If only it was that easy.
My pride and feelings of betrayal stopped me
from thinking about anything romantic. I just couldn’t believe that
Drake was agreeing to marry another woman. Somewhere in my head, I
always thought we would find each other again and end up
together.
I still vehemently refused to be one of
Nicole’s bridesmaids. Until Krystal blurted that my mum purposely
banned everyone from telling me Drake was getting married. Of
course she would! How cruel. She even went as far as sabotaging my
grandmother’s efforts to inform me of the impending nuptial.
Knowing that changed everything for me.
Because once again in my life, I felt cheated. By the same group of
people who were supposed to protect me. They had never protected
me. It was partly their fault I left Drake in the first place. My
anger choked me, making it hard to think clearly. If my mum went
that far to prevent me from knowing about the nuptials, there was
only one reason. She knew without a doubt that my presence would
cause commotion. For that to happen, it would mean she knew Drake
was still in love with me. The wave of hope that filled my heart
just from the thought that Drake still loved me was unlike anything
I had experienced. Still, I was insecure. It had been three years,
and although I thought of him every minute, we hadn’t spoken in a
long while. I’d arrived too late so I couldn’t see him before the
wedding. My only chance to see him would come if I walked down the
aisle.
But why would I want to walk down the aisle?
It was obvious. I was too much of a coward to voice the reason, or
even allow myself to accept it.
However, the deal was sealed when one of my
cousins hinted that my dear baby sister Nicole had been throwing
her tits in Drake’s face every chance she got.
I realized then that Nicole was just as
cunning as my mum was. I’d made a horrible mistake buying the
virginal act she was selling. Of course, they must have planned the
entire thing together. My mum was a lot of things, but her past
marital woes would make her never force any of her daughters on a
man she knew the daughter didn’t want. Except me. But with her
darling Nicole? Never.
It was easy for me to figure out the puzzle
once I realized that. The Edgars were old European Royalty, long
line of money, not to mention their recent recovery of thousands of
untapped lands filled with oil in Africa and Russia. Soon, they
would be one of the richest families in the United States.
Our situation was the opposite; we were
falling down that ladder. Fast. I didn’t keep up with the family
business, but I knew things had been tight. I could imagine my mum
plotting how helpful a marriage to an Edgar would be to our
crumbling family. Until the state of Connecticut started allowing
gay marriage, Drake was the only Edgar she could marry her
daughters to.
Of course if it so happened that her darling
Nicole told her she wanted to fuck my drake, well not in those
words … The point was I could imagine my mum beaming with pride and
thanking God for such a brilliant idea; imagine her discussing it
with Drake’s mother, who hated me with a passion. I could see both
women toasting their glasses filled with ridiculously expensive
wines as they set every plan into motion.
Thinking of the entire thing enraged me. I
shook from head to toe, as my emotions clashed against themselves
inside my chest. On one hand, I felt betrayed; on the other hand, I
felt as if I didn't deserve to feel betrayed. By my mum, Nicole,
and every other family member who knew about this wedding,
relationship and didn't tell me. They were my family. They knew
what Drake meant to me. He was the very air I breathed. These
people witnessed every smile, kiss, tear, and hug I received from
that man. How could they not think about me? About how this
marriage would make me feel.
And what about Drake? Did he think of how I
would feel? Did he still love me? How could he do this? How dare
the bastard get married? He was the reason I left in the first
place! How dare he put me through this? Somehow, I couldn’t bring
myself to blame my sister and grandmother for bringing me here. It
was all Drake’s fault.
Now, here I am. Standing in the procession
line for his bride. On his wedding day.
FUCK YOU, DRAKE.
It’s time. So I do what I’ve always done when
things get too difficult for me: I close my eyes, hold my breath,
and freak out internally –screaming, crying, whatever. But I do it
just for ten seconds, then I exhale, open my eyes, and face the
crowd.
It must work because now that my raging
internal monologue is gone I can hear it. The organ. Processional
music. The hum of everyone’s whispers.
I glance around and see everyone is in place.
The bride glowing in virginal white while my relatives and family
friends that make up her bridal trail surround her in Grecian blue
thousand dollar dresses. This is really happening.
The door pushes open, letting in a gush of
cool air. My breath catches in my throat as the first bridesmaid
walks through.
Then it’s my turn and Krystal is nudging me
forward.
My stomach dips, and my hands start to
tremble on my bouquet, but I force on a confident smile and move my
feet to the heavy chords playing.
The hums intensify immediately. In fact, a
few people slip up and even moan their shock at seeing me.
I refuse to glance at them. I keep my head
straight, eyes focused on the aisle.
I will not glance at him. Even if it kills
me, I will not look at Drake.
I turn and meet his gaze.
The sight of him spurs such an intense
reaction from my body and mind that it feels like a physical blow.
Right there, I feel my world move. I feel light as air, and easy.
It’s as if the answer to every question I’ve ever had in my life is
right before me. He’s right there, staring at me. Drake
My eyes can’t get enough of his
broad-shouldered footballer frame. He’s a big, muscular man, about
6’4, yet there’s still a panther-like sleekness to him. His biceps
are ripped; his torso is long and leads to long powerful legs. I
think the biggest impact is in his face, which is exquisite- the
deep tanned skin; the sculpted cheekbones, strong straight nose,
dark long brows, thickly-lashed piercing green eyes, and of course
the wide, red mouth that contrast with his black wavy hair. He’s
looks gorgeous, beautiful, and so damn fuckable.
Shit. what am I thinking? Fuck! Air
disappears from my lungs and I almost trip. Or maybe I trip, I
don’t remember, but somehow I catch myself and continue until I
reach the end of the aisle.
My heart pounds in my chest. I can’t seem to
remember how to breathe anymore. Why is this happening?
I risk a glance at him and regret it. Because
the air instantly crackles up with hot pulsing energy that weakens
me. Delicious warmth travels through my body just from his stare.
And in no time, I begin feeling the same magnetic pull towards him
that I always feel when I’m in his presence. It’s the feeling that
I need to drop everything in the world and go stand by his side
because that’s where I belong.
This insane attraction to him has always
scared me. The knowledge that I’m so helplessly in love with a
selfish man scares the hell out of me. The sexual pull, on a pure
carnal level, is even worse. It’s an exorbitant force of its own.
It overpowers and crushes everything in its way. Our ferocious
mutual attraction to each other is something we both hate and yet
can’t deny our bodies.
I quake violently now just from thinking how
hard, raw, and deep we used to fuck. We screwed like animals that
were constantly high on ecstasy. It was disturbing really, the way
a look, a smile, or a word was all it took to get us fucking for
hours until we were both too sore to move.
How did we lose all that? Why didn’t we fight
for our love, I wonder as I reminisce on the good times we had.
Perhaps it was my fault. My pride. I couldn’t face him again after
the things he said to me that night. And it fills me with regret
now. How stupid of me to allow my pride control me. So fucking
stupid. Fear begins entering my body, drowning every inch of me. I
love Drake. I love him. He can’t marry Nicole. What the fuck? How
can he do this to me? We promised to grow old together. We belong
together.
I feel the tears coming, and I bite down on
my lips so hard that I draw blood. It’s then it hits me, that
although we’ve been apart for these three years, I’ve always felt
drake and I were still connected in a way.
I can’t explain it, but I’ve always known I
had some kind of hold over Drake, the same way he has a hold over
me. So of course, even if we dated other people, at the back of my
mind I always thought we would still end up together. That thought
made me confident, and even gave me the strength to continue to
live without him in my life.
However, to stand here and watch that hope
I’ve held on to for so long disappear crushes me. I want to fall on
the ground and cry until I have no more tears. What the fuck was I
thinking? Why did I agree to this?
Confused, I glance at Drake and this time I
really notice him.
He’s staring back at me. Intensely staring.
It takes me a moment to realize what’s going on because Drake has a
raw, unrelenting force of will. He’s the kind of man that lets you
know only what he wants you to know about him. It took me years to
figure out Drake’s unorthodox reaction to things, and I realize I’m
experiencing one now.
Drake is surprised to see me.
I absolutely didn’t consider that my mum or
anyone else didn’t tell him I would be here. Feeling horrified I
try to glance away, but I can’t. Drake pins me with his hypnotic
gaze.
My blood turns to fire, and I just continue
staring, melting under his powerful aura.
At some point, my eyes fall on his legs and
my thoughts become even more fucked up. Drake has a way of standing
that draws your attention to the bulge between his legs. I can’t
explain it. Maybe it’s the curve between his legs, or the elegant
gait with which he holds his shoulders as he stands.
The only thing I can think about while
staring at his legs is his cock. I will burn in hell I know. Oh,
but if hell has Drake’s cock, I so want to burn in there forever.
It’s how he stands; it’s so virile and sexy. Once you notice it,
the first question that pops up in your mind is, why does he stand
as if he has big dick? When you are in my shoes and know that he
stands as if he has a big dick, because well, he has a big dick,
it’s hard not to have dirty thoughts around him. The image of his
beautiful tanned cock flashes through my mind, and I shudder
remembering how I used to tease him that his cock reminded me of a
baby’s arm. It was so thick and heavy to the point that when he was
inside me, I could feel the weight of it in my pussy. It always
felt so right, so perfect …
My pussy clenches in reaction and I blush
hard, horrified at the blatant sexual depravity of my thoughts.
What the fuck is wrong with me? It’s his fault. Why is he staring
at me like that? He keeps switching his gaze from murderous rage to
animalistic sexual desire, and it’s making my pussy act like a
leaking damn.
Drake’s body is eerily calm and confident,
radiating steely control. Yet his eyes are burning and ferocious,
ravishing and violating me.
I can’t breathe. I feel my pussy contracting
hard, feel my wetness melting into my thighs. My thoughts are
becoming notoriously hazy. I just want to be next to Drake. I just
want to smell him, to be in his arms again.
And from the way he’s looking at me and the
waves of lounging bursting out of his body, I can tell he wants
those things too. Why couldn’t we make it work? Why? Now, he’s
getting married to another.
Suddenly, I notice the frigidness of our
surroundings. Expectation is thick in the air, and that’s when I
really notice what’s going.
Somehow, while I was lost in Drake’s eyes,
his bride made her way forward.
Nicole is standing before Drake, waiting for
him to take her hand and lead her to the spot where they will take
vows that will bind them together forever.
But Drake is not moving. He’s just standing
there, staring daggers at me, his chest rising and falling with
frightening speed.
There’s a button clicking in my head, telling
me to recognize the dominant emotion radiating from Drake’s eyes.
But I’m really scared, because the fire in his eyes is burning
every inch of me. Mentally. Sexually.
I begin trembling with a helpless kind of
horror as I realize what’s happening. My eyes scan the room
frantically. It's right there, in everyone’s eyes. Scorn. Disgust.
Anger. Pity. Shock. There are murmurs, shocked whispers that leave
the air buzzing and the congregation exchanging glances.
The impact of what’s happening hits hard.
Drake isn’t going to go through with the wedding. I don’t need to
examine the critical stares of the congregation to know everyone
thinks I am responsible for this. Of course, I feel guilty. More
guilty than I have ever felt in my life.
But I try as much as possible not to lie to
myself, even though I lie a lot to others. This is what I want,
isn’t it? Why else did I agree to do this? I mean it’s not as if my
family members drugged or dragged me out here. Deep down, I was
hoping that my presence would affect Drake somehow, disrupt
him.
I am disgusting, and wicked; a complete evil
bitch. But god this drake, I will fall even lower to keep him.
I wrap my arms around my body, fighting the
urge to fall to the ground and cry. I’ve never deluded myself into
thinking I was kind or anything of that sort. I believe in
fairness, do unto others what you want others to do unto you. I
just don’t have it in me to be happy for any woman who’s about to
marry the love of my life. Not even my sister. If the situation
were reversed, I would expect her to feel the same.