I lay on my bed, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, my body still humming from the pleasure I had just given myself. My legs were slightly parted, the warmth between them still lingering. My fingers traced lazy circles on my skin as I caught my breath, eyes half-lidded in the afterglow. The silence in the room felt heavier, thick with longing and memories.

 

I reached over to my nightstand and pulled open the drawer where I kept my collection of toys. My fingers brushed against something unfamiliar, something that didn’t belong to the cool silicone and smooth plastic. I pulled it out. It was a card, slightly worn at the edges, with a faint trace of his cologne still lingering on it.

 

My heart stuttered as I turned it over, reading the familiar slant of his handwriting.

 

Tonight, I’m going to take it slow and savour every curve on your sweet body.

 

My breath hitched. Beneath the note, in bold strokes, was his name: Kelvin.

A sharp pang of desire and heartbreak tangled together inside me. I remembered the night I received this card; it was my last birthday with him. The note had been tucked inside the box of a new toy he had gifted me, a promise of the pleasure we would explore together.

I could still feel his hands on me, firm yet gentle, the way he traced every inch of my skin like he was memorising it. He had a way of making me feel completely bare, even when I was clothed. Kelvin didn’t just touch my body; he knew it, studied it, worshipped it. Every gasp, every arch of my back, every shiver; I never had to tell him what I wanted; he already knew. And God, the way he looked at me right before he lost himself in pleasure. That intense, burning gaze that sent shivers down my spine.

 

My fingers trembled as I ran them over the card again. It had been six months since he left, six long months of trying to fill a void that no one else could. I had been with other men since then, but none of them came close. Their touches felt empty; their kisses lacked the depth and passion Kelvin had spoiled me with. They didn’t know how to handle me the way he did, how to push me right to the edge and pull me back to do it all over again.

 

I sighed, rolling onto my back and staring at the ceiling. Why did he leave? He never gave me a reason, never offered an explanation. There is no closure, no goodbye, just silence. And no matter how much I tried to move on, a part of me still belonged to him.

 

I closed my eyes, letting the memories wash over me. The nights spent wrapped in his arms, the way he’d trail kisses down my spine in the morning, the way he’d pull me onto his lap, his hands exploring, claiming—the way he made me feel seen, desired, cherished. More than the pleasure, more than the way he made my body come alive, it was the connection that haunted me. The feeling of truly being understood and wanted not just for my body but for everything I was.

 

My fingers traced the hem of my nightshirt absentmindedly, my skin heating at the memory of him. But just as quickly as the pleasure built, the ache of his absence took over. I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to push the thoughts away.

 

And then, just as I was about to pull myself from the haze of nostalgia, my phone vibrated on the nightstand. The sound sliced through the quiet, pulling me back to the present.

I reached for it, my pulse skittering as I read the name on the screen.

 

Kelvin.

 

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My thumb hovered over the screen, my heart pounding against my ribs. I swallowed hard before opening the message.

 

I haven’t stopped thinking about you.

 

My breath caught in my throat. I reread the words, my mind racing, my body betraying me as heat pooled low in my stomach. I wanted to be angry, I wanted to ignore the message, but the truth was, I hadn’t stopped thinking about him either.

 

Dorcas Akintoye
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Dorcas Akintoye is a versatile writer with a passion for beauty, fashion, relationships, and culinary delight. With a keen eye for detail and a passion for storytelling, she adds a touch of elegance to every topic she explores. She is a writer at THEWILL DOWNTOWN.