“Do you love me?”
Again the question. The fucking question. For the Nth time he asked. What did he expect? A sudden change of heart due to sheer stubbornness? I was just alone as he, but for that brief moment where we embraced naked after sex it was ok. No thinking, no talking, not even our moans or grunts, just our breathing and a sense of just….being there. I wanted, nor needed, anything more.
But then he spoke. He always did, sooner or later, ruining the moment. Fuck, how I hated that. Of course, I stayed silent and feigned I was asleep. Sometimes, I even snored lightly. Oddly enough, the days he didn’t ask, I held on a bit tighter to him.