Stolen by a new man
He moves stealthily, seductively, between light and shadow, between purity and evil. Flickering like a candle flame in my breast, teasing with illumination and heat, yet ready to be gone from me at any time. I am completely stolen by him.
We burn more intensely together. I am fire, he is on the cusp. Sometimes cooling to my temperament, sometimes stoking so I actually exude heat, I am so aflame with desire and need.
The way he grasps me, shoves me down, whether pinning by the neck above me or plunging inside by holding onto my hips behind. Stealing my breaths entirely so I’m on the edge of consciousness. Driving me up against the wall, taking me in a passionate frenzy whenever, wherever. The middle of the night to the middle of my morning shower. Half way through a meal. When the desire takes him he will be there, hard, insistent, wanting, demanding but all with a seductive overwhelming innocence, love, admiration, respect, chivalry.
I feel flattered to be so whored, so abused, so taken… so stolen.
He wants me and I will provide.
There is an iron quality to his eyes, and his will is steel, immovable and unbreakable. It is his will but with the proper tempering and treatment he has compassion enough to move where he is motivated to go.
I have no idea where this is all going to end but I am enjoying the whirlwind tumble down the deviant well of desire…
Before, I was taking my time, completely certain I was fine where I was, I was happy to cut out potentially hurtful parts of life, past experiences teaching me not to trust. Then he comes along, finds me, the real me, picks me up and ravages me until I cannot and will not resist being stolen by him.
Worrying, in some ways, yet in others… not worrying at all.
There is yet more… more to this part of the story and other parts you know not of yet… but do you want to hear?