December 2025 – Listen Here

I have always adored the voluptuous theater of bodies – every contortion, every elegant or ruinous configuration two lovers might surrender to. There are nights when insatiate need runs rampant, when the gale of craving whips bodies into a fevered cyclone, where limbs snarl together in a feral tempest of nails and teeth and flesh colliding like storm-bent waves. 

But not all nights unfurl in such unbridled abandon. There are nights when pleasure is capricious, temperamental, delicate. Nights shadowed by bruised feelings, by the metallic sting of jealousy, by tenderness not yet fully sutured shut. Forgiveness may be granted, murmured, even believed – but the pilgrimage back to seamless intimacy often winds through imperfect angles, hesitant configurations of heart and sinew.

Such was this particular night – awkward, a shade unharmonized. After dinner, Jack and I slipped into bed, laughing at the shocking cold trapped beneath the quilts on the first truly frigid evening of winter. Our unacclimated bodies shivered, gooseflesh rising in shivering constellations. I hauled him down atop me, desperate for the ember-warmth banked inside his marrow, resisting (badly) the wicked temptation to trail my glacial toes along the carved muscle of his bare calf.

I looked up into those husky hazel eyes and breathed – begging my own form to unclench, to release the frustration still simmering like dark embers beneath my ribs. As our bodies rediscovered their consecrated rhythm, my Inner Goddess – half-mad with abstinent hunger – opened for him with greedy, thrumming gratitude.

The position should have undone me. Gods, it nearly did. Especially when Jack hooked one of my legs over his crooked arm, granting him deeper dominion, or when he lifted my pale legs and draped my ankles over his broad shoulders, his chest brushing the backs of my calves as he drove into me with devastating intent. My vision splintered into star-littered shards. Bliss hovered – ripe, quivering, nearly catastrophic…

Yet some fragile thread of me resisted, a tiny nerve refusing surrender.

So we reconfigured. 

I rolled to all fours, cheek sinking into the plush mattress, derriere offered high into the cold-bitten air, my exposed skin prickling like frost-kissed starlight. Jack thrust into me with exquisite wickedness, each stroke a sharp, echoing benediction. He awakened my Inner Goddess until she groaned with monstrous yearning. I moaned into the fluffed pillow, half-feral with need. My nectar slid warmly down my thighs into the waterproof blanket beneath me – my body deliriously responsive – but still, some unspoken chord refused to be struck.

So I sank flat to the mattress, wholly prone.

Jack adjusted behind me, slowing, deepening, savoring. His broad, reverent palms swept across my shoulders, down along the winged hollows of my scapulae, two fingers tracing the length of my spine like a cartographer mapping forbidden topography. He drifted to the rise of my hips, cupped my waist in a wide, possessive cradle, then slid upward to the soft swell of my breasts where they spilled from my ribcage.

And gods… something in me faltered at the sheer steadiness of him.

Even after the temper I had flung like a blade, after the sharp, needless bite of my own tempest, he did not recoil. He did not withdraw into cold distance or demand I chase him back from whatever edge I’d driven us toward. Instead, he touched me with a quiet, unfaltering tenderness, unafraid of the storm-wrath and anxious shadows I had worn like armor. His patience — his impossible, maddening patience — baffled me, loosening something deep and long-twisted inside my chest.

Something inside me… unwound.

Forgiveness. Chagrin. The bone-deep fatigue of a woman who has carried the world too long upon her back.

I melted beneath him, suffused with a femininity so profound it made my breath stutter. It felt as though he were memorizing me anew – cataloging every contour, every tremor, every secretive hollow of flesh.

And then – beautifully, accidentally – the world shifted on its axis.

I arched my hips in instinct, too enchanted by his touch to remember human speech. The motion pressed my mound against his hard plane, his Adonis belt a ridged altar against which my heart-shaped curves offered themselves. The movement dragged him inside me, his thickening crown grazing some hidden, quivering alcove that detonated bright, star-stung ecstasy.

I did it again. And again. 

Tilting my hips downward into the forgiving mattress before lifting them, grinding back into him with mounting hunger. Jack growled something terrible and the rumble curled my toes while my Inner Goddess sank her teeth into her lower lip in sinful delight.

He met my motion with precise, primal precision. Our bodies began to grind, circle, collide – a slow crescendo of ruinous pleasure mounting note by perilous note.

And then I knew.

This was the position.
The missing hinge.

The dark, glimmering fulcrum upon which our bodies finally, gloriously opened.

We moved in a rhythm older than language – my hips rising and bucking, Jack’s tempo mounting into a delirious, carnal fury. The room dissolved around us. Breath broke. Time fractured.

And at last – the eruption. The volcanic, obliterating crescendo we had both been hunting through the cold and the ache and the shadows of the night.

We remained trapped in that blinding rapture, my lower back curved into an impossible U-shaped contortion that I knew would exact its toll come morning. Yet I offered it gladly, sacrificial, chasing the rapture with a kind of holy derangement. My scream tore into the pillow – a muffled but ferocious cry, stuffed with every fragment of heartache, every shard of irritation, every jealous splinter I had carried like poison through my veins.

All of it bled out of me.
All of it finally found the violent, blessed outlet my body, mind, and soul had been begging for.

The tether between Jack and me snapped taut anew as we surrendered every semblance of propriety. We spilled into each other with reckless devotion, dissolving into that mutual, catatonic release until we lay slick-skinned and panting, shuddering with the aftershocks of our own feral splendor.

When Jack rolled onto his back, I looked at him – truly saw him. Not through the haze of injured pride, not with jealousy smoldering behind my ribs, but with a softened, unguarded clarity. I saw the man who had stayed tethered to me even through our tempest…my tempest. And I felt my soul crave him…not only his physique this time, but his nearness, his presence, his steadfast gravity.

So I slowly crawled up the length of him, until I was straddling him without seeking penetration, settling my hips over his abdomen as though he were the hearth and I the shivering sparrow. My palm found his chest, pressing lightly over the breadth of muscle, feeling the thunder of his heart ebb toward calm. His warmth seeped into me – bronzed flesh, living, pulsing, anchoring.

In that suspended hush, something in me unclenched with a soft, embarrassed sigh.

That one position – that one accidental constellation of limbs and breath and angle – had not only shattered me open; it had restored something sacred.

My Inner Goddess, once ravenous and feral, now lay exquisitely sated. My mind, a snarl of frustration and pure anger for days, suddenly felt crystalline. Chastened. Clear.

And in that clarity, I whispered my truth to him; then, finding courage in our shared obliteration, I gave him the full shape of my perspective. Jack offered his in return – not defensive, not groveling, but with a masculine steadiness that tightened our bond in ways the body alone cannot replicate. In the cooling room, our breaths syncing, our pulses folding toward harmony, our hearts re-stitching beneath the silver starlight.

Two flawed creatures choosing – again – to meet in tenderness after the maelstrom.

Choosing to listen.
Choosing to remain.
Choosing each other.

Because one mighty, ruinous position cracked open the hidden door both of us had been too wary to touch.

And in that luminous afterglow, my heart – at long last – knew peace again.

Until next time, XO. Elsie