14. Chapter 14

"Mrs. Reyes, please, you should eat something," Anna pleads for what feels like the hundredth time as she stands in the doorway of Dean's dorm-like room. My eyes scan the room, taking in every detail… not that there's really much of it. A double bed sits in the centre, a tall set of drawers opposite it, and a comfortable two-seater sofa tucked into one corner. The walls are bare and painted a crisp white.

Anna walks through the doorway holding a dark grey tray adorned with a freshly made sandwich and a small bottle of orange juice. Her long tan legs peek out from beneath her short skirt, adding to the allure of her slim figure. Her silky blonde hair cascades down her back, shining in the soft light that filters through the window. But it is her eyes that truly captivate me; crystal clear blue, yet with a hint of mischief lurking behind their kind expression. She is breathtakingly beautiful, more suited for the cover of a fashion magazine or gracing the runways of New York City than working as an assistant to the Chief of Air.

I can't help but wonder why such a stunning girl would choose to work as an assistant in the RAF when she could have had a more fulfilling career than spending her day serving a seemingly grouchy older man. I mean, there are certainly worse jobs than spending day in, day out ogling strong, attractive fighter pilots in uniform.

Inwardly I silent my musings and resume my restless pacing, my mind too consumed with worry to spend too much time focusing on anything but getting my son back safe and sound.

"Why is it taking so long? They've been talking for over two hours now," I mutter anxiously as I stride across the room, wringing my fingers. The tension in the room is palpable and my heart is beating faster with each passing minute. Why isn't Dean back yet? Could they have gotten some news about DJ? Maybe they know where he is and they're devising a plan to get him back.

God, please let that be the case.

"Oh, this is normal. Their briefs can go on for some time. If you continue to pace like that, you'll burn a hole right through the floor before their done," Anna quips blithely clearly trying to lighten the mood and I fix her with a blank stare. "Perhaps if you sit and eat something you'll feel a little better?" she suggests with a shrug.

"I highly doubt that, Anna. Look, I appreciate your efforts to try and make me feel comfortable, I really do, but eating a sandwich isn't going to magically fix my problems or somehow erase this crippling fear and worry inside me that my innocent baby boy may have been killed or is currently being tortured by some deranged thug who wants to kill my husband. It's been hours, there must be an update by now, surely? I can't just sit here anymore. I need to know what is going on." And with that I make a beeline for the door behind Anna. However, as I lean forward to reach out to pull the handle and open it, the door suddenly swings open almost hitting me in the face.

With a startled gasp, I step back and am met with the sight of Dean standing in the doorway, his imposing figure filling it almost completely. My eyes widen as I take in his strong, muscular frame, but my focus is quickly drawn to the look of sheer exhaustion etched on his face. A sharp pain tightens in my chest as I meet his gaze, searching for some form of hope, but finding only weariness and distress staring back at me. As he walks further into the room, my heart races with anticipation and worry.

Dean's eyes shift from mine to Anna, who stands off to the side holding the tray of untouched food. "Thank you, Anna," he speaks softly, taking the tray from her and relieving her of her 'babysitting' duty.

Anna nods graciously. "No problem, Captain Reyes. It's lovely to meet you, Mrs Reyes." She exits the room, closing the door behind her and leaving Dean and I alone.

My attention turns back to Dean as he strolls over to the bed, sets the tray of food on top of it and rubs the back of his neck wearily. While I'm watching him, I can't help but wonder what news he has received and what plans are in place now.

"You've been gone a while." I state, studying his tired expression closely. "Please tell me there's some news, Dean."

Dean nods, his hands rubbing wearily over his stubbled face. His tired eyes flicker with a mixture of exhaustion and resolve as he speaks. "Yeah, sorry," he says with a heavy sigh. "It's been a long and gruelling task sifting through all the intel." He takes a deep breath, steadying himself before revealing the crucial information they've finally uncovered. "But we've managed to pinpoint Lukin's whereabouts and where he's holding DJ. We're just waiting for the green light from our sources to proceed with the rescue mission. Hopefully it won't be much longer now." He explains as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small object. My gaze drops and I see that it's a photo. Dean looks at it for a moment before handing it to me. "This was sent a couple hours ago."

My trembling fingers reach out and take the photo from him. As soon as my eyes fall on it, my heart clenches in my chest. Tears well up in my eyes as I gasp. It's a photo of my baby boy, lying on his back in a travel crib with a soft yellow blanket adorned with ducks covering his tiny body.

Relief washes over me like a tidal wave, and I can't help but cry tears of joy and gratitude. My son is alive. I hold the photo close to my chest, allowing myself to fully feel the weight of the moment. The fear and worry that has been consuming me since DJ was ripped away from me eases as I whisper, "He's alive." I press the photo against my heart and offer up a prayer, "God, please keep my baby safe until he's back in my arms."

Dean walks over to me and pulls me into his arms. "He will be, JJ," he reassures me. "I know you have no reason to believe this, but DJ will be back in your arms very soon, I promise you." I look at Dean with tear-stained cheeks and nod slowly.

"Now you know DJ is okay, please eat something and try to get some rest. There's a bathroom right outside with a shower, and towels are in the cupboard by the window there. Feel free to use any of the t-shirts in the first drawer." He avoids looking directly at me as he speaks. "I have some work to do, but if you need anything, I'll be down the hall, two doors to the right."

Dean walks towards the door, leaving me alone in his room with a collection of his belongings. Despite the unfamiliar setting, I feel safe and grateful for the space. I quickly change into one of Dean's t-shirts and settle onto the bed, my mind still reeling from the emotional rollercoaster of the day.

I close my eyes and whisper a fervent prayer for my son's safety, exhaustion weighing heavily on my body. In the darkness, I can hear the sound of rain pattering against the window, a steady rhythm that lulls me into a fitful sleep.

It feels like only five minutes have passed when I am jolted awake by a sharp bang that echoes through the room. My heart races with panic and my stomach clenches as I strain to identify the source of the sound. It seems to be coming from somewhere close by, and the window rattles in its frame with the force of it.

What could be causing such a loud, strident noise?

My confusion turns to relief as a bright flash of lightning illuminates the room, followed by another loud rumble of thunder. The storm must be right on top of us, and I can't help but let out a sigh of relief that it's just a natural occurrence and not something more sinister. Though I've never been a fan of thunderstorms, especially ones that feel so close you can almost touch them. Picking up my phone that I left by the pillow I check the time and see it's four in the morning. Jesus, I've only been asleep for over an hour.

Where the hell is Dean? Why isn't he back yet?

I look around the room. The sandwich sits uneaten on the tray where Dean left it. The bread now hard and stale. The thought alone of food has my stomach rolling unpleasantly. There is no way I'm going to sleep now so I slide out of bed and pull my jeans and trainers on and walk out of the room on the hunt for my husband.

I remember him saying he would be two doors down the corridor, so I head there first. I press my ear against the door, listening for any movement or sound from the other side but it's dead silent. Lifting my hand, I knock a couple of times and wait patiently for him to answer or beckon me in, but I get neither. Maybe he's asleep? My fingers find the door handle and I slowly push it down and open the door quietly, peeking through the crack I see the bed is still made and there is no sign of Dean.

A sense of unease settles in the pit of my stomach.

Where the hell are you, Dean?

As the heavy door clicks shut behind me, I lean against it and breathe out a heavy sigh. The long corridor ahead is dimly lit, casting eerie shadows that seem to dance along the walls. Shall I go looking for him or stay put and hope he returns soon? My mind races with worry, not wanting to cause any more trouble for him by wandering around unsupervised. After all, we are on a military airbase, and I highly doubt they would take kindly to an unauthorized visitor snooping through restricted areas.

The air feels charged with tension, and I can't seem to shake off the unease creeping up my spine. Shall I risk it and venture off on my own, or trust that he will return soon? Maybe I can find someone to help me locate him or ask around. I'm sure someone will know where he is. Deciding on the latter I manage to find my way outside, retracing the steps with Anna earlier. The rain is coming down hard and I shiver when the cool air hits me and I wrap my arms tighter around myself while I seek out anyone to help me find Dean.

In the distance, my ears pick up the sound of voices and I instinctively follow it. Through the haze of smoke, I spot two young men in crisp cadet uniforms engaged in casual conversation. As I approach, they turn to look at me with identical expressions of surprise.

"Excuse me," I interrupt, drawing their attention. "I'm looking for Dean. Have you seen him or know where he might be?"

"Dean?" one of them repeats, an Irish twang in his voice. "You'll have to be more specific, darlin'. We've got a few Deans round here." He grins and flashes me his pearly whites.

"Reyes," I roll my eyes. "I'm looking for Captain Reyes."

"Ahh, you must be Bullseye's missus," the other cadet chimes in, giving me a once-over with an appreciative look. One I certainly do not appreciate. "Now I understand why the ole boy couldn't stay away. Hell, I wouldn't either." His words are laced with a hint of teasing flirtation and I can feel my skin prickle with discomfort.

I choose to ignore his flirty remark and ask, "I'm sorry? Bullseye ?"

They both nod, "He's in the hanger with his baby." The shorter one voices and cocks his head to the side smiling mischievously, "Or shall I say his other baby." Not liking his suggestive tone, I bite the inside of my cheek as I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him, my expression grim, and the smarmy git responds with an amused laugh.

"Lucas, shut the fuck up. Have some damn respect. You're talking to the Captain's wife. Come on, I'll take you to him." The politer one of the two says as he puts his cigarette out and gestures for me to follow him.

God, I would like to see Dean sock him in the mouth for making suggestive remarks. Also, what the hell did he mean by ‘ his other baby' which other baby is he referring to?

I mutter under my breath as I warily follow him through the airbase. We round the corner where all the jets are lined up. I admire the aircrafts in awe as we pass by them. Each one more magnificent than the last.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" I nod and he sighs, "There are only two places a man goes to ease his woes around here. One is the gym, and for us pilots it's right there." He points ahead, and I follow his finger; sure enough I see Dean sitting on the wing of a jet, his eyes cast down, a look of defeat on his handsome face.

"Thank you..." I look down at his name tag, "Killian." He smiles and salutes before walking off. With a sigh I stroll over to where Dean is and look up at him. As usual his senses are sharp because his eyes lift to mine.

"Hey there, Bullseye, you got space for one more up there?" I ask.

Dean's brows furrow, forming a deep 'v' as he watches me approach. His intense gaze follows my every move, like that of a hawk honing in on its prey. "What are you doing out here, JJ?" His voice is low and steady, betraying the concern in his tone.

I meet his unwavering stare and state simply, "Looking for you. Can I come up there or…"

Dean nods and shifts, gesturing towards the narrow ladder by the cockpit. "Use those steps," he instructs, pointing with a strong hand. I follow his guidance and begin to climb, feeling slightly nervous at being so high up on the wing of the plane. Dean shuffles closer as I ascend, extending a hand to help me onto the smooth metal surface.

"Watch your step," he warns, his grip tightening on my hand. But before he can finish cautioning me, I lose my footing and almost slip backwards on the damp surface. My heart races as I feel myself falling, but Dean reacts quickly and pulls me towards him, catching me in his lap. I land awkwardly against him, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment. My body still aches dully from the attack, but I do my darndest to keep the look of pain from my face. I don't need Dean to start fussing over me again.

"Are you alright?" Dean's voice is laced with genuine concern as he looks down at me and brushes a strand of my damp hair away, his eyes scanning my face.

I nod, feeling grateful for his quick reflexes. He helps me to sit up next to him on the wing, and I glance down at the ground far below us. A shiver runs down my spine at the realization of how high up we truly are. If Dean hadn't caught me, I would have fallen to certain injury and cracked my head open like a walnut.

"You don't realize until you get up here how massive and intimidating these planes really are," I say softly, voicing my thoughts.

Dean's deep green eyes meet mine and we share a moment of understanding, perched atop the airplane's wing as raindrops patter around us. The tension is palpable between us, crackling like electricity in the air. "It wasn't safe for you to come out here. As you just witnessed, it can be dangerous. I told you to stay put and get some rest."

I shrug nonchalantly, avoiding his gaze as I swing my legs back and forth over the edge of the wing. "I know, and I did manage to catch some sleep, but..." A sudden flash of lightning followed by a loud clap of thunder startles me, causing my fingers to grip the edge of the wing. But instead, they land on top of Dean's hand. "Is it really safe for us to be up here? Doesn't lightning strike metal? Won't we be struck by lightning sitting up here?"

Dean's lips curl into a half-smile as he watches me with amusement and shakes his head. "No, metal doesn't attract lightning, but it can conduct it. That's why the roof is made of Rhino Steel, so it's completely safe during a storm. And our jets are equipped with advanced lightning protection systems, utilizing special bonding and grounding techniques. These measures ensure that even if there is a direct hit, the current will safely travel through the aircraft's exterior surfaces and dissipate into the atmosphere." Dean explains and I nod in understanding, my anxiety easing enough that my shoulders that are bunched loosen slightly. "Did the storm wake you?"

I nod, "It did, you know I'm not fond of it. Especially when I'm alone."

Dean nods, licking his lips as he shifts his gaze to look ahead. My fingers are still resting atop of his. It's not until his thumb lightly brushes against mine that I notice and welcome the soothing effect it has on my nerves.

"I know." Dean answers quietly. "Do you remember the night we had the lightning storm in Maldives while we were on our honeymoon?" My face heats up and I force myself to nod and meet Dean's gaze when he turns his head to look at me.

"Yes, of course I remember. They said it was one of the worst storms they have ever had. It went on for hours."

Dean hums, "Mhm, and so did we."

I hold his gaze, we stare at one another intently. "We did. I'm almost certain that was the night we conceived DJ." Dean smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"It could have been, or it could have been when I slow fucked you twice on the hammock." Despite the chill of the breeze against my damp skin I feel a heat ignite deep inside and slowly start to consume me. How does he always manage to do this to me?

"I still can't fathom what it is about thunderstorms that get you so hot and bothered."

"Hm, I can't really explain it," he chuckles softly, shrugging in response. "It's hard to explain," he admits with a sly grin, "There's just something so primal and electrifying about fucking or making love during a storm." The memory of our steamy moments during our honeymoon flood back to me as he speaks. "The sound of the rain pouring outside, while we're hot and tangled in a sweaty mess. The sudden flash of lightning that illuminates the room for a split second giving us fleeting glimpses or each other, followed by the low rumble of thunder mixing with our quiet pants and moans. It's the feeling of being completely lost in each other, unable to focus on anything but that overwhelming pleasure building between us." His words send shivers cascading down my spine, and I can't help but yearn for another passionate stormy night with him.

The longing to be in Dean's arms and feel his lips against mine consumes me. The tension and frustration between us is palpable, the desire simmering just below the surface. I can't help but imagine him taking me right there on the wing of his beloved jet, our bodies pressed together in a passionate embrace. The thought alone is enough to make my breath quicken, and my lace underwear dampen. I know it would be reckless and could get us both into trouble, but the thrill of the possibility only makes me want it more. With each passing second that we stare at one another, I can feel my control waning, eager to surrender to Dean's touch as he drives himself deep inside me. As I gaze into those deep, emerald eyes shimmering with desire, I can see he's thinking the same as I am. Still, the sturdy metal beneath us seems to beckon, tempting us to act on our desires despite the risks.

Fucking hell, get a grip Jeyla. I need to change the subject and fast.

I nervously clear my throat, breaking eye contact with Dean. "So... Bullseye? What's the story behind that?" I ask, trying to lighten the mood and disperse the tension.

Dean's lips curve into a confident smile as he looks ahead again. "It's my call sign," he explains.

My curiosity is sparked and I can't resist asking, "But why 'Bullseye'?"

His response is simple, yet it carries a force of significance. "Because I never miss."

My brows shoot up in surprise.

Of course. The nickname fits him perfectly. This is the man who defied all odds and got me pregnant when doctors said it was impossible. He truly lives up to his name in every sense of the word. Tilting my head I study him for a long moment, and he returns the gaze—unflinching—before shifting his attention to his hands. Fingers trace over an old, scabbed wound.

"Well, I can certainly attest to the fact that you do not indeed miss." Dean picks up on my expressive tone as he lays on his back and flashes me a roguish smile.

There's a long suffocating pause that lingers between us. I feel like I'm getting whiplash with all the change of emotions flying around. Sighing, I mimic his action and lay down beside him, so our heads are side by side, but our bodies are facing opposite directions. The rain continues to beat down on the steel ceiling, the sound soothing as I stare up thoughtfully. "So, what happens now?" I ask.

"We wait for the green light, and I go and get our son."

My eyes flutter shut as a heavy weight suddenly presses down on my chest, making it nearly impossible to draw a full breath. Relief floods through me that DJ is safe and soon in my arms again, but at the same time, fear claws at my insides at the thought of what Dean is about to face and losing him all over again.

Unspoken words lay heavy on my tongue, threatening to spill out in a bad case of verbal diarrhoea. Deep down I know I can't keep them locked inside any longer. Not when I'm faced against the possibility of never seeing him again if this operation goes sideways.

This could be our last chance to truly speak our hearts to each other. I bite down on my lip to keep the tears I can feel coming at bay. "I'm sorry for the hurtful things I said to you earlier." I apologise and wait for him to say something, but he remains quiet. "You may not have been there for DJ, but that doesn't diminish your role as his father. You are and always will be his father in every way that matters. I was blinded by my fear of losing him and lashed out at you. But you didn't deserve that—not when you've sacrificed and continue to sacrifice everything to protect us." A lump forms in my throat as I speak, my voice trembling with the emotions I'm fighting to keep back.

"I didn't mean it when I said you should have stayed dead. How could I when all I prayed for every night was to have you back… even if it was for a minute."

I hear Dean heave a heavy sigh beside me, his voice thick with emotion. "You don't have to apologise to me, JJ. Your feelings are completely justified." I can feel the weight of his words and his guilt hanging in the air between us. "When I asked you to marry me, I made a promise to spend every waking moment making you happy and I failed to keep that promise… I failed you." The sadness in his voice is evident, and my heart breaks for him. "All I've done is cause you an immeasurable amount of pain and put you, our son, and my family in great danger. Every word you said, you were right." He takes a deep breath before continuing, "I should have stayed dead and allowed you to move on and done everything in my power to keep you all out of this mess." Tears well up in my eyes as he acknowledges my pain and regret fills his voice. "At the time I thought I was doing the right thing. I convinced myself that I was doing it to protect you, but thinking back now I was just being selfish."

I want to turn my head so I can see him, but something inside me tells me to keep still and let him talk. "I saw an opportunity to step back into my old life. An opportunity to see you and DJ and I took it without considering the ramifications." I close my eyes and try to picture a future without Dean, and it fills me with such pain. "If I had just stayed away and left you all to believe I was dead none of this would have happened." He continues on. "So, if anyone needs to apologise here it's me."

His vulnerability breaks through any anger or resentment I've been holding onto. Tears roll down the side of my face as he speaks. "I'm truly sorry for everything, and most importantly for not being the husband you deserved." Fuck, his words cut me deep. Every word is a painful reminder of all that we've been through and all that we still have left to endure. I know he means every word, and of course, my heart is ready to forget all the suffering and is jumping at the chance to forgive him. "I want you to know that I am going to do everything I can to make this right, JJ."

Gently shaking my head, I sit up and spin around to face Dean. My mind is reeling with conflicting emotions as I look into his intense gaze. "But at what cost, Dean?" I ask, my voice trembling. He sits up as well, turning to fully face me. The moonlight casts a soft glow on his features, highlighting the worry lines that crease his forehead. "You're going to risk everything to save DJ and bring him home safely," I continue, my heart aching at the thought of losing either of them. "But what happens to you? Will I still lose you in the end?" Tears gather in my eyes, threatening to spill over. Without hesitation, Dean draws closer and presses his forehead against mine. His thumb tenderly brushes away the tears that trickle down my cheeks. "No matter the outcome, I will still lose," I whisper sadly, feeling the weight of our fragile situation bearing down on us both. "Can you promise me that you'll come home?"

"JJ, you know I can't do that, baby girl," he whispers back, his lips a breath away from mine. "But I can promise that I will fight like hell to come back home." Dean offers a faint smile and gently drags the pad of his thumb across my lower lip. I search his eyes and despite his best effort to reassure me, I can see the hopelessness embedded deep in his eyes. "In any case, I need you to be prepared for the worst, all right?"

I shake my head, my lips quivering. "Dean, don't say that…"

"JJ," Dean sighs, his voice heavy as he presses his forehead to mine again and closes his eyes to conceal the tears gathering in them. "This could either go in our favour and we get the son of a bitch once and for all, or it could be a set-up and blow up in our faces. Either way it's going to end, and our plan will make sure that you and DJ will both be safe, okay?"

I don't like the sound of this. The defeated tone of his voice and the sorrowful look in his eyes makes my stomach clench painfully. There's something he's not telling me. I can feel it.

"Dean—" My words are swallowed when Dean leans in and presses his lips to mine, silencing me. The kiss starts slow with his tongue trailing along my bottom lip and nipping gently as if requesting permission, which I grant by parting my lips and greeting his tongue with my own.

Kissing him feels so familiar, it feels like coming home. Dean and I have always been good at fuelling each other's fire and the kiss quickly becomes more urgent and fierier. Every hair on my body stands on end when his lips brush mine. That familiar spark between us grows with every brush of our tongues, sending my mind into a state of chaos. There is no containing the moan that slips past my lips when his fingers tangle in my hair and he deepens the kiss further.

As our bodies fuse together, I feel myself unravelling and melting into him. The protective barrier around my heart crumbles, brick by brick, as I allow him to consume me. In this moment, I push away the thoughts of the mess we're in and sink into the warmth and comfort of his embrace. The spicy scent of his cologne fills my senses, mixing with the sweet smell of fresh rain that surrounds us.

There's something about this man that captivates me in a way I can't explain. He holds an inexplicable power over me, one that has me pleading to any higher being to not let this be our final kiss.

Despite everything, I am still hopelessly and irrevocably in love with you, Dean Reyes so you can't leave me. I refuse to believe that our story ends here, like this. It can't. I won't let it.

To my dismay, the kiss comes to an end with a feather-light brush of his lips over mine. Dean pulls away, his forehead pressing against mine as we both struggle for breath. Our chests rise and fall rapidly, mirroring the intensity of our emotions. In that moment, nothing else exists except for the two of us, lost in each other's embrace.

Dean takes my hand—which had been resting at the nape of his neck—and presses it to his chest. I can feel his heart racing beneath my palm, a steady drumbeat of love.

"Twenty years and you still make my heart race like the first day I met you," He avows while gazing lovingly into my eyes.

"And you still infuriate me like the first day I met you," I reply and smile when he chortles and leans in closer, his lips a hair away from mine.

"Is that right? Go on, whisper just how much you hate me, baby."

My heart pinches inside my chest.

I close my eyes and lick my lips before speaking.

"Ah ah, you know the rules, eyes open always."

Our gazes lock in a heated battle, full of love and desire. "I despise you with every fibre of my being, Dean Reyes."

Those gorgeous lips curl into a sinful smile, revealing dimples that make my heart race. His hand snakes its way back to the nape of my neck and my spine arches in response. "And I love to hear it, baby girl," he purrs, his voice dripping with seduction and arrogance.

"You're truly sick in the head. I hope you know that." I tell him.

"I do, and you hate that you love me for it," he replies with a smirk, his eyes glinting mischievously. My stomach churns with a mixture of frustration and need as I lock eyes with him.

"You keep looking at me like that JJ and I will not be held accountable for my actions. I'll spread you out right here and fuck your tight little cunt till your pretty eyes roll to the back of your head," he threatens, his words making my body tingle with anticipation.

My breath hitches as I lean in closer, our lips just inches apart. "Oh, I dare you, Captain ," I challenge in a low sultry tone.

Dean's gaze intensifies as he locks onto mine. Without hesitation, he lifts me up and pulls me onto his lap, my legs straddling him. "JJ, you know better than to challenge me," he warns, but there is an underlying hint of amusement in his tone.

"I know you well enough to know that you would never risk losing your job," I retort, trying to hide the shaky excitement in my voice. Dean's lazy smile turns wicked as his fingers trail up my thighs until they reach the button of my jeans. With practiced ease, he unfastens it and begins sliding them down my legs.

"It's no lie that you do in fact know me well," Dean speaks quietly as his fingers toy with the lace of my underwear. "But do you know how many times I have fantasised about this very moment. Sprawling you out on my F-35. Stripping you down slowly, spreading these gorgeous thighs apart and sucking on your succulent cunt till you come for me. I wouldn't only risk my job for that, I'd risk my fucking life."

I can feel his erection, hard like steel pressing against me and I'm damn tempted to grind myself against it when my centre throbs with need.

Jesus, I'm convinced now more than ever that there is something seriously wrong with us. It wasn't even ten minutes ago that I was crying over the thought of losing him again and now I'm straddling him and grinding on his dick. This can't be normal, can it? This is what Dean Reyes does to me. Is it any wonder that I'm tethering on the edge of insanity. My damn emotions are all over place. I don't know if I'm woeful, angry or horny or perhaps it's a mixture of all three?

All I know right now is that I want him to make good on his word and take me right here on his F-whatever the fuck it is.

It appears that the both of us are seeking a distraction. A moment of solace. The weight of negative thoughts is becoming too heavy to bear, threatening to push me over the edge. I feel my sanity slipping away as I continue to dwell on all the bad things happening around me. I need to break free from this mental prison before it consumes me completely.