It has been a long day and the only thing I am looking forward to is a cold glass

of chardonnay.

I find the door unlocked, freezing for a second because I am certain I locked on my
way out this morning. My mind races before I catch a whiff of his scent. He’s here.
“He’s here,” I say to myself, out loud this time. I open, slowly, and hear Simphiwe
Dana’s soothing voice in the living room.
“Daddy?” I call out, carefully calculating my steps as I walk in.
“Bedroom!” He shouts from the other end of the apartment. He really is here. I tear
up, drop everything and run to the bedroom. I find him naked, fresh out the shower
and glistening like a glazed doughnut. You ever hear women complain that men don’t
moisturise and are always ashy? Well, he’s an exception.
Standing by the door, I look straight into his eyes. He’s here.
“Hi angel face.” He greets.
I feel a rush of rage running through me. How dare he come back now? How did he
know where to find me? How the hell did he even get in here? Where the fuck has he
been? He is in front of me within seconds, wearing a remorseful look on his face,
wiping tears I didn’t know were falling down my cheeks.
“Hey now, don’t cry. I’m sorry.” His tone is soft, almost begging. I wail in his
chest, letting out everything I had built my walls around.
“You. Left. Me.” I say between sobs.
“Shhh, I know baby. I know.”
I let out a chuckle. I can’t focus though, not when his dick is standing up in
attention. He knows that his touch is my weakness, and so his thumb is gently
stroking my cheek. He hasn’t removed it since he wiped the same tears he caused.
His face moves closer to mine, and like he is afraid, he slowly grazes my lips with
his, teasing before completely capturing them for an intense kiss.

I stand by the window, watching the raindrops race down the huge glass with a
bottle of wine in hand. The shower is running in the background. My pu$$¥ is
throbbing. This is what always happens. He disappears for months or worse, two
years like he just did, comes back unannounced and he fucks me senseless before we
have any conversation.

This time, two things have changed. I moved and changed numbers so he couldn’t
track me and two, I met someone. He is gentle, kind and patient with me. I am a
tough nut to crack and he has stuck around even though I chased him away a million
times. I never told him about the idiot who’s taking a shower. Maybe deep down it’s
because I hoped he would come back, have his way with me like he just did and we
can officially call it quits because . . . I can’t do it anymore, not like this.

He wraps his arms around me, and instinctively I lean back towards him.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.” He turns me to face him, and locks his eyes with mine. I still see part
of myself in him. His soul dances playfully, and he has his boyish smirk on.
Mischief.
“Now, tell me what you’re really thinking.”
“I met someone.” I try stepping out of his embrace, but his hold on me is strong.
“Oh? Tell me more.” A smirk. Playful. Mischief.
“He wants something serious, says he’s too old to play games. We went on a couple
of dates. I-“
I look down, and he gently lifts my chin with his finger to look at him.
“You what, angel face?”
“I like him.”
“There’s a but.”
I take a deep breathe before I say it out loud.
“But there’s you. I’m still in love with you. I just - I can’t keep doing this. I
can’t do you coming and going as you please. I don’t want this for myself, not
anymore.”

“Come here.” He pulls me to the carpet at the foot of the bed and sits on the floor
before making me sit on him. I know how this conversation is going to end. I must
say though, watching a tall man sit all the way down is something I will never get
used to - as much as we do it all the time.

He kisses my face until I giggle, letting out the little girl who always runs to
his arms when her world is on fire. We share a brief kiss before he gets serious.
“I’ll do better.” He finally says.
“You have been saying that for years.”
“And I understand that you have gotten impatient. That’s why I am letting you go,
to do what you want. I’m done being selfish angel face, and I’m sorry.” My heart
stops. Did he give in without a fight?
“But you need to know one thing . . .” His voice commands attention, sending
shivers down my spine. “I own all of you, mind, body and soul. You are mine, angel
face. So, this boy better treat you right. I am back for what’s mine.” I should
have seen that one coming, I guess . . .

‘He slides himself in and does this with ease, given that my body is always ready
to receive him. I let out a breathless moan when he settles, closing my eyes as my
mind attempts to drive me away from his sweet serenade. He quickly notices my
detachment and commands me to look at him. I oblige, come back to the moment, and
immediately see the combination of love and lust in his eyes. I start moving, up
and down, earning my ego an animalistic groan from the man who possesses every bit
of me. He holds my waist firmly and I am under him before I can protest.

“I am going to need you to stop trying to control this, okay?” I nod in response.
“Use your words, my Love.”
“Yes, daddy.”
“Allow me to enjoy you, yes?”
“But-“
“Shhhhh,” he breathes.

He pulls out and drives all the way in once again. His strokes are slow and timed,
out with each inhalation and in as he exhales. He communicates a message to my
soul, claiming it as his.
“You are amazing,” “good girl,” and him moaning make it hard to last for long.

“Daddy,” is the only word I can call out when I feel my peak nearing. My walls
tighten around him.
“You’re gonna cum for me?”
I whimper, words failing me. His gaze has me weakened and with the sound of his
voice, he is in control.

“Let go, baby.” I cry out literal tears as he makes love to me through my orgasm.
He declares his love as he deposits his seed in my canal, kissing my wet face.’

My phone rings. It is muffled, and sounds so far away. I slowly open my eyes and
take in my surroundings. We are on the carpet, my body enveloped in his. Thank God
for faux fur. I smile because it took him so long to understand that I needed to be
encased in his arms at all times. The phone goes off again, and I gently remove
myself from him. It is pouring outside and honestly speaking, I don’t want to leave
his side. His eyes open to slits and he kisses my lips. I deepen the kiss, grinding
myself against him. It is safe to say that I picked my poison with this man.
“Phone,” I say, recalling why I woke up before allowing myself to be carried away.

He lets me go with difficulty and goes back to his slumber. I kiss his cheek, put
on his hoodie which is twice the size of a dress on me and walk to the living room.

It rings a fifth time by the time I reach it, this time following a gentle knock on
my door. I do not bother checking to see who could be calling as I answer while
opening the door.

“Hey,” his voice echoes over the phone. My heart is in my throat and every bit of
sleep I had washes away. What to do, what to do, what to do . . .

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