Welcome to our stop on the Imperfect Truth Blog tour.
By Ava Harrison
I’m a blogger. He’s a writer.
He was my weakness.
I was his muse.
Once upon a time my marriage was built on love...
Until it wasn’t.
Where had we gone wrong?
I had given up hope…
But then he messaged me,
And his words intoxicated me.
Made me believe in love again.
Made me believe in truth.
My imperfect truth…
As we head over to the bar, Ryder pulls me by the hand, and we step onto the dance floor instead. The vibe is electric, as the patrons rhythmically move to the music. I close my eyes, allowing the beat to permeate my consciousness. Ryder pulls me toward him, swaying his body with mine. We slowly begin to dance. The warmth that emanates from his body is a beacon to my soul. As our bodies touch, sexual tension radiates between us. We move together in perfect sync. Our breath is coming out in short, ragged bursts.
I feel sexy.
I feel liberated.
I feel free.
Desire courses through me. This is all Ryder. He keeps me in a perpetual state of need. Sensing my urgency, he looks at me with an expression that sends chills down my spine. His need to consume me is palpable.
He leans into me, breathing me in. I can feel the warmth tickle against my neck. My heartbeat becomes more erratic. His hand trails circles down my back, stroking lower and lower. He grazes the swell of my hip as I glide my fingertips up the side of his body. I stroke his torso ever so lightly as we continue to dance. Trailing my hands past his collarbone, I wrap my arms around his neck. I look up at him, and he smiles at me seductively, the curve of his mouth lifting so that it is barely noticeable.
"I want to taste you." His voice is husky.
I bite down on my lower lip as I take in his words. His fingertips trace the end of my black eyelet dress.
"I want to taste every part of you,” he says again in my ear, this time slower as his hand creeps under the hem. My skirt pushes higher up my leg as we continue to move our bodies against one another.
I stop moving and just stand there panting, feeling dizzy with need. I’m hyper aware that his fingers are now tracing circles on the upper part of my thigh. They are almost connecting to the cotton covering my most intimate place. On an exhale, he touches me so softly, I feel as though I might have just imagined it. As he grazes my sensitive flesh on the top of my legs, my breath hitches.
I’m frozen in place knowing I need to stop this, but I’m unable to pull away.
His eyes penetrate mine, daring me to stop him. But just as quickly as this game has started, it ends as he pulls his hand away.
“No, not yet. I want you to be only mine. Your thoughts, your body, your every desire. Until you’re ready, I won't kiss you, I won't touch you, I won't taste you.”
Copyright © 2015 by Ava Harrison
Ava Harrison is a New Yorker, born and bred.
When she’s not journaling her life, you can find her window shopping, cooking dinner for her family, or curled up on her couch reading a book.
Twitter - @avaharrison333