“It’s so raw, I feel everything, but it’s good, so painfully good,” she says, moaning against my chest as I thrust in again, just as slow.
I have her so primed, drenched in lube and her own natural juices, that there’s no friction. Just pure wet torture.
I rest my elbows on the side of her head and go slow, looking her in the eyes as I bare my soul. “Understand when I say this that there is no going back. I never wanted to love you. I knew if I let you in, I was done for. I did everything I could to stay away. I can tell you I love you, but it is deeper than that. I love to tattoo. I love to drink a beer and watch Jeopardy. I love to fuck, but, you Mya, I need you. Yeah, it’s love, but it’s deeper. More intense. It’s devotion, utter devotion. Adoration, passion, fire, and need. It’s everything, Mya. You are everything.”
I pause and look at her as my cock drills her slowly, no rush to end this. The words I want to say are ones I have only ever said to one other soul, and I know I love Mya just as fierce. “You, Mya, you are my favorite color.”
Sobs rack her body at my admission as I make slow sweet love to her through her tears, letting her feel the intensity of what I said. She alone knows that depth. She knows because I let her deep enough. “You are mine, too, Sam. I never knew it existed until you.”
I feel my own tears, but I refuse to cry and fuck at the same time ever again. I devote myself to her pleasure, making her come as many times as I can until I fill her up, and we both fall asleep for hours.
I am pulled from the memory to a text on my phone. I rise from the couch and walk to the kitchen where I left it next to the sink.
Mya: I am so confused Sam. I can’t do this to you, and I can’t do this to Micha. I need time.
I look at the screen reading it over and over knowing damn well time isn’t what she needs or wants. I think it’s time I accept what it is, what it will always be.
Impossible.
Me: I don’t think time will change anything. I was gone for two years and you get into a committed relationship one month before my release? That’s deferring and nothing else.
Mya: Stop telling me what I need or feel.
I laugh without humor and fight against the urge to chuck my phone against the wall before I finally respond.
Me: Good night Mya.
