Ayana ,la fleur du milliardaire

Gavin's Pov

I’d known Diana since we were six.

She moved into the house next door with her mom after her parents split, and the first thing she did was climb the oak tree in my backyard to rescue a kite that had gotten stuck.

I was already up there trying to get it down, so we ended up stuck together for an hour until my dad brought the ladder.

From that day on, she was just… there.

My person.

Now we were twenty-six, sitting on the worn leather couch in my apartment, the same one we’d picked out together three years ago because it was on sale and she said the color matched my eyes.

She was curled up against the armrest, legs tucked under her, sipping hot chocolate I’d made because she had shown up complaining about the cold.

Shit… just her touches made me want to explode

All I could think about was pinning her to the couch, slamming my dick into her pussy and making her beg for more.

My cock hardened at the thought.

“Gav? Gav??” Her voice jolted me back to reality.

“Yes.. yess. About Ryan??”

“He’s funny, Gav,” she said, eyes lighting up the way they always did when she was excited about something new. “Like, actually funny. Not just dad-joke funny. He made the whole team laugh during the Monday meeting.”

I nodded, stirring the mug in my hands even though there was nothing left to stir. “Sounds great.”

“He asked me out for Friday. Dinner and then maybe drinks after. I said yes.”

Of course she did.

Diana said yes to almost everyone.

She gave people chances the way most people handed out smiles, easily, generously, without thinking twice.

It was one of the things I loved most about her.

Maybe if I asked, she’d let me play with her a bit. Stroke a pussy with the dildo she kept in her room.

“Cool,” I said, keeping my tone low.

She tilted her head, studying me. “You okay? You’ve been really quiet tonight.”

“Just tired. It's been a really long week.”

That wasn't a lie.

Work had been brutal… another acquisition, endless meetings and the likes.

But the real reason I was quiet was sitting right next to me, talking about a guy who wasn’t me.

I wondered if Ryan knew how she liked her popcorn burnt, or that she hummed when she was nervous.

Probably not.

He was just the new guy with the jokes.

She bumped my shoulder with hers. “You sure? You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The one where you’re thinking too hard and pretending you’re not.”

I laughed. She knew me too well, my eyes drifted to her breasts hanging out her loose shirt.

God how I wanted to bury my face on her nipples.

“I’m fine, Di. Promise.”

She accepted it, like she always did, and went back to her story.

Ryan this, Ryan that.

How he was tall, taller than me, apparently, and how he played guitar and had a dog named Pickles.

I listened and I even nodded at the right times.

I asked questions so she wouldn’t notice I was barely holding it together.

Because here’s the thing no one knew, not even her: I’d been in love with Diana since we were sixteen.

It hadn’t happened all at once.

It slowly crept up on me.

One day she was just my best friend, the girl who knew I hated olives and that I cried during the ending of Armageddon, and the next, I couldn’t look at her without my chest feeling too tight.

I remembered the exact moment it hit me.

We were at the lake with a group of friends, senior year.

She came out of the water in this red bikini, laughing because someone had pushed her in, and the sun caught the drops on her skin.

I forgot how to breathe.

I never told her though, even if I told myself I would.

A hundred times, I wrote speeches in my head and practiced them in the mirror.

I planned the perfect moment, after graduation, on her nineteenth birthday, the night we moved into our first apartments two buildings apart.

But every time I got close, something stopped me.

Usually, it was her.

“Gav, listen to this,” she’d say, right as I was working up the nerve. “There’s this guy in my chem lab…”

Or, “You won’t believe what happened on my date last night…”

Or, “I think I’m falling for him.”

Every single time.

So I swallowed it down… buried it. I told myself it was enough to be her friend. That being close to her was better than not having her at all. And for a while, it was.

But watching her date other guys? That part never got easier.

There was Jake in college… the frat guy who cheated on her with her roommate. I held her while she cried for weeks.

Then Marcus, the “nice” one who ghosted her after six months.

Ethan, who said she was too clingy.

Tyler, who told her she laughed too loud.

I was there for every breakup, every late-night call and every pint of ice cream and bad rom-com marathon.

I fixed her when they broke her.

And every time, I hoped—God, I hoped—that maybe she’d look at me and see something more.

She never did.

She’d hug me and say, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Gav. You’re the best.”

The best friend.

Always the best friend.

Tonight, as she kept talking about Ryan, I felt that familiar ache settle in my chest.

It was dull now, from years of practice.

But it was still there, a constant thrum under my skin.

I watched the way her hand animated her words, the silver ring I’d bought her for her twenty-first birthday catching the lamplight.

She wore it every day, said it was her lucky charm, never realizing it was a piece of my heart she was carrying around.

“You’ll like him,” she said confidently. “I’m gonna bring him to game night next week so you can meet him.”

Game night was our thing.

The one night a week we’d kept sacred since college, no dates, no plus-ones, just us and whatever board game she was obsessed with at the moment.

Last month it was Settlers of Catan and the month before that it was Pandemic. She always won.

Now Ryan got to be part of it.

“Sure,” I said. “Can’t wait.”

She grinned, oblivious. “You’re the best, you know that?”

Yeah. I knew.

She finished her hot chocolate and stood, stretching. “I should head home. I have an early meeting tomorrow.”

She hugged me and for a second, her head rested against my chest. And I wondered if she could hear how fast my heart was thudding. If she did, she didn't say a word.

“Night, Gav.”

“Night, Di.”

I watched her walk down the hall to the elevator. She turned and waved before the doors closed.

Then I shut my door, locked it, and stood there for a second in the silence.

The apartment felt too big without her in it.

The air felt thinner, like she’d taken all the oxygen with her when she left. I walked back to the couch and picked up her empty mug. It was still warm. I ran my thumb over the rim where her lips had been, a pathetic gesture that made my throat tighten.

I headed to the bedroom, stripped down to nothing, and dropped onto the bed.

The sheets were cool against my skin.

I stared at the ceiling, trying to push her out of my head, but it was useless.

Ah fuck it.

Her voice was still in my ears. That laugh. The way she said Ryan’s name like he already meant something.

I closed my eyes and there she was—wearing my hoodie, legs bare, curled up on my couch like she belonged there. Because she did. She always had.

My hand moved without me telling it to, sliding down my stomach.

My dick was still swollen from earlier.

I wrapped my fingers around my aching dick and stroked it slow, picturing her on my lap, riding her wet pussy over me.

All I wanted was for her to notice me.

I wanted her to touch me and suck my dick till I came all over her.

I didn’t care if she didn’t love me. All I just wanted right now was to see me as a man, someone who could give her pleasure. To make her moan harder.

Precum started dripping of my tip

“Fuck Diana..” I muttered to myself.

My grip tightened and I moved even faster.

I came with a low groan. If only she were here, she’d lick off every single drop of cum like a good girl she was.

After, I lay there breathing hard, staring at the dark.

One day, I’d tell her. I’d have her all to myself. One day she’d be dripping.. No…begging for my dick.