I was a bit of a work-a-holic; I understood that as being a part if my flaws but I did what I had to because I liked the comfortable way of living that it had afforded me. I’m a trained designer and enjoyed the hands on work running a printing and design company. My work ethic didn’t sit well with most of my previous lovers who tirelessly complained of my lack of personal time or more specifically not loving them as I loved those “damn machines”.

So I usually found myself settling for encounters, some lasting for several months on end but never anything with longevity. Being twenty-five at the time I didn’t mind that women came and went all that much since my focus was on building my business. At that time it seemed almost like everyone within my age group had either settled in their life and were now enjoying it or wasn’t ready to settle at all. I on the other hand, being the perfectionist, never found anything I felt was good enough and kept working towards this imaginary perfect life that everyone else seemed to have already found or just didn’t care about.

Although most of my socializing would involve work one way or the other, I managed somehow to find myself involved with someone, Donna Parkins, and we were now at that old familiar stage of complaints. My assistant normally kept me covered on the make up gifts; she selects the jewelry and flowers depending on the level of anger. We’ve even worked in those “just because” phone calls and “flowers for no reason” into our routine, but lady love was a lot more difficult to sooth. To think of it, I wasn’t making much of an effort at home to sooth her either.

She’s older than the ones I normally passed time with, nine years my senior to be exact. She holds a good position at a reputable financial institution and is the proud mother of a beautiful five year old, our son Stevie. Our courtship was traditional, slow and romantic lasting several months before we became intimate. An obvious change of pace compared to the previous women. We had a different level of understanding, communication, respect and intimacy. At that point the pace of the relationship fitted perfectly with my work ethics.

However things changed, drastically in my opinion but she differs. Our minor bickering became major arguments filled with accusations with that old rhythm of not making time for her and the life we had planned on leading together. I was being accused of having affairs with women half her age, to wanting to leave or simply having no remorse in regards to her feelings. I dealt with it by walking away, maybe a few times to many but for me it worked better than talking to her. Each time I walked away I was taking pieces of her patience with me and slowly shutting down the communication that was once perfect.

The affairs were true, but they happened during the earlier stage of our relationship. I traveled often and kept the occasional mistress in different countries. But when the relationship became more serious, the mistresses were dismissed. I’ve never allowed that part of my life to interfere with her but somehow her brand of women’s intuition played its role.

It wasn’t easy being with her, but I accepted that challenge when I started courting Donna. She was my trophy that I proudly displayed in front of men and women her age. Although she played the role of trophy wife so well in public, now we were always finding ourselves on opposite ends of the room. But she was still as stunning and refined a woman just as she was the first time I laid eyes on her; many of my male colleagues would still jump at the opportunity to engage her.

Normally my eyes sought her out in any room but they stopped searching like they use to. We had reached the point where words seem useless and a kiss seems routine. Sex wasn’t even thought of anymore, at least not openly, and her touch is as cold as ice.

We tried being intimate on different occasions, either rejection or the inability to become aroused quickly ended each attempt. I’ve held her stiff body in my arms and tried to sleep as if everything was normal between us. Seven and a half years, of which the last felt so wasted. Occasionally we slept in separate beds; Stevie would take notice and would asked questions. She’d never respond and I would lie, but at that time I always thought that it would pass, and things would work themselves out.

I remember the evening it happened. Although I knew something needed to happen, I wasn’t fully prepared for how it would take place. I got home earlier than I normally did just to be there as she walked in but she was there already, waiting.

“Your home early,” she snapped as I walked into our bedroom.

All I could do was look at her without emotion. “Where’s Stevie,” I asked.

“He’s at my mother’s.” Donna was habitual with certain things and I’ve learned that whenever our child was out of the house and with her mother something would happen and mostly it was serious.

“That’s good because I need to talk to you. I can’t do this with you any more. I refuse to stay with a woman who doesn’t even know how I feel anymore. A year is long enough.” I blurted out.

“You,” she yelled. “I’ve dealt with your bullshit all this time and all you can think of is you. All your fucking around and saying your working late, you thought I didn’t know? Fuck you, Cyan.”

“Fuck me? When was the last time you did that? Seven and a half fucking years supporting you and a child--and fuck you is what I get?"

“You didn’t have to support me or him, I make damn good money. He's not yours," she screamed.

The only thing I could hear was her saying he wasn’t mine. Damn you Donna I was there through everything, everyday. How dare she try to hit me with something as low as that? “Fuck you Donna. How dare you say that? Kiss my ass, you of all people.”

The argument went on for hours; insults flew back and forth across the room. I found myself pounding my fists on tables and punching walls. Room after room we chased each other saying everything possible to hurt each other, forgetting everything that was good between us. She tossed pillows, clothes and jewelry at me. We had never reached this point before. I have never had so much anger for her before, and she never comes at me with so much rage. It felt like it was really over between us.

“I don’t want you no more, I haven’t wanted you in almost a year,” she says calmly with tears in her eyes. “I stayed because of Stevie; I don’t love you Cyan, not like before.”

I’ve never cried in front of her but those words cut so deep. Tears streamed down my face as I stepped back from her.

“You know you feel the same, Cyan. You know it was going to happen. So don’t stand there acting like I’m saying something totally new.”

Was she right? I saw us growing apart. I let it happen--we both did--but it hurt none the less. We were walking away from seven and a half years. As I turned to walk away, I paused, pointed at the door and uttered the last words said that night; “Get out Donna, get out of my house.” We’ve argued before and we’ve both asked the other to leave. No one ever did, they were just words said in in anger. When I returned to the room, she was already gone. I was alone and my regret began.

We spoke briefly for a couple of weeks to each other mainly because of Stevie. We’d reminisce and at times try to figure out how things went wrong. Some days it seemed like it was going well and others felt like that night all over again. Soon after she had left the house completely; taken Stevie and seemed to slowly be limiting the communication between us. I’d say I loved her and apologize continually. Sometimes, she’d whisper she still loved me. Othertimes, she’d cry and hang up.

But I still kept up with my responsibilities and placed child support in a designated account. I got to spend time with him but not with her. It bothered me, but I dealt with it. Even though things ended the way they did, it was hard to let Donna go. I’d been with her so long and deep down I could never stop loving her.

I tried to make myself forget her, but I saw her every time I looked at Stevie. I could always smell the vanilla oil she wore when I held him. I kept a single photograph of her faced down on my desk but I could never lift it up or look at it. I never made any effort to ask her for the keys to the house and never changed the lock.

I didn’t fully accept losing my family and not having my wife. I never took my ring off and wore hers on a necklace around my neck. I prayed that we just needed a break from each other and would eventually be back together. The problem wasn't love. I never stopped loving Donna, but I stopped appreciating her. I regretted the way I spoke to her and for allowing my arrogance to dictate my actions.

This break shouldn’t have happened at all. Maybe I should have talked to her when she said she needed me to. One thing for sure, I wanted her back.

**several months later**

She came home one night. I was asleep when I woke slightly after feeling the bed dip as someone got in behind me. The smell of the vanilla oil she wore was so comforting and soothing. I felt her arm around me; her warm body against mine as her soft lips gently kissed the back of my neck.

“Baby, I need you tonight. I missed you so much,” she whispered.
Relaxing in her arms feeling the safety of familiarity I responded, “I missed you so much Donna. I’m so sorry.”

She rolled me over, straddled me and looked me in the eyes. “I couldn’t stop thinking about everything that night. I don’t want to fight any more; I don’t want to be angry at you, Cyan.” She was wearing my old t-shirt, the one I gave her the first time she ever slept over. I didn’t think she had that shirt anymore, but she still looked good in it, just like the first time.

I sat up and held her tightly; it felt good touching her, just holding on to her filled the emptiness my heart had felt. I could feel her lips brushing against my skin as she kissed my shoulder and made her way up my neck. She held my face in her hands as we kissed deeply. My hands slide slowly under her t-shirt and caressed her warm silky skin. I could feel her becoming moist as her legs wrapped tightly around my waist. Her erect nipples pressed against my breasts as she moaned slightly between my lips while tears slowly trickled down her face.

“Donna, I love you so much,” I whispered between her lips before sucking them lightly.

She slowly pulled back and looked at me. “Then why did you hurt me, Cyan? What did I do for you to shut me out, baby? Why?" I could see the tear forming in her eyes.

“I really want us to work things out, Donna. I need you here at home with Stevie, with me,” I stuttered before pulling her to me. Then, I kissed her with all the passion I had in me.

“I was stupid, and . . . and so stupid . . . I’m sorry . . . I . . . it was entirely fault . . . please,” my stuttering continued before I begun to slowly remove her t-shirt. Her skin felt like warm chocolate melting in my arms, the heat between our bodies grew warmer as our breathing became deeper. Her slow grind felt as inviting as her tongue tracing my lips.

We rolled over onto the bed, her legs wrapped tightly around my body; her hands caressed the back of my head and down my back making her way to the top of the pajama pants I wore to bed that evening. I rose up from her arms, stood at the foot of the bed and took her in for a moment before letting my pants drop to the floor and stepping out of them.

“Turn over baby,” I whispered to her as she calmly complied. I laid my body over hers and begun to slowly kiss the back of her neck while slowly grinding her. Her body arched towards mine as I kissed and licked her from the back of her neck down to the small of her back. She moaned lightly every time my lips met her warm skin.

As I licked as sucked on her firm ass, her legs slowly parted allowing my finger tips to gently glide over her warm and moist nature releasing an enticing aroma that left me intoxicated and eager to take her in my mouth and never let go. She arched her hips inviting me to taste her and moaned louder as the tip of my tongue grazed her ass as she motioned her butt upward.

I kissed her nature gently before sliding my tongue between her swollen lips and reaching her still throbbing clitoris. My tongue, as if possessing a mind of its own, flicked and licked her sensitive pleasure point, my lips massaged her woman-hood as I sucked and pulled on her clit. Each pull a little harder than the last causing her body to jerk lightly from the sensations that traveled from between her legs throughout her body.

I grabbed her thighs preventing her from pulling away and continued sucking on her clitoris. “Baby,” she moaned, “Mmmm, shhhit Cyan.” I continued sucking and licking.
“Your . . . fff . . . baby I’m cuming.” I placed my mouth over as much of her as I could anticipating the taste of her climax. Licking her as her juices flowed, tracing her clit and sex with the tip of my tongue.

Breathing heavily she broke from my grip and lay on her back. I turned to make my way to the dresser and proceeded to prepare for a deeper penetration. “Cyan,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around me. I was so caught up in what I was doing that I never heard her come up behind me. Her body pressed against mine felt so good. I turned, pressed her against the nearby wall, While we kissed, I caressed her full breasts and begun to position myself between her legs rubbing my shaft against her still swollen vagina.

She raised her leg allowing me the opportunity to slide the tip of my extension into her causing her to release a soft moan between my lips. Her nails dug into my shoulders as my extension slid deeper into her. “Baby, I missed making love to you,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around me. Tears began to run from her eyes as she looked me directly in the eye while I entered her at a slowed and steadied pace. I couldn’t close my eyes as we kissed, I didn’t want to, she looked so much more beautiful, more so than she ever did before. Her tears continued, “I loved you so much Cyan,” she whispered between her moans, “Why did you stop loving me?”

Entranced and overwhelmed, I carried my love to the middle of our bedroom and knelt on the floor. I laid her body gently on the carpet and gently laid myself over her. Still crying and looking me directly in the eye, she place one of my hands over her heart and whispered, “Don’t let this good woman go. Baby, don’t let me go.”

I slowing stroked her, never looking away, never moving my hand. Her legs wrapped around me pulling me deeper into her as my body slowly moved against hers, slowing bring her to a physical and emotional climax.

The End

Copyright © 2007. Used by permission of author. All Rights Reserved.

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