I Fought For The Sex
Read to the end for SugarHey Swēt, I have a confession, my ex and I used to pick fights just to get to the makeup sex, and years later he is still the standard.
I love a jealous guy. Not a little jealous, properly, calls-me-fifteen-times, wants-to-know-who-that-boy-is jealous. Toxic behaviour, I know. But it turns me on because I'm addicted to make-up smashing, and if we're not fighting there's nothing to make up.
There was one fight that spanned four days.
Neither of us texting, neither of us calling. Day four he sent one message. Two words. "Outside now."
I made him wait fifteen minutes. Went upstairs, put on the sundress with the buttons down the front, nothing underneath, applied the lipstick I know he hates. Came down.
He was in the driver's seat, didn't smile, didn't greet. His cologne caught me the second I entered, Swēt, that alone made me wet. He drove without saying a word, hand on the wheel, jaw set. Ten minutes later he turned down an old road behind Ikeja GRA, no streetlights, one huge tree overhanging the road, parked.
He looked at me. Then he pulled me in and kissed me like he'd been trying not to for four days.
The explicit rest is gated.
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