This is My Confession

The only thing better than nights with Chelsea were mornings. We were in the middle of my king-sized bed. I sat up with her in my lap. It was something about how the sun shined in through the window and kissed her skin. It was at that moment I realized I didn’t want her to go back to Tampa at the end of the week. I struggled with it.

My hands caressed her back as she moved her hips. Our rhythms matched. Her lips pressed onto mine. Seconds went by and then minutes. Our hearts raced. She gasped and threw her head back, “Fuck babe, I’m cumming.”

She didn’t have to tell me. I could feel her walls pulsating on my shaft. It felt wonderful. It was my sign to take over. I flipped and end up on top, one leg over my shoulder as I looked down on my queen. I worked her middle until she squealed and came again. I smiled. As much as I loved being on the island with Chelsea, having her to myself felt like a dream come true.

I didn’t have to wait. She was all mine. We made love twice a day. My brother said it was like that in the beginning. Couples often couldn’t get enough of each other. But I had been in relationships before. I genuinely loved being with her.

She was funny. She had dreams She was successful. She was business minded. She was financially responsible. She loved kids and wanted them.

As I continued to stroke her precious middle, I had to contend with the idea that she had to go back to Tampa and there would be some fallout behind what I did. That fucking e-mail. I moved her leg off my shoulder and pressed my chest to hers. I looked into her eyes, “Babe just know that I love you.”

Her face lit up, “I know, babe.”

I kissed her lips and filled her with my cum. I longed for the day that act would create a life but in the interim, I was happy she was there with me.

*******

As Chelsea showered, I headed downstairs to get breakfast started. My house started to feel like a home. My father told me that when you find a good woman, give her a house and she’d make it a home. A place you wanted to be.

My living room had furniture. A gray sectional sofa with a chaise lounge on one end, with a bunch of throw pillows, two blankets for our movie nights in front of the large screen tv she had mounted to the wall, all this beautiful African and Latin inspired artwork on the walls, a coffee table, a recliner, a rug.

I made my way to the kitchen and prepared to cook. My cellphone rang. It was Asif, “Hermano!” I said excitedly.

“How are things? We miss you two on the island.”

“We miss you guys too. Things are great.”

“Good to hear. Naomi is having her birthday party next month. We were hoping you two could come back for a week.”

“I’ll ask Chelsea. I’m sure she’s fine with it. And how are you and your girl?”

“Not bad actually. She’s coming to the party.”

“Wow, that’s great Asif. I’m glad to hear you two or working on things.”

“Yeah. And what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yes. Have you told Chelsea about the email thing?”

“Uh, why’d you bring that up?”

“Bro just be honest. You don’t want him to be able to use it against you. Tell her.”

I nodded, “Yeah, you’re right. Today. Alright man, let me make my queen some breakfast.”

“Take care man. Send Chelsea my love.”

“Will do.”

I sighed. That was a reality that I had to deal with. I was lost in thought when I felt her soft hand on my shoulder, “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah,” I pulled the eggs out of the refrigerator, “say, babe.” I looked over and saw her sitting at the table by the three windows. She looked angelic.

“Yes, babe?”

“I have something to confess.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, “Oh my god, what?”

I walked over to where she sat and reached for her hand. She stood. I looked down into her brown eyes. I blew out a puff of air, “Um, just remember that I love you and I want the best for you. For us.”

“Christian. Just say what it is.”

“Okay. Okay. Um, back when we were on the island. You know your guy, your ex, or whatever.”

She eyed me suspiciously, “Ashton. What about him?”

“He sent you an email.”

She made a face, “No. I didn’t get an email from him.”

“I know because I kind of accidentally deleted it.”

It was quiet. She stared at me. My stomach was in a knot, “babe, say something.”

She shook her head, “So this is what we do? We don’t trust each other?”

“No, babe, it’s not. I do trust you. I was just. I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I just—”

“If we’re going to be together, I need you to trust me. Don’t do stuff like that. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Right. I apologize from the depths of my soul. Te lo juro.”

Her lips curled and she gave me a little punch in the belly, “Make my breakfast. I’m hungry.”

“Are we good?”

“Sure. But I will have to put you on punishment for a few days.”

“What?!” Chelsea quit playing.” I pulled her in and kissed those full lips, “You can’t make me go that long.”

“You’re right. I can’t.” Her fingers played I my hair. We kissed for a while. It was done. My confession was out there. I felt better. It felt better. We could move forward without any secrets.

*****

Thursday night, I took Chelsea out to dinner. As we sat having a good conversation, my cell phone rang. It was my cousin, Armando. As I sat listening to him, my neck got hot. He told me that that fucking asshole ex-boyfriend of Chelsea had shown up at the barber shop demanding information about getting in touch with me.

That they had to ban him from going to the barber shop after how badly he acted. After I told Chelsea she was upset. She called her friend in Tampa. Her friend said that Ashton was acting wild. That he lost his job, had to move in with his mom, lost one of his best friends, and was still fucking up by the numbers.

His friend said it wasn’t a good idea for her to return to Tampa until Ashton was in a better place. I agreed with her friend. So, Chelsea stayed in Orlando with me.