Wednesday, 7 November 2007

Having her cake

He had made her cry yet again. The cumulative consequences of his negative words and actions.

Sobbing in the bathroom as he lay helpless in their bed.

Returning to the bedroom, she was torn between grabbing her things to run away and the call of his warmth in that bed. Part of her just wanted to be free from the tethers that bound her to him, sweeping her from one polar extreme of emotion to the other and threatening to break her. Perching on the edge of the dilemma, as he begged her to come back under the covers to try to talk it through. She was well aware that he hated making her cry; loathed the demons of common sense that ate away at him, filling him with doubt and forcing him to enunciate with a brutal honesty that ripped her to shreds.

She felt his arms snake around her, pulling her back against him and knew that he could feel the tears on his forearms. She understood that he just wanted to hold her tightly and reassure her that everything would be alright and they could work it out.

As she turned to face him, their lips found each other, softly searching and reawakening. All the emotions that existed between them building and gathering themselves into the white hot fury of a desire that never seemed to diminish. But the tragedy was that, since the debacle of the termination, she was half-finished - because he was too scared to commit to saying what she needed to hear. She ached to feel the warmth of her man’s love upon her face and the honey of his words upon her soul.

Withholding them kept her trapped and chained within the inadequacies of her real world but the encouraging stimulation of those three little words could release the brakes inside her mind, convince her twisted psyche that this intensity was completely mutual and set her free to soar on the thermal gusts assaulting her senses.

And, finally, he realised this. Looking down at her, partially penetrated, his weight supported on his knuckles and his knees, she smiled up at him, her eyes full of passion and he had to say it. 'I do love you. I really do'. He watched her eyes fill with tears as she reached up for him and pulled his face down towards her lips. Whispering the three little words over and over again against his mouth, his cheek and then into his ear as her legs wrapped themselves around him and every muscle contracted, holding his body tightly against hers. Sliding in and out on the slick wet highway of their passion, giving and receiving until their circle was complete.

This was the reason that she could never bring herself to leave.

9 comments:

Wild Catz said...

A truely great post.

x x

BenefitScroungingScum said...

I just hope you find some answers honey x

Vi vi vi vooom!!!!!!!! said...

Wow, the feelings going through you, really pour out in your blogs. lovely post.

Gypsy said...

Gotta hate those demons that keep interrupting the euphoria...

Sulpicia said...

Hmmm. I don't cry a lot, yet last night I did the old cry-myself-to-sleep business. Very different situations... You catch all the nuances of hurt feelings and love... Pulling back, being pulled in... Beautiful.

Loving Annie said...

He has you bound and chained with that phrase, and I understand it... But a prisoner you are, Cake... My empathy...It isn't easy needing to be loved from that one person and no other, when they don't give it to you as often as you deserve.
You write so beautifully...

Redhead Editor said...

Hugs from across the ocean. My heart aches for you.

Anonymous Boxer said...

Oh Cake. Being held prisoner by the heart is so difficult... and yet, so beautiful too.

xxx to you.

Juno said...

Awwww. That made *me* cry. Beautifully written, and so emotive...

Hugs to you. Or her. Whoever wants one, gets one.