Make It Up To Me

Hesitantly I walked up the steps and stood outside the door. Turned and stepped away, but. I had to face it. I knocked. The face that greeted me was angry. I knew it would be. My fault. All my fault. There are rules, she said. You can't come in. I know. I wasn't thinking. My fault. Let me in. She hesitates, but the need in her eyes equals the anger. She opens the door and stands aside. I shut it and stand there, I wait for her move. She slams me up against the door, pins my hands over my head and angrily yanks my coat zipper open, bites my neck, furious, but she doesn't hurt me any more than I want her to. She knows my rules. She never breaks them. As she drops her head to lift my shirt I grab her hair in my teeth and pull, loving the taste of it. I don't forgive you. I don't expect you too. Are you clean? Yes. Ragged sounds escape from her throat. For how long? I'm done. I'm too old for this. I'm whimpering in pleasure and pain and relief. There's nothing old about you. My lips are on her ears now, hands seeking skin, finding it. Don't rip it, I love this shirt. Take it off. I watch her wriggle out of it. She watches me. We're both breathing hard, but we stop, consider each other. Then she stands and unbuttons her jeans, slowly letting them drop to the floor. She's not wearing anything underneath. You knew I was coming I say in surprise. I hoped. I heard you were feeling better, I heard it was bad. I deserved it, I say. I am staring at her perfect body. I have never looked like that. She has a new tattoo, a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. Her navel has been designed to be the opening in the cocoon. Oh, my, God. She steps closer, her breath is in my hair. l slip my tongue into the cocoon. She put that there for me. She groans and sinks to her knees pulling me on top of her. I pull my skirt off over my head taking my shirt with it. My naked breasts fall to her mouth. She's still angry, I can feel it all over her like electricity, but I allow her that. I risked everything and almost exposed her. But the want is too much. She hates that. I hate it for her. She flips me over and again pins me down. Who gave it to you? Does it matter? Why didn't you tell me what happened? Why didn't you come here? You knew the risks. I could have helped you, you know I could. She Yanks my hair, slips her hand between my legs and pulls me up to meet her. On our knees, legs spread she sinks her fingers into my pussy. I return the favor, eyes locked on hers. No one in this room is being gentle here. Tears slip from her eyes, crushing me. I wanted to be your solution she moans through quick breaths rubbing her chest against mine. You are. I can hardly think, and this is how she wants me. I can only say what's true, I can't think up a lie. She knows this, me.I let her down for a minute, wrapping my hands around either side of her neck, pulling her lips to mine, taking my time, sweet and slow against the anger, she tries to punish but I persist. I'm angry too, but not at her, and this gives me control. I am boring into her eyes, breathing her breath, licking, caressing her mouth and lips and tongue. She softens for a split second and I feel it. I trickle my hand down her neck, between her breasts, over her perfect stomach, trace the tattoo, slide down into her, brushing her clit on the way. All in one quick motion. I can't miss my moment. She arches her back and I lay her down on the floor, cradling her head, slipping my arm around her neck. I kiss her sweet spot and then pin her arms gently with my free hand. She is aching, I can feel it, there's so much fire in her eyes but the tears betray her and the gentle pulsing look on her face tells me that I can win. That I already have. That I won before I ever walked in the door. Finally, swirling my fingers around inside of her, then up and over her clit, rhythmically again and again, I bide my time and at just the right moment, when she lets out that last breath, that tell before she climaxes, I skim my lips over her nipple and lick them with my tongue. She explodes, arcing up against me over and over, clinging to my hair, pulling, finally reaching what she wants she crushes her lips over mine and shoves me back against the wall. She rubs her vagina against mine, hard, but her hands become gentle against her will. The tears are still in her eyes. I keep losing you. You keep finding me. I can hardly speak. There's a supernova building inside of me and she alone can detonate it. But she knows this. Controls it. Needs to punish me one more time before she can concede. If I lose you to it again we'll be done. I can't be done. I am dying inside, feeling her fear, feeling her hands tremble, her eyes shatter me. She sees it and lunges on her chance: she undoes me and I come in a cascade of ripples of ecstasy and agony. We both know I'll be stuck in this moment time and again. We both know she's killing me and saving me in one stroke. Then without a word she lifts me and lays me down across her soft warm couch, brushes back my hair and for the first time really looks at me. You've lost weight. She runs her hands over every inch of me, probing, feeling, checking. Who did this to you? Well, me. Stop being coy. Who else? Was it him? I try to look away but she holds my face and easily find her answer there. That's why. It's a statement. She's not asking me. You were supposed to call. I would have come to get you. Yes. She's soothing now, but her medical examination is done. She's arousing me again. And I know I have to admit it. Admit what drove me to run the wrong way. I can't leave her here like this, needing. I ran. I say. Because I couldn't think at all. I couldn't hear. I was terrified, and, this is where I have to finish it. And I lost my phone, and I couldn't my remember your number, and I couldn't figure out how to explain to you, and I was so..ANGRY. I surprise myself by yelling. And I had to make it go away. I had to turn it off. I could not deal with it, and I couldn't find you, and, but I can't finish it because the heat in my body is skyrocketing, she does this to me. Longest fingers I've ever seen. Cello players. I'm sobbing and flying now and she's kissing every bruise, including the one on my breast that I discovered the night I woke up on the bathroom floor having no idea how I got there, knowing somewhere in my mind what had happened. Two weeks later, still there. I'm drained and at her mercy, and she lays herself over me, protecting. In a haze I slip my fingers into her and trace a slow arc out of pure muscle memory, and her face is buried in my hair, my tears on her chest. A moment later I feel her tense inside, pull inwards, and i let go as she does. Hours later I wake to find her eyes watching me, drinking me in. She licks her lips. Time to make up for lost time.