Thirty second climaxes brought about with throat and mouth;
climaxes he used to swear he’d never achieved by oral fixation. Her bruised
flesh, tender to the touch, brought upon by exquisite pleasure. Then there was
the moment the pleasure turned to pain: her pain. Tears and confessions, a
shattered spirit beginning to heal because of supposedly sincere words. Words
that turned to ash as the excuses dripped from his lips on the day the tears
refused to be held back. Back against the closed door, she crumpled to the
ground an anguished cry silenced as salt water streamed. For want of one more
kiss, one more dance of tongues, one more fevered embrace, she’s made a
decision too quick to be sane, too slow to be fleeting.
Blond hair, blue eyes, hard muscle, sweet smile. Whispered
conversation, bubbling laughter. A brush of legs, a lingering gaze; swift seduction
is always easy, but it rarely ever feels right. They play the game, both of
them knowing that’s all it is; knowing it’s only a temporary ease from the ache
of their broken hearts, hoping to find some semblance of solace in each others’
arms. She beckons, he follows; he touches, she yearns. The music gets louder,
the lights get brighter; their bodies embrace as they take temptation to the
dance floor. Fingers in his hair, hands around her waist, flesh moving in
tandem to some secret melody inside their heads; mere moments on the dance
floor turn banked lust into a raging tempest.
His hands lock her arms to her side as she twists around,
blue eyes meeting brown; stockinged feet tiptoe off three-inch stilettos as her
face lifts to his and his hands slip under her shirt. Their lips touch as the
music and crowd fades; her body ignites as her spirit shatters once more.
Not really a proper piece, but it needed to be written; comments always welcome :) -BR
© Briar Rose
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