If someone knew all your secrets, if they knew the things that would make you melt into someone's arms, the things that would allow them to do practically anything to you, and if that someone used those things to get what they wanted, it would be something like this.
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“Shhh, everything will be alright,” she whispers as tears roll down my cheeks, “You don’t have to cry; I’m here.” She rubs my back in a slow circle motion making me practically melt in her arms. I close my eyes thinking she’s here with me now; there’s no need to cry, no need to cry at all. She slowly brings her hand up my back, and I want to take my shirt off, so I can feel the warmth of her fingertips, but I don’t. When her hand reaches my neck, she slowly pushes my hair back, so it rests behind my shoulder. I become more aware then of her breath warming the back of my neck like a fire in the middle of wintertime. I can feel it increasing in heat as she moves closer to me and slowly puts her lips on my neck. She slowly and carefully kisses my neck in a manner that is so calming it causes me to let my head drop down onto the pillow. In what feels like an hour’s worth time, but was probably only a few seconds, her lips are back on neck, sending pleasure throughout my body.
“Nessie,” I try to say, but my lips cannot form the name. She raises her head as if hearing the unspoken word and smiles.
“Everything will be alright,” she whispers again. Using only the tips of her fingers, she wipes the traces of hurt from my eyes. She then slides her fingers to the space just behind my ear and leans down to brush her soft lips on my cracked ones. I can feel her hand making its way to the bottom of my shirt, and slowly, she pulls it over my head. It’s not long until her shirt comes off, and then, she’s kissing my breasts in a way that nobody has ever proved existed. As she takes her fingertips and slowly trails them down from my collar bone to the elastic of my pants, I can feel myself begin to get wet, and then I’m embarrassed. I don’t want her to believe that she has found my weak spot; I don’t want her to believe that I not only want, but need her. But it’s true; I do need her. I need her more than humans need the world.
Her hands manage to slide my pants off smoother than a knife going through butter, and hers come off in the same manner. I can feel her eyes studying my body, every curve, every imperfection, and yet she still continues to run her fingertips along my skin as if she doesn’t see any of the things that I cringe at every time I look in the mirror. Her fingers make their way to my v****a, and her touch is in such a careful, soft behavior that I don’t feel the need to tense up and pull away. Her middle finger slowly slides into me, and I let out a moan. And as she continues to feel around, my moans don’t stop.
When she slides her finger out, she looks at me and smiles, and instead of going back to her own room, she stays with me and holds me all throughout the night. In the morning she’s still there, sound asleep at my side.
Now, weeks after it happened, I lie here in the dark alone, wondering if it was really out of love, or if it was out of the one thing I always feared it would be out of, lust.
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