and down as he lit a cigarette and took a few puffs before he blew. He knew I was watching HIM, but he didn’t seem to care. He liked the attention, and honestly, it was a bit arousing watching him, watch me—watch HIM. My body was in heat ten times hotter than last time. It was winter, cold, and damp. The snow was falling around my hoodie as I tried to keep warm. I wore gloves that protected me from frostbite, but my fingertips felt like ice icicles. I rubbed them together, causing friction as I felt the warmth circulate around my palms. It was like it erupted and sent a dwelling fire within me that burst with excitement and turned me on, even more, I thought of him. But something changed, there was some else there…

I see him in the shadows, lurking around—wondering if I notice him staring at me from afar. Every time I close my eyes, I picture him standing there with his shirt off. With him—and this other woman. Blonde, beautiful, and his type. She stood in front of him wearing laced baby blue lingerie. Her breast complimented her figure. She was perfect for him. She stood 5’11 with heels on, which were also baby blue. Without them, she’d be about 5’4 in height. Her long and luscious blonde hair was pushed up in a high ponytail, half of which kept her hair in tack. He loved the way she looked in the mirror as he stood behind her, admiring her beauty. She was everything a man wanted in a woman and more.

What was it about her?

Why was he so drawn to her facade?

He—a man so entirely built it- should be illegal, but he was drawn to her like a bee to honey; she set a trap for him and fell for it. Thinking about them together—in the bed that he and I shared feels more like a betrayal. A stab in the heart of your will. Him—the way he smells her. I can feel his breath on my neck, feel him touch her arms all the way down to her hips, in between her thighs. I picture him eating her out. Hearing the sweet growls of passion, as she digs her nails in his back as she whispers: I’m yours for the taking… Listening to him say; I love you more than anything…. And her saying it back to him as if I didn’t matter to him. All those nights we spent together, the trips we took, even the engagement ring he gave her, and she said yes….

Why DID SHE SAY YES to HIM!

Why did he break my heart and leave me for her?

How could this have happened?

I loved him.

I needed answers as to why this happened.

He used to love the way I’d hold him at night when he’d have nightmares about someone chancing him. We’d make love underneath the stars as he’d look me in my eyes and tell me how precious I was to him. How he’d get me there each and every time I climaxed… felt magical, but seeing her with him, breaks my heart into pieces.

My days were fulfilled with promises of forever. I couldn’t stop thinking about him--our first few weeks together. You could say I fell fast, but he was such a good lay imagining him commanding me on my knees, him pulling my hair back, clenching a fist full with his right hand. I’d ooze with excitement, just one glance at him, and I was ready. I’d bite the side of my lip and touch myself at night by the mention or sound of his voice. I’d suck him off as he’d stare me down, telling me to speed up, then slow down. My eyes would water, but I wouldn’t care. Pleasing him was all that mattered.

3:50 AM

I scrolled through my phone of pictures we took on our last trip. We were on the Caribbean Island of Barbados: Crisp blue water flowing—as it hit the rocks on the side of the shore, with us laying across the coast of the beach. We were sunbathing outside his villa; the water would brush up against our feet as it would sway back and forth like a melody—or soothing the souls of the ancestors that passed. We had just taken a trip to Italy, while I waited in his house, he was out on business. Sure, girls would flaunt themselves at him, and he admitted to looking, but that’s all that happened. It’s just—when he was with her, I became more primal to keeping him close. Around two fifteen, I went back to sleep but was awoken again by HIM. The clock on the wall read: 3:50 AM. I must have dozed off in between my slumber-- I felt a shudder rush through me, like a bolt of electricity had shocked me tenfold. I could feel the goosebumps up and down my arms like I could sense he was near, and he was. He was here. There was a crack in my closet, and it felt like someone was watching me. He was watching—definitely watching me. I could smell him only a few feet away; he knew I needed him. His touch clothed me and clouded my judgment without hesitation. He watched me tease him. I was trying to lure him out of my closet by seductively flaunting off a piece of clothing I had on as pajamas. He growled, low and pretentious as if he wasn’t trying to have me soaking wet from the way he looked at me. His eyes were a goldish brown like a full moon’s harvest fest. I used my index finger to guide him in between my legs. I parted them as he crawled out from the closet, looked like a beast—entirely built from head to toe as if I was his prey, and he was ready to pounce on me at any second.

Touch your-self… he whispered.

I didn’t know what came over me, but I did. His voice ruptured my every thought I was thinking, and I couldn’t bear to resist his command.

You’re wet, aren’t you, poupée?... he said.

Again, I got lost in his love language without thinking, I touched myself, and he was right. I was soaked from the rim. My index finger and middle were pressed on my clit, which throbbed from his baritone voice. He was watching me—watch him—watch me play with myself. I had let out a small whimper I couldn’t help myself but to continue. He circled around my bed and unzipped his pants, having his erection poking out from his boxers. He was more ready than me.

Are you ready for me, poupée? he mumbled.

I nodded, but he didn’t like that.

Say… It! he demanded and growled.

Yes… the words slipped through me as he took me in his arms; he climbed on top and took control.

Say my name… he panted in between each stroke and thrust; I held onto him as his name escaped my lips.

Leo!.... I moaned.

Leo began thrusting and grunting in between breaths as I did the same; I held him closer as he broke my walls and came inside me without hesitation. My body shook, and my eyes widened as he had taken my breath away like the kiss of death itself, but this feeling was like more than I can imagine. It was HIM who I wanted, and it was HIM who I needed.

He knew it as much as I did. It was always HIM!