Jenna wants a post from us about foreplay and afterplay – but I am going to defer sharing that level of information about Jack and me. Instead, I am going to find a few tweaked paragraphs from my first novel “We Hide What We hate About Ourselves”.
Just to explain the context of this passage….after an absence of eighteen months and very poor communication while away, Annabelle’s partner has returned to visit her. A lot of stress and pain has occured between this couple, and yet they want to try to repair the damage. While Annabelle is still grappling with the shock of Robin’s confessions, he is eager that what the two of them need is some time alone...
In one swift movement, Robin grabbed Annabelle’s wrists and spread her arms outwards pinning her arms down onto the bed. He looked into her eyes. Annabelle hadn’t seen that look in a long time, it always made her insides churn. A look of pity and hunger, as if a predator preparing to devour wanted to check on the well-being of his prey. Annabelle tried to relax as she surrendered to her lover who was taking pleasure in removing her shirt and unclipping the pretty gingham balcony bra she had chosen to wear.
As Robin’s kisses descended further down, Annabelle let out gasps of pleasure. Robin smiled at her flushed face and gazed into Annabelle’s eyes. Stroking her hair he murmured, “Love you.”
Those two words caused a sob came up into Annabelle’s throat, preventing her from expressing her emotion verbally. What escaped from her mouth was a whimper.
“No tears!” Robin kissed Annabelle’s forehead. Annabelle shook her head and pursed her lips together determined to keep control of herself. Robin pulled back and looked at her and sighed. He drew back from the bed. Annabelle watched him, anxious as to why he was leaving her.
Robin began to unbutton his shirt and pulled it off letting it fall to the ground. He unbuckled his belt and tugged down at his jeans. Almost without realizing what she was doing, she loosened the buttons of her own jeans and raised her hips so she could push them down. Annabelle forgot her own nakedness as she kept her eyes fixated on her lover as he walked to the side of the bed and lent forward to kiss her. His hand stroked the back of her head.
Annabelle felt sick in her stomach. She was not ready for this. She still hated what he had done in London. If it was down to her to forgive him, she needed more time. This closeness was too early. Yet, with every look and every touch, her hurt over what he had done faded. Pain gave way to pleasure. The hunger for him swallowed up the resentment. Soon the couple were unabashed in making love to each other with great energy.
That morning spent in each other’s arms, there was very little conversation, but a great deal of communication. The two lovers had no difficulty remembering their first year together before challenges had come along. They both craved to return to that period of excitement and comfort and fun.
There came a point in Annabelle’s mind when she realized that whether she had been ready or not, by consenting to the intimacy between them, she had agreed to let go of the past. There was no question of punishing Robin for the grief he had caused her, after the two of them had re-established this bond. Her insides were nauseous with the awareness that this was a choice she might end up regretting, despite the magic of being with him again.
Robin ran his left arm underneath Annabelle and wrapped her up in his arms. The two of them lay there, whispering to each other, stroking each other. Their legs became entangled, and gradually they both drifted into sleep. The kind of sleep that two people who trust each other and feel no fear and no shame enjoy.