CW: Some mature content and strong language
Song: "Every Little Thing" by Carly Pearce
“God, baby, you’re so good,” he groaned out. “I’m gonna…” he trailed off.
My eyes closed of their own accord, his words stoking the fire that was already out of control for him within me. I knew what was about to happen as he picked up the pace.
And then, I was rewarded with my favourite groan as my own orgasm took hold of me. My body tensed as I dug my fingers into the defined muscles of his back. My breathing was erratic as I rode the high only he could give me.
He leaned down to kiss my neck and cheek. “You good?”
I couldn’t speak yet, so I just nodded, hoping he was looking at me.
I felt as though my spirit had left my body and was taking its sweet time orbiting the High Heavens before it returned to its physical state.
Until finally, my eyes slowly fluttered open as I regained control and came to. “What are you doing to me? Come here,” I said, my voice was breathy and wavered as I reached for his chin, pulling him in for a kiss.
I bolt upright in bed, heart racing, eyes wide and darting around the dark room, unfocused, as I instinctively reach over to his side of the bed.
It was at that moment that my heart sank, reality hitting me, hard and fast. “Fuck.”
He was gone.
I let myself fall back onto the bed, my head landing on the pillow, frustrated with myself. I pulled my hand back from what had been his side of the bed and rubbed at my eyes as if to wipe away what I had just envisioned in my dream.
I thought I’d been doing better, moving on even, but now my skin was on fire at the memory of him. He had known exactly how to drive me crazy and I couldn’t forget it.
It had felt so real. I could still feel his hands on my bare skin, him on top of me, how he felt, the groan he made when he finished, feel his kisses as we basked in the afterglow.
But it had just been a dream or was it more of a nightmare to keep re-living what I’d never have again?
I don’t know if it was the loneliness of our lives that had brought us together, but it had become more than that. Our time together, whether it was in the bedroom or our random conversations, had changed me.
I didn’t think that things would become what they had. The pull between us was something that neither of us could explain and it had caught me completely off guard.
In my heart, I knew he was my forever person and I truly believe that he felt the same. I knew he had loved me. I knew I was important to him.
But sometimes that didn’t matter. Sometimes, love wasn’t always enough to keep two people together. Lord knows that man would live rent-free in my heart until the day I died, but that was neither here nor there.
The point was that neither of us had been ready for this thing that had sprouted up between us. It had been nothing but fire – the kind of passion you thought only existed in perfectly packaged romance novels.
But I had never been his first choice.
He wanted me to be in his life but on his terms.
I can’t say that I blamed him for choosing to prioritize his dreams over mine, over us, but it was a bitter pill to swallow when it really hit me.
I guess he had assumed I’d wait until he was ready for more, but I couldn’t. That wasn’t fair.
I hated him for putting me in the position to obliterate both of our hearts – well, mostly mine.
The day we broke up was still a blur. I just remember blurting out words, very cliché words, about not being able to do this anymore. I remember having to pull over after I’d left his place, I hadn’t even made it a block, and just cried.
It was one of those cries that are gut-wrenching to watch, let alone actually live through. I cried for what could’ve been between us.
He hadn't even put up a fight.
That had hurt me the most.
The whole time we’d been together, I thought I’d been ruining him for anyone else. If I’m honest, my ego needed to believe that I had. The reality though, was that he had actually ruined me for anyone else. I couldn’t fathom the idea of trying to love another man. For what? To go through this heartache again? What was worse is that I physically and mentally couldn’t allow another man to love me, to touch me. I had tried, but I just couldn’t.
And now, I was in bed, alone – missing his strong arms around me as we slept, holding me to his chest like a rag doll, his heavy leg over mine, his loud snores in my ear, his soft kisses every time he woke up during the night...
God, I’d give anything to have that back.
But I couldn’t keep settling for the scraps of himself and his heart he would sporadically share with me.
I had stayed because I knew he needed me more than he’d understood, which I think had scared him when it had started to dawn on him. But, that wasn’t for me to unpack – not anymore. I was done giving him the ‘girlfriend experience’ when he rarely ever showed up for me when I needed him.
Nonetheless, those pockets of vulnerability were pure magic because I saw him for who he was – that’s probably why I fell for him. I saw a man with a good heart that he was willing to trust me with – his haven in this crazy world. In those moments, I could feel his soul latch on to mine, pulling us deeper and deeper into the waters that would eventually drown us.
It was all or nothing for me at this point.
So, I walked away.
As hard as it would be, I would have to learn to breathe on my own again.
I didn’t know how or if that would be possible, but I had to try.
I deserved that much.