faith

Vulnerability.

Insecurity.

I know these things.

I also know you.

I know the flutter of your heartbeat under my thumb when my hand is wrapped around your throat.

I know your scent when my lips brush the back of your thighs as you are bent over my desk.

I know the line of hunger with you; when my own desire wars with the space I place to stay in control. I know your surrender tests it. Your caught breath presses against it. And your bared skin, brightened red from my hand or blushing with need, almost always breaks it.

I have faith in you.

But if you are unsure. Have faith in me.

I need you to find your feet.

And then find your knees.