BETWEEN REVENGE AND LOVE

36

"At least one good thing that creep did." His grasp around me tightens a little more, causing piercing pain to shoot through my torso. How I wish that would be an exaggeration. 

"Would you not crush me?" I moan in discomfort, "It hurts. Please let me live." 

"I'm hurting you? Tell me whose fault it is that you're hurting now, surely not mine." 

I stay quiet. I'm not going to play along with every damn single one of his games. No, not doing him that favour. Even if that means he won't let go of me. I'm giving him stubbornness, I decide conclusively. 

"What asshole did this to you and now doesn't even care at all? You're getting my point, don't act like you're not." 

"Rubbish, he does care, very much. But you, you left him no other choice than to leave." 

"Wrong answer." 

That is all I get to hear. 

Stubborn him and stubborn me will not make each other happy if things go on like this. We both know it. 

My "Okay, okay, fine" and his "Sorry" blurt out of us pretty much simultaneously. 

A second later his arms around me loosen. Gently his hand brushes over my collarbone and he presses a kiss onto my shoulder.

"I would never, never hurt you, you know that, right?" He mumbles, meanwhile his other hand travels down my side, tugging at the hem of my shirt, "Not unless you deserve it."

His audacity. His audacity is firstly, completely unbelievable, secondly, absolutely outrageous and thirdly, to my distress, plainly a weakness of mine. Rather humiliating. 

There are goosebumps. All over my body. Know what's also all over my body? His hands. It's too late to try and hide them. It's too late to deny my feelings. I'm more than ready to give in. Who cares about a little soreness? Not me. 

"I'll make you feel better love."

With that he once again is on top of me, his hands like earlier propped up left and right next to my head for support. This time he doesn't give himself time to look at me, instead, his lips find mine instantly. 

Ever so tender he kisses me, my everything. His leaving my lips would've upset me if he hadn't found other places to plant them, travelling down my torso as if following an invisible trail.

Alone the feeling of his hands riding up my shirt for more access makes me melt into the mattress. Even more so his kisses down my stomach. The time until he tugs down my panties feels both eternal and far, far too short.

"Spread them." He pulls me out of my my-brain-is-about-to-resolve state.

"Hmm?" Given the circumstances, I think it's forgivable that I don't know what is what in the slightest, let alone words.

"Spread your legs for me." 

He doesn't wait. Not even gives me a single second to do as he asked. My breath draws in gasping as he pushes them apart himself and continues to attack the inside of my left thigh with kisses, shortly after moving on to my right. I don't know who to blame it on, on the way his breath tickles on my skin or on the dramatically decreasing oxygen levels of the air I breathe. 

What I do know is how he feels, his caressing hand and his pretty lips and his warmth and his smell. I know exactly how soft his hair feels with my hands grasped into it tightly, softer than the linen sheets beneath me and the air around me. And I know how my heart heavily beats in my chest, how my breath rasps through my throat and how uncontrollable sounds slip from deep out of my lungs.