His Shelter In My Heart

It's cold outside. Rather freezing as I shiver in my seat. Robert and I are driving to see his parents, as we do every Sunday. The children are at home with the nanny as they do not take well to long car rides. His parents were never big on "kids" anyway, which I find preposterous from time to time.

Robert takes my hand into his as he focuses on the road. I'm in love with this man. So much that sometimes I forget I even have borderline personality disorder. They say people of my kind can never have stable relationships due to having such a fraught range of emotions. But they are wrong. I have never been happier.

Happiness is an illusion in that I use the word loosely. It isn't a state of being. If it were, neurotypical humans would be susceptible to a plethora of symptoms linked to mental health disorders. Joy isn't what we use to measure ourselves or the overview of our lives. Therefore... I am a stoic.

I stare out my window, my heart fluttering as he strokes my hand with his thumb. My pale skin against his tan from his last business trip in Hawaii – what a voyage for work's purposes – makes me feel warm inside.

He is so good looking. His green eyes and dark eyebrows against his walnut brown hair. His perfect white teeth and square jawline always drawing attention in public everywhere we go. I'm obsessed with his appearance and the fact that he is mine elates me so much I actually believe a God exists.

I am a cynic. It is only natural in borderlines. Please forgive my demeanour, I truly don't intend to convey such negativity. Which if there was a degree for I'd have one.

I gave up on my education sometime after I married Robert. He promised to take care of me – what kind of a woman chooses to work when their husband is a CEO?

He stops the car abruptly. Turning to me, he mashes his full lips against mine and kisses me deeply. I let a moan escape from my mouth as he lifts my skirt, hungrily moving the fabric over to rub my pink length. I forgot to mention his outstanding sex drive that matches mine perfectly.

Within seconds, he has adjusted my seat into a lounger and has my legs pinned in the air ready to receive his wet warm mouth. And so I do. I moan loudly as he goes to work on me, leaning over the seats to bury his face in between my toned thighs. He clasps his hand around my neck as I gaze back at him, making the best pornstar face I can for his satisfaction. I know he loves my facial expressions in their most natural form, but stressing them makes me feel naughtier.

"Get rough with me," I command, curling my toes that stay in the air, nearly touching the ceiling of his Hummer. He obliges, slapping me in the face and tenderly licking me faster, harder. I beg him to slap me harder.

Whack!

Ha. It feels so good as he pleasures me. Better than any drug I have ever tried. Love is a virtue that serves many purposes. To name one of them? Getting me off.

"God," I moan as I grab his hair. He looks me in the eyes. His Libran stare so focussed and attentive I cannot help myself. I come instantly. He moans as I finish, shuddering and whimpering his name, tears beginning in my tear duct as my heart pounds. Sensations of bliss fill my body from head to toe.

He doesn't make me return the favour. Minutes later, we are back on the road on our way to the next town where his mother and father reside in the North side. They are wealthy nepotists who somehow had no influence on their son growing up aside from his financial success. They allowed him to move out at sixteen to live a colourful life on his own. We were together for a year at that point, my parents demanding I visited them on the weekends should I have had to go with him.

They knew we were soulmates. Everyone did. Even his parents who saw I was quite the underachiever. "I have never seen him so, well, content." His mother told me one day at a gala she had hosted on her yacht. They were billionaires. I was a poor girl from his high school. They were philanthropists. I had stolen hundreds of dollars in tips from my work to pay for things I wanted.

It's all behind me now. I spend my free time doing art and watching courtrooms on TV in hopes to go back to school to become a paralegal. Robert would fund it and I would do well as I exceed at English and academics involving gathering information.

Life can be perfect when you allow it to be. I call myself a very lucky person in that I have the choice to make life alongside my ultimate lover. Not everyone has the luxury of marrying their soulmate at twenty years of age and being well off.

We owned three houses. He even put one in my name; it was a condominium with a library and office intended for my writing career I... didn't end up pursuing due to commitment and time conflicts. I still used it as a getaway venue when Robert had to go on trips out of the state.

I loved my library. He had spent an extortionate amount of money on filling it with books ordered alphabetically only consisting of my favourite authors. Money talks, actions speak louder than words and talk is cheap. Believe me, he spoke my language well from the very beginning.