This morning's writing

He takes me by the forearms, starts to press me back into the bedroom. Ow. My ankle is still throbbing. His eyes tell me that he’s sorry. I loop my arm around his neck and he half-walks, half-carries me. A few steps take us from the deck to the back of the cabin. No need to close the door. No need for faux privacy. He sits me down on the bed. It’s awkward. He lifts my leg closer to him, rubs my flesh. Part of me wants to kiss him. Part of me wants to hit him. I come close to the latter, but in the end I lean forward.

 

Somewhere along the way we get frenzied, too much so to pull down the covers. His teeth are in my neck, my hand running along his abdomen. When he slips a finger inside me I groan, an animal sound that seems to come from somewhere deeper. It’s about wanting something, but I’m not even sure what.