The First Time She Begged Like It Was Prayer

She told me she didn’t kneel for anyone. Then she dropped to her knees like it was holy ground.

She said she wasn’t the begging type.
Said it like a warning.
Like a challenge.
Like something she’d convinced herself was true.

But her hips told a different story.
So did her breath.
And when I didn’t give her what she wanted—
not right away—
she looked at me like I’d swallowed God
and she was starving for scripture.

“Please.”
Soft.
Almost accidental.
Like it slipped out from somewhere older than language.

So I leaned in.
Not to kiss.
Not to touch.
Just to breathe beside her cheek and whisper:

“One more time. Slower.”

She blinked.
Bit her lip.
And said it again.
Not like a girl with manners.
Like a woman made of ache.

I hadn’t laid a hand on her yet.
She was already shaking.

Every moan was a psalm.
Every ask, a prayer.

If this already feels like a confession,
you might not be ready for what’s behind the veil.