It’s a poisonous feeling.
One that grows and grows
wraps itself around your heart
and takes over your soul.
Autumn came and went as quickly as a leaf falling from its branch, and winter took hold, sending a chill through Melbourne, freezing what was old to make room for the new.
He’s inside me, taking over me, consuming me, hypnotizing my thoughts, claiming my body as his. I moan his name, and my fingers dig into his back as he pushes rhythmically inside me. He plays me as if I’m his favourite instrument, and I make every sound before I crescendo. This is when he’s mine when I’m the only thing in his thoughts, where time outside of us doesn’t matter.
He grabs my wrists and pins them down—it’s a rule I break often.
I can’t mark him, but he marks me.
“Matthew” I moan.
The tension between my thighs builds, ready to throw itself off the cliff that is us. I rock beneath him. His body is hard and his skin wet. His eyes look into mine. That’s become one of my favourite parts when he not only gives me his body but shares his soul. His clear blue eyes clouded with lust, with need. He needs me. I free him. This is when he’s alive. I can feel him coming close.
“Don’t stop. I’m almost there,” I plead, begging him to keep going, to not stop or pull away.
He moves faster and faster, granting my request, and his lips kiss mine, taking them in a slow, passionate kiss I usually don’t get from him, but I give him all the time. It’s so natural, so wonderful, but he usually keeps it from me. This kiss, even if his words never say it, lets me know how he feels, what he can’t say , and it’s what pushes me over the edge, relieving all my tension. My toes curl, and my eyes roll to the back of my head. I pant to catch my breath, and my body quivers before he follows.
His body rests on mine, our breathing frantic, our hearts beating rapidly but as one. My fingers trail up his back, and I kiss his shoulder. He rolls off me, catches his breath, and pulls me against his naked body. I revel in the small amount of time we have, the moments when he’s guilt-free when I pretend that it’s just us with no complications. I pretend my heart isn’t going to break the moment he leaves; that reality doesn’t end the best part of my world.
Those moments, that small window when he’s like this, are short, and when he removes his arm from across my stomach, I know it’s over. The bed shifts and he gets out of bed and grabs his clothes. His body is beautiful, sculpted and hard, and I feel lucky that he shares it with me.
His eyes find mine. I try to smile, even though I want to cry. I hate this part. He knows I do, and I don’t want to ruin what just happened, but I know the words I’m going to speak will. I can’t hold them in any more, so I try to prolong the time by trying not to say them. I try to think of everything else to say.
Beep, beep, beep….Good Morning is six am and now for the morning traffic update in beautiful Melbourne!
I pick up my pillow and throw it at my alarm clock. Today Matthew would be back at the office. Today would be the start of getting back what belongs to me.