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But while his breath in my ear is getting shallower, raspier, catching in the same rhythm of his thrusts, and he’s getting closer to coming, I’m becoming more afraid.
Not of him.
But of me.
And what I feel for him.
Because I love him. I love him so fucking much and I know how hard I’m clinging to that love right now because I’m so scared of loss.
I’m scared of losing my mother, scared of losing him.
Scared of losing my heart, even though it’s already his.
With another deep, guttural moan his hand slips down to my pussy, gliding over my clit, and I’m so wet he barely has any control, he’s just sliding around and then I’m coming.
The orgasm hits me, and it goes straight for the heart.
“Oh my god,” I scream as it tears me into pieces. “I love you!” I gasp. “God, I love you so much.”
And there it is.
I love you.
The thing I was afraid of.
Wolf stills for a moment when those words fill the air, and then he keeps pounding me, faster and harder than ever and he’s kissing me, groaning into my gaping mouth as he comes. The orgasm takes him hard, his back arched, and I’m staring at the wide expanse of his impossibly strong body, and I’m marveling at how someone so big and powerful can look so vulnerable at the same time. He’s gasping like he can’t breathe and he stills for a moment, his lips parting in a cry before he shudders, coming inside me.
I’m still shaking, but it’s my heart that’s trembling the most.
Because I told him I love him.
And I know he heard me.
And he hasn’t said it back.
Wolf then collapses against me, his full weight, and then makes a move to push himself up, but I immediately hold him against me, not wanting to let go.
“I hope I didn’t scare you,” I whisper, trying to wrangle my thoughts and feelings before they run away on me. I am so fucking vulnerable right now, what am I even doing?
“Scare me?” Wolf repeats. He glances down at me, his expression softening. “You could never.”
And yet I feel just a touch of fear from him.
I don’t want you to say it back, I want to say. You don’t have to say it back.
But I don’t say it because I’m afraid if I do, that he’ll take it to heart and never will.
I spent the last three days with my mother at the hospital, but when midnight rolled around, Wolf insisted on taking me home to go to sleep. Sometimes we have sex, other times we hit the bed and fall asleep right away. I feel guilty leaving my mother at night, but I have to say it’s doing me some good to just have some distance from the hospital. To feel real and somewhat whole again.
To revel in being in love.
That said, the morning walk through the long labyrinth of corridors of the hospital does another thing to my stress levels. When I was sleeping in the waiting room of the ICU, I was constantly immersed in everything that was going on. I was constantly checking on my mom, talking with the nurses for updates. When I’ve been at home at night, I’ve lived in fear that they would give me a call and tell me she’s dead, or give me some hopeful update, but they never called.
And yet walking to the ICU, I’m so terrified that the moment I step in there’s going to be some negative change that’s going to rip the rug out from under me. I know I should also think that it could be a positive change, but my mind doesn’t go there. So, every step I take, I feel like my feet are asleep and I’m sort of floating as I go.
“Remember to breathe,” Wolf reminds me, his hand grasping mine tightly. “It’s probably just status quo.”
And it has been for the last few days. She’s not getting worse, thank god, but she’s not getting any better. Each day I step in there I know from the tight look on the nurses’ faces that they want faster improvements but I just want to tell them to back off. She needs more time! Don’t they understand that?
“But since it probably is status quo, we should maybe start looking into some plans for your mother,” Wolf continues. “We don’t know the extent of the brain damage, but it could be quite minor. Either way though, we should plan for the worst, like what if she’s unable to walk.”
“Right,” I think that over. I hate the idea of my mom like that but being handicapped or having a disability isn’t the end of the world, so long as she’s alive and with us. The doctors keep talking about quality of life, but as long as she’s able to enjoy music and laugh and be happy and feel loved, that’s all the quality you need. Right?
