An all-consuming need…
Evvie Neal was my addiction. The love I felt for her
controlled me and it brought me to my knees. She was my one. My only.
Destroyed as a boy, healed as a man, she was my
saving grace. The first person who knew the real me. Because of her, I became
stronger. Whole. A true warrior in my own personal Hell.
As time went on, demons from my past haunted me,
threatening to ruin what I had worked so hard to become. Strong.
The ultimate sacrifice was giving up a piece of
myself to be perfect. For her.
Possessed By You / Revealed By You / Perfected By You
Mine
My dear sweet Evvie. My wife. My lover. My one. My only.
I’m writing this as a way for you to get to know me further.
Deeper.
You know parts. Pieces. But do you really know all? I’m not
a man of many words, as you know. I’d prefer to show you how I feel through the
use of our bodies. Loving every inch of you, every curve, every freckle, as we
move as one.
The first time that I met with Dr. Santos without you, he
told me to start writing in a journal. He said it was a way for me to get out
of my head. I told him he was a contradicting asshole. He laughed. I’m not a
nice person when you’re not around, my sweet Evvie. I don’t take well with
being told what to do. This is why I own my clubs. Why I’m the boss. Why I’m in
control. I need it. I can’t have it any other way or else my life would be
fucking miserable. The only good thing in it, is you. You are my strength. My
light.
After I left Matteo’s office, his words bounced around in my
head and I found myself at a book store. A black leather bound book filled with
blank pages called to me. I remember my fingers tingling as it drew me in with
each step I took towards it. The need to have the small 5×8 book took control.
It was thrilling really. It was the same feeling I got when I first met you
months ago.
I never told you how I felt. That moment when I walked in on
you hugging Kane, a deep seeded need to rip his face off surfaced. It shocked
me to the core, taking my breath away. I had never felt that way about anyone.
I told you that I had an ex, someone who ripped my heart out when her boyfriend
came back. Well with her, I never felt how I feel with you. I never had the
urge to mark her as mine. To control her. With you? Evvie, I have to be in
control of you. In the bedroom at least. Other times? You are your own woman. I
know it. You know it. But I love you more every day that you submit to me when
we play. I thank you for giving that piece of yourself to me. I know it’s hard
to lose control. Trust me.
Now, this book is for my thoughts but I think it will be
filled with so much more. This will be my gift to you, my little vixen. I can’t
tell you how happy my words will be. You know my past. My history. But all you
know is what I’ve told you. Let me show you what has really happened. Allow me
to suck you in with my words. The only thing I ask in advance is for your
forgiveness.
With this book, I’m giving you a piece of myself. It’s like
a puzzle. Each journal entry a piece fitting into place. Some you may have to
force until you find the right one that fits. But just know that this puzzle
will reveal the real me. The whole me.
When J.M. isn’t working her Monday-Friday 9-5 job, she’s
spending her time reading, writing and with the love of her life.
She’s an all-around Canadian girl. Born and raised in a
small city.
If you don’t see J.M. writing, you’ll find her with her nose
in a book. Whether it’s her words or someone else’s, she’s drawn to it.
J.M. loves stories with Alpha broken males and that need to
be ripped apart and put back together again. Men that fall to their knees over
a wink or a giggle from their females.
Two things you will never find J.M. without; her cell phone
and lip gloss. If she has both of those items, you have a happy girl.
Since starting her writing adventure in 2013, J.M. has met
many people, real life, online, in her head and she loves every single one of
them. Without the support from others, none of this would be possible and she’s
grateful for all that has been given to her.
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