Status: Completed.
Take
1/1.
I remember waking up next to you that morning, your blue eyes shining so brightly and your hand caressing my cheek, your lips pressing against my forehead. I remember the way your stubble felt beneath my fingertips as I tentatively grazed your skin, taking in the wonder that was you in that moment. I remember the way your onyx hair fell in your eyes, shaggy and unkept. I remember you rolling me onto my back, lifting my blouse from the night before to trail kisses along my abdomen, between my breasts. The feeling of your fingers nimbly finding the button to my jeans in a way that was so subtle I was nearly unaware of your intentions.
I was blinded by my perception of you, the blind faith I so misguidedly had.
Your hand slipping between the barrier of denim to find the vulnerability of lace and satin. I remember whispering, “Jamie….” as you removed the denim fabric and my teeth sunk father into my lower lip, begging the little girl inside of me not to deny you. But that was me back then. I was fifteen and still a little girl.
Your whispered words at my ear, your lips brushing against the shell of my ear as you breathed, “It’s okay, my baby. It’s okay. Just let it happen, just let it happen.”
Your calloused hand slipping inside that barrier of innocence. Your other hand undoing your belt, unbuttoning your pretentious pretty-boy skinny jeans. Your onyx hair falling into your eyes as you began to stroke yourself and I realized that if I didn’t stop it then, didn’t find that strength within myself to tell you no, I wouldn’t.
“Xavier.”
You placed a kiss on my lips with a whispered request. “It’s just you and me, love. No one else. It won’t hurt, I promise.”
I could feel the tears pricking the backs of my eyes and I shook my head silently, “I can’t.” I whispered. “This will hurt me. I’m not ready for this.”
But that didn’t matter. None of it ever did. You did as you always do and you took. But you can’t have what isn’t yours to take.
I was blinded by my perception of you, the blind faith I so misguidedly had.
Your hand slipping between the barrier of denim to find the vulnerability of lace and satin. I remember whispering, “Jamie….” as you removed the denim fabric and my teeth sunk father into my lower lip, begging the little girl inside of me not to deny you. But that was me back then. I was fifteen and still a little girl.
Your whispered words at my ear, your lips brushing against the shell of my ear as you breathed, “It’s okay, my baby. It’s okay. Just let it happen, just let it happen.”
Your calloused hand slipping inside that barrier of innocence. Your other hand undoing your belt, unbuttoning your pretentious pretty-boy skinny jeans. Your onyx hair falling into your eyes as you began to stroke yourself and I realized that if I didn’t stop it then, didn’t find that strength within myself to tell you no, I wouldn’t.
“Xavier.”
You placed a kiss on my lips with a whispered request. “It’s just you and me, love. No one else. It won’t hurt, I promise.”
I could feel the tears pricking the backs of my eyes and I shook my head silently, “I can’t.” I whispered. “This will hurt me. I’m not ready for this.”
But that didn’t matter. None of it ever did. You did as you always do and you took. But you can’t have what isn’t yours to take.