He leaves to clean the spill after a brief kiss on my forehead, as I stand here dumbfounded by this response.
I thought we're gonna have some kind of angry s*x -I love that s**t but the only memory I have is the one in New York, when I discovered for the first time ever he's hard without having me making any effort- and there he is, taking his own sweet time wiping the liquid mess with a small kitchen cloth with no hint of angry s*x.
Or any s*x in that matter.
I march to the bedroom as I curse him for being so calm about it, for obeying what I wanted without a fight. Can't he say something like I will not apologise for what I did because I want to show you to the world. I want to show the world my world.
Me, I'm supposed to be his world.
But noooo, he's gotta do the boring s**t, to ju
