unless you can Opening your eyes the morning after a mammoth cry session is always an extremely uncomfortable task. And I have no doubt that if my eyelids had the ability to emit sound during this process, they’d be screaming at me to press them shut again. Last night, after leaving Lawson by the river and slowly making my way home, I’d cried myself to sleep. Seeing him shattered and at a loss as to what he should do had broken my heart. After all, I was the one who’d begged him to go further ... begged him to make me feel good. And boy, had he made me feel good. He’d made me feel something I’d never felt before. It was hard to explain, but when I came apart on him, the immense explosion of varying emotions was like nothing I’d ever experienced. Pleasure had coursed through my body by his hand and, as a result, guilt had hit me with full force soon after. My first instinct had been to turn those feelings into anger, lashing out at him for no good reason.
