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His baby girl is a stunning sight to behold, so much so that he stops in his tracks to drink you in from his vantage point next to the equipment crates lined up along the hallway backstage. The long locks of your honey-blond wig frame your beautiful face. Your world title belt gleams on your shoulder, shining as bright as the star that you are. Your eyes twinkle and your smile is wide and warm as you chat animatedly with Raquel Rodriguez. That smile used to be preserved for him and him alone, once upon a time.
He may have come over to Raw to break away from the Bloodline, but it's not the only reason he's made the jump. Cody brought it up during their rather bizarre phone call, the American Nightmare weaponizing this information in that annoyingly eloquent manner he has perfected...
"I know you're looking for a fresh start...but not just in the ring...I'm pretty sure there's a certain new Women's champion you'd like to reunite with..."
Jey has been separated from you for a long time, admittedly by his own doing. It's been torture. The hours have felt like days and the days like weeks. He's yearned for your touch, your scent, the warmth of your smooth, soft skin, the taste of your lips. He's stumbled through the rougher days by thinking about you and what you mean to him. He's fantasized, and even pleasured himself, to mental snapshots of his past sexual adventures with you, paying tribute to the most incredible orgasms he's ever experienced. He misses it all; the shudders of your voluptuous body, the pull of your wet, tight pussy around his dick, your fingers dragging across his hair and skin as you come apart for him, as he comes apart for you. The pillow talk and sweet words and soft kisses as you bask in the afterglow together.
The memories are beautiful, but he doesn't want just 'memories' anymore. He's made mistakes and he wants to fix them, and he only hopes you will let him. Five months is way too long to be without his favorite girl. He has to tread lightly, because even the nasty glare of Drew McIntyre and the conflicted countenance of Matt Riddle are tame compared to the wrath of a woman scorned.
A chill zips down your spine out of nowhere. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. A familiar men's cologne invades your nasal ducts. The knowing look on Raquel's face right before she slips away confirms the reason your body is reacting so strongly. Only one person does this to you, and he just debuted on Raw as a solo act.
