I knew he would be trouble. I should have learned, but of course, I hadn’t. I still haven’t.
I saw it right away- the way he looked at me when I moved my hands, how he watched me put on lip gloss, the intentional gaze into my eyes as I spoke, making sure not be distracted by anyone or anything else. He was consumed by fire before even he knew it. The problem now is, once he figured out what had happened to him, he woke up. He turned the tables. He already knew what he wanted…he just had to crack me open.
Turning the Tables
He’d find me day and night, never when I was strong, but always at my weakest moment. He’d find me when he knew I needed someone- when he knew I needed him. He found the little things to make me smile. He’d reel me in a bit then let me swim out for a while before reeling me back in closer. I found myself watching his moves, hanging on his words. I knew he was trouble.
When the day came after we had already worked through all of the little pleasantries, I think we both knew there was no going back.
“Come to me,” he said.
It was a simple order, but it was by no means a request. He said it sweet as could be, but still, it was NOT a request.
“Come to me,” he said again snapping me from my daze.
I reached for his outstretched hand and allowed myself to be pulled into his embrace. I could melt in his arms time and time again. Angry, furious, almost inconsolable, his embrace was and is the only thing that grounds me.
“You are not going to say a word the rest of the night,” he whispered in my ear, “I will listen to your whimpers, your breath, your heartbeat, and your moans, but you will not say a word.”
When I looked up at him, he gazed down at me and smiled before he kissed me so gently yet with such passion it took my breath away.
I didn’t keep track of the minutes on the clock- he, like me, didn’t keep one in view.
I didn’t keep track of how many times he kissed me- there were more than I had ever had.
I didn’t keep track of how many times I felt a tear trickle down my cheek only to feel him wipe it away with his lips or his fingers- he knew he was touching me much deeper than physically.
I didn’t keep track of how many times he made me cum- with his fingers, his tongue, his hard throbbing cock.
I knew the time was now and all that mattered was one thing- us.
I should have learned then that he was going to captivate me. This time, he really was trouble. Now here I sit, looking out to him from my spot on the floor…the spot where he lets me wait for him. Here I sit with my heart pounding, stifling the tears as I watch his movements waiting for him to come back to me, wrap me in his embrace, and make everything better. Here I sit…needing…and I should have known better. I should have learned.