There is something about his words that had me so open. Even though I was aware of what was happening, I let myself be tortured. His words were his weapon; I did not know one could be so hard, steel, and so soft, inviting. I let myself go, and when I felt vulnerable, I told myself I would be okay, if I just breathe.
I fell.
I knew what lust could do to me, from the time I found myself on his couch. His control so great, it left me feeling puzzled, how could that be real? He told me I had to wait. The first time I ever felt that way, and he held up his hand.
I did not expect him to know that I get whatever I want. Years of pulling strings lead me to believe I could put him in my palm, and there he was setting up boundaries.
The next morning, I heard him leave at 5am, softly closing the door behind him. Later, he told me he watched me sleep… and how hard it was to leave. I still believe him.
