Wanting More

He smiles at me, blue eyes sparkling with unhidden lust.

My breath catches in my throat. I wonder if he can see my hand begin to tremble. I wonder if, in fact, it's trembling at all or if it's only my fear imagining it.

I close my eyes and lean in for his touch, wanting it more than anything else I can imagine.

I open my eyes.


Last night as I was falling asleep these were the thoughts running through my head, or something of that nature. I had stayed up and it was 2:30 am. My book, Kushiel's Scion, was in the living room right where I had left it, finally finished- Next to my computer.

Last night I yearned. Sometimes it gets like this- I imagine the men I wish I could know, I create them in my mind. They are always beautiful, not always in our modern sense of it. In a way it makes my heart ache, even just giving in to imagining.

I long for passion, undisguised and unbridled- taking me against the wall with hiked skirts, a hand on my ass as I lean in to grab my bag from the car, a grip around my neck as he draws me close whispering his wants in my ear. I want this so badly. I'm afraid of dreaming of it, afraid the hope will hurt me more than its lack.


Mr X. and I have come a long way. It was just last month when we rolled around on the floor, each fighting for our own dominance. It was just yesterday where I laid on the edge of the bed, feeling him thrusting against me- wishing that old thought again, that he'd learn to take his time on me. Yesterday was unsatisfying. This weekend was unsatisfying. It used to be a common occurrence. Still, I want what I wish I could dream of.

I want skill with my passion. I want that knowing look, when a man gives that self-satisfied smirk. He doesn't have to ask a single question to know the effect he has on you- and he wants you to know it.

I want that.

So badly.

You have no idea.


It seems sometimes my life is a series of wants, unfulfilled desires.


I wonder what Mr X. would think of this.


He'd probably blame me for it....