What I Love About Him

On Bugs and Love

Ah, love.

It should be celebrated every single day because no day is promised. But I also understand the need to have a specific day to celebrate it in a special way, too.

Normally, I’m the eye-rolling, long-suffering person who’s simply waiting for February 15 so I can get chocolate at a discount. For the past few years, though, I’ve had a good reason to enjoy Valentine’s Day. I don’t need a specific date on the calendar to share my feelings about John Brownstone, but this is a perfect time of year for it.

What do I love about him? It’s easy to say everything but what does that really mean?

I love his sparkly blue eyes, especially when he smiles.

I love his beard and mustache, all salt and peppery.

I love his curly hair, even when he needs a haircut.

I love his bright smile, his real one – not the fake one he uses for photographs.

I love his laugh, the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand, the kiss of his lips.

I love his quiet Dominance and his fierce primal side, too.

I love the firmness of his grip, the gentleness of his touch, and the warmth that emanates from him at all times.

I love his support, his guidance, and his comfort.

I love his shoulder to cry on, his lap to cuddle in, and his knee to bend over.

I love the sound of his voice when he’s growling dirty things in my ear, soothing me at the end of a scene, or telling me about his day.

I love the muscles in his thighs and arms from years of working outside and years of riding his loud, rumbly motorcycle.

I love that he rides me with as much ease as he does the bike.

I love the gasp he makes when I kneel without provocation or warning.

I love the rumbly noise he makes when he sees my bare ass wiggling in the air demanding attention.

I love that he loves my boys enough to be hard on them and firm with them.

I love that he lets me sleep in on the weekends.

I love that he thanks me for the meals I cook and a clean house.

I love that he picks up after himself and cooks, too.

I love that he understands my need to write and work and that sometimes means we’re having cereal for dinner.

I love how he listens to my emotional ramblings and then finds a way to sooth and calm, even if it’s a sharp smack to bare skin.

I love that he smacks my ass in public and at home.

I love the tugs on my hair to get my attention.

I love the way he pinches my butt as we walk upstairs.

I love the sound of his voice when he says, “Cum for me, girl.”

I love that he has several names for me, but one is a secret, just between us.

I love that he is proud to call me his and proud to be mine.

I love that he is John Brownstone and Southern Sir. I love when he is not.

I love everything about that man, even the normal, typical stuff of relationships. The belches, farts, bathroom smells, dirty socks, oil-covered rags (but the bike is clean!), the muddy shoes, the plethora of stuff that a keeper of things collects.

I love him.

Yeah, I know, I run the risk of being dubbed “cute.” Whatever. It’s that time of year and there’s no better time to make a declaration of all that I love about him – and damn I know I left something out, I’m sure.

About the author

Kayla Lords

I am a sex blogger, podcaster, freelance writer, international speaker, kink educator, and all-around kinky woman. You can find me online sharing my innermost sexual thoughts and experiences, teaching other bloggers how to make money writing about sex, and helping kinksters have happy healthy BDSM relationships. I'm also a masochistic babygirl submissive with an amazing and sadistic Daddy Dom and business partner, John Brownstone. Welcome to my kinky corner of the internet!


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