Closing my eyes, I let myself give in. When she comes here, would she still be my good girl, letting me play with her until I’m satisfied? Then again, I never would be satiated. I don’t just need her body; I want to have her craving me when we’re apart, to imprint myself on her as she did to me all those years ago. More than that, I want her to be mine again.
As I let out a deep sigh, I resist gripping my throbbing cock at the thought. I purposefully didn’t add the essential oil blend I had created a few years ago that smells exactly like her. Now I wish I had added it to the water, if only to pretend she was here. I miss her fighting me during the day, then on her knees begging when we were alone. Her fire was just as addictive as her submission.
Screw it. I’ve fucked my hand to the thought of her hundreds of times. What’s one more?
Sliding my fist up and down my length, I selfishly imagine it’s her, kneeling before me as she licks from my heavy balls to thetip. Her bright brown doe eyes looking up at me, she’d need me to fill that smart mouth of hers. I’d make her wait, just like I did when we were younger. Back then, I always wanted her to come at least three times before I dared to sink myself inside her. Now, I’d make her count to ten.
It doesn’t take long to find a rhythm that has me coming hard and fast, with her name spilling from my lips. My eyes fly wide, and I sit up straighter. I can’t keep doing this, torturing myself with a memory. I’d give up everything, if it meant there was even the smallest chance of keeping her. But how the fuck am I supposed to win her back? We aren’t kids anymore.
I drain the tub and rinse off. No matter how much my cock protests, I don’t go for a round two. This is bigger than jerking off again to the idea of a hypothetical. Olivia and I were always supposed to be together. Period. And it’s about time I did something about it.
Checking the time, I could pull an all-nighter, brainstorming ways to win over a woman who doesn’t want or need me. Or I could be a sensible man and go to bed early.
I’m not a sensible man.
Once I’m dried off and dressed, I climb into bed with my laptop and search:ways to win back the love of your life after fifteen years.It yields very few helpful results.
HOW TO WIN BACK AN EX IN THREE EASY STEPS
I click on it, but it’s behind a paywall. I try the next one.
TEN GIFTS YOUR EX WON’T LAUGH ABOUT WITH HER THREE-PERSON GROUP CHAT
Also, incredibly useless. It may as well include a romantic comedy guide for men who have no clue what they’re doing—which would actually be helpful, since I, in fact, have absolutely no fucking clue what I’m doing.
After a scroll, I find one that might do the trick.
MASTERING THE DRUNK TEXT WITH YOUR EX
If only I could tell when she’s drinking, I could text first.
A little drunk flirting never hurt anyone…
I try another.
QUIZ: WHICH TOXIC EX-BOYFRIEND ARE YOU?
It’s so incredibly fucked up, but I click anyway.
Question 1: Who is at fault for the break-up?
Me
My ex
Neither, it was amicable
