Hannah Moore

5 days ago | coupletherapist.medium.com | Hannah Moore

It wasn’t the sex. It was how he poured my wine. Slow. Focused. Like he had all the time in the world — and I was the only woman on Earth. And that’s what made me wet. Because before him, I was used to men who rushed. Rushed the kiss. Rushed the clothes off. Rushed the orgasm. Like they were racing toward a finish line I never signed up for. But he? He moved like a man who knew pleasure was a process. He didn’t just undress me. He unwrapped me. One sleeve at a time. One button at a time.

5 days ago | coupletherapist.medium.com | Hannah Moore

Some women want roses. I wanted rope. And not metaphorically — I mean actual rope. Around my wrists. Maybe around my ankles too, depending on the night. Tied just tight enough to remind me I wasn’t in charge here — not in this room, not with him. But before you think this is another kinky confession from a bored housewife with too much time and a Tumblr account — let me stop you right there. This is about something deeper. Something primal.

5 days ago | coupletherapist.medium.com | Hannah Moore

You ever do something so crazy, so outside your usual persona, that afterward, you don’t even recognize yourself in the mirror? That was me, last Saturday night. No alcohol. No drugs. Just a wild idea, a man I trusted too much, and a corner of a rooftop no one was supposed to be on. He whispered, “Let me taste you right here.”And like a goddamn idiot — or maybe a goddess — I nodded.

6 days ago | coupletherapist.medium.com | Hannah Moore

It wasn’t supposed to go that way. We were just arguing — you know, the kind of fight that simmers with heat under every sharp word. He was standing close, too close, jaw clenched, and I was pushing every one of his buttons because, deep down, I wanted to see what would happen when he snapped. And then he did. In one quick, dominant move, he gripped my hair, tilted my head back, and growled in my ear, “Be quiet.” My whole body lit up.

6 days ago | coupletherapist.medium.com | Hannah Moore

He finally understood this…I wasn’t planning to sleep with him. But he made it impossible to say no — and even harder to stop. It started with his hands. Not groping, not rushing — just resting on my thighs like they belonged there. Like he knew he had all night and wasn’t afraid to take his time. We were still clothed, and yet my heartbeat was already racing. His fingers traced lazy circles on the inside of my knee, moving up inch by inch, but never where I expected.