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I picture his grin when he finished eating me. I see his eyes as he watched our connection. I remember his face when he entered me. I hear his whispered words when he slid home when we were spooning and the deliberate pull as we had lazy, slow, pulsing sex. I feel his heat stretch me and envelop me.
My body explodes as I come from my own fingers. That’s a distant second for sure. Layton is the best I’ll ever have, and now I freaking know what I can never have.
* * *
Layton
Confusion.
Flashing reds.
Shouts.
Whirring sirens.
Wetness oozing.
Metal crunching on metal.
Cold air.
Hot lights.
Voices.
Darkness clawing.
Numbness.
Screaming pain.
Life slipping.
… Blackness wins.
FOURTEEN
DUSTED IN FUZZ AND CRUMBS
LIVY
My yoga practice is the best I’ve had for as long as I can remember. It’s intentional, calming, and strong, and the waves roll in, keeping the pace for me in the movements and transitions.
Kyle relaxes on the beach. Nothing sets him on edge. In fact, he’s asleep on a blanket in the sand. His gentle snores lull me into an even deeper calm.
When I’m done, I fold into the sand beside him and do some breathwork exercises my therapist recommended when Tommy and I split. The split was insult added to injury. The lowest point in my life became a dark pit that I didn’t know how to climb out of.
Figuring out how to deal with never being enough and having the person who promised me forever say, in essence, I wasn’t worth standing by through thick and thin… Well, that required a professional.
She recommended several things, but the ones I could implement immediately and consistently at any point were breathwork and grounding.
I use it in my personal practice and even sneak it into my client’s therapy sessions. It never misses.
I’m not stressed today, but I won’t argue with extra calm.
By the time I’m done, I’m ready to take on the day.
In fact, I’m ready to take on Tally.
