Sep 2019
I sent a relauntant "yes" after letting you sweat for awhile. It wasn't punishment but I hope it hurt.
Then after what felt like forever there you were. It hurt.
I'm still shocked by how tall you are. Even after all these years. You wore the old cardigan my cigarette burnt through 9 years ago. It was closed and an old band shirt poked through it. Your hair a bit more gray curled on end. My mind wanted to linger on the ends and I had to order it to stop and concentrate on putting one leg in front of another.
I walked toward you and then veered toward the passenger side of the car to avoid the awkward hug ex lovers pretending to be friends do. **** it if you don't follow to reach over me and open the car door. I turned my face up toward yours and my eyes locked on your mouth. And, again that hurt. Like physically hurt my every cell.
"Thank you for seeing me." Your mouth said. I only nodded as you shut the door behind me and tried not to watch you walk around to the drivers seat.
You were in my town and so I guided you to the nearest interstate. And, then we didn't speak. I saw your hand on the gear shift between us, your long fingers twitching. I knew you were eager touch me. I knew you were afraid to.
You were the brave one. Giving my knee a pat and asking me about the kids and dog.
And, then we were there. Your large hand on the the small of my back,
We entered a world more suited to you. A hotel with five stars in it's advert. Nowhere I could be without you. We went through the motions. You politely speaking to the woman at the desk and then returning to take my hand in yours.
My hands always feel small in yours. Our fingers link and your thumb caresses me as it always has. Like the day we met. When you lingered too long in a handshake. You led me to the elevator.
And, as we reached the top floor you had the audacity to lift our entwined hands to your mouth and skim your lips across my knuckles. You ******* *******. Don't you dare remind me I am yours.
There was a few thousand mile long steps from the elevator to your room. We couldn't get there quick enough but were too cool to run. You opened the door and I walked passed you to the large window that over looked a familiar city but I'd never seen it from a place like this.
I felt you come near. I can always feel you before we even touch. You gently pressed your lips on my bare shoulder and I swear my dead heart came to life. For a second I almost forgot you were the one that killed it.
No. I turned and looked up into the face I and so many women loved. I was prepared to be a *****. To yell. To cry. Instead I tore at your clothes.
You hissed more than once as I sank teeth and claws into long lean muscle covered in tattoos. You said my name. Begging me to stop. To listen to you. To let you tell me how much you missed me. I'd heard all this ******* before.
I left you there to hide in the bathroom. I looked at myself there. Naked in a bathroom nicer than my apartment. My face was flushed my chest blotchy and red.
Finally your words came through the thin bathroom door.
"Please. Let me in."
It wasn't locked. But, I said nothing.
The door opened slightly and then more. My blue eyes met your honey brown in the mirror.
You came to me wrapping your long arms around me and kissing my shoulders and neck moving my length of copper as you pleased. I felt my defenses crumble. I was helpless to what we are and always have been. I, then watched my own mouth gap open as your talented hands slid down. I melted into a puddle onto cold granite. My cheek pressed against the mirror your fingers slid between wet thighs and you slipped into me from behind. Filling me. I can only scream and moan as you get to speak. You ******* *******.
"I love you. Oh my god I ******* love you." You cry on repeat.
That's somehow less romantic as you pound the holy hell out me after crushing my heart last time we were alone.
Hours of this and then you have the ******* nerve to hold me, caress me, and kiss the top of my head? I hate you. I hate myself for this.
After I have ****** that beautiful bottom lip enough I may tell you how much.
*******, Rock star. Let me give you yet another hit single.
Then after what felt like forever there you were. It hurt.
I'm still shocked by how tall you are. Even after all these years. You wore the old cardigan my cigarette burnt through 9 years ago. It was closed and an old band shirt poked through it. Your hair a bit more gray curled on end. My mind wanted to linger on the ends and I had to order it to stop and concentrate on putting one leg in front of another.
I walked toward you and then veered toward the passenger side of the car to avoid the awkward hug ex lovers pretending to be friends do. **** it if you don't follow to reach over me and open the car door. I turned my face up toward yours and my eyes locked on your mouth. And, again that hurt. Like physically hurt my every cell.
"Thank you for seeing me." Your mouth said. I only nodded as you shut the door behind me and tried not to watch you walk around to the drivers seat.
You were in my town and so I guided you to the nearest interstate. And, then we didn't speak. I saw your hand on the gear shift between us, your long fingers twitching. I knew you were eager touch me. I knew you were afraid to.
You were the brave one. Giving my knee a pat and asking me about the kids and dog.
And, then we were there. Your large hand on the the small of my back,
We entered a world more suited to you. A hotel with five stars in it's advert. Nowhere I could be without you. We went through the motions. You politely speaking to the woman at the desk and then returning to take my hand in yours.
My hands always feel small in yours. Our fingers link and your thumb caresses me as it always has. Like the day we met. When you lingered too long in a handshake. You led me to the elevator.
And, as we reached the top floor you had the audacity to lift our entwined hands to your mouth and skim your lips across my knuckles. You ******* *******. Don't you dare remind me I am yours.
There was a few thousand mile long steps from the elevator to your room. We couldn't get there quick enough but were too cool to run. You opened the door and I walked passed you to the large window that over looked a familiar city but I'd never seen it from a place like this.
I felt you come near. I can always feel you before we even touch. You gently pressed your lips on my bare shoulder and I swear my dead heart came to life. For a second I almost forgot you were the one that killed it.
No. I turned and looked up into the face I and so many women loved. I was prepared to be a *****. To yell. To cry. Instead I tore at your clothes.
You hissed more than once as I sank teeth and claws into long lean muscle covered in tattoos. You said my name. Begging me to stop. To listen to you. To let you tell me how much you missed me. I'd heard all this ******* before.
I left you there to hide in the bathroom. I looked at myself there. Naked in a bathroom nicer than my apartment. My face was flushed my chest blotchy and red.
Finally your words came through the thin bathroom door.
"Please. Let me in."
It wasn't locked. But, I said nothing.
The door opened slightly and then more. My blue eyes met your honey brown in the mirror.
You came to me wrapping your long arms around me and kissing my shoulders and neck moving my length of copper as you pleased. I felt my defenses crumble. I was helpless to what we are and always have been. I, then watched my own mouth gap open as your talented hands slid down. I melted into a puddle onto cold granite. My cheek pressed against the mirror your fingers slid between wet thighs and you slipped into me from behind. Filling me. I can only scream and moan as you get to speak. You ******* *******.
"I love you. Oh my god I ******* love you." You cry on repeat.
That's somehow less romantic as you pound the holy hell out me after crushing my heart last time we were alone.
Hours of this and then you have the ******* nerve to hold me, caress me, and kiss the top of my head? I hate you. I hate myself for this.
After I have ****** that beautiful bottom lip enough I may tell you how much.
*******, Rock star. Let me give you yet another hit single.
A project in progress.
