🔞5EX: SUSTAINED OBLITERATION🔞

Life

We are both up, showered and dressed by 06:15, which is impressive considering the fact we didn't arrive back at our hotel until 01:45, then fucked like rabbits for nearly 2 hours, finally falling into bed exhausted but at least in my case, unsatisfied at almost 04:00!
I have no idea why I feel this way. My body is aching, I'm sore, sweating and covered in the evidence of our mutual and multiple feelings of pleasure, but something is missing!

But what?

I lay awake, my body immobilised by the exhaustion our activities caused, but my mind has gone into overdrive, turning the whole event, and our relationship over and over, trying to find the reason I am unfulfilled after arguably the most vigorous and physically fantastic sex of my life.
Don't I love him? Is that it? Have I fallen out of love? Did I ever love him at all? Are we over before we even really begin? How do I feel about that?
So many questions, no answers, just speculations that I don't want to consider. Is he my missing piece, my light in the darkness, my safe place, my future? Or is he just a distraction from the horrors I've dealt with for the last few years? Am I only using him to validate myself as an attractive, sexy, independent woman?
Harry really has messed up my mind. I don't believe these ridiculous notions that my brain keeps reporting, I KNOW I love Yanni.

But how much?

Is it enough?

Does he deserve more? Someone who isn't shattered into a million tiny shards! They say with the right tools, time and patience anything shattered can be pieced back together, but it can never be the same again can it? The cracks will always remain, forever more vulnerable to even the slightest knock. Can I ever be fixed?

We are sitting silently in the lounge area of our hotel suite attempting to eat at least a little of the continental breakfast we have just had delivered by room service.
The rich aroma of the Colombian dark roast coffee assaults my nose, so fragrant I feel that I can already taste it on my tongue.
Yanni pours us each a cup and hands me mine wordlessly. I smile as thanks and place the tiny espresso cup to my lips, sipping the bitter liquid, inhaling the rich chocolate, roasted nut and citrus aromas. It is amazingly good and I knock back the whole shot, blood rushing to my brain after only a few seconds. I pour myself another and tip that down in one too. My stomach is now clenching painfully as my brain registers hunger after the caffeine kickstart!
While spreading some chunky raspberry jam onto a warm and flaky butter croissant, the knife feeling heavy in my hand, I am pondering these questions, arguing with myself internally, negating all points made by my emotionally broken psyche with passionate logic and reason when I hear him speak, although not clearly. I put down the croissant that I knew I wasn't going to eat anyway and take him in.
He looks beautiful as ever, his recently coloured hair falling onto his brows, my heart skipping a beat as he gazes back at me with a look of concern on his face.
That's got to be love right? When just looking at someone momentarily stops your heart?

'Maybe' is the word that immediately springs to mind, doesn't your heart race when you're in the throes of lust too!? Yes it does, but are 'skipping a beat' and 'racing' the same thing?!
I don't know!

"Syd?!" he says, causing me to refocus on his face, his look of concern has deepened, his brows low and his mouth turned up at one corner.

"Yes Yanni, sorry, away with the fairies! What did you say?" I smile weakly.

He places his cup back down onto the serving tray and leans over the small coffee table between us, reaching for my hand which is clamped between my knees with its twin. Smiling he repeats his sentence.
"I asked you, three times actually, how you are feeling about today. Are you nervous? Do you want to cancel?! Don't put pressure on yourself. Its ok if you've changed your mind about seeing him, we can leave it today and rearrange for another time if you want to" he reassures me soothingly, running his thumb over lefty whom he has wrangled from between my knees and away from its pair.