Oʟɪᴠᴇʀ
My fingers toy with hers gently, watched with great intensity as they twist, slotting perfectly as though designed to fit into the waiting spaces of hers, only to pull away and trace the skin of each knuckle. I assume she watches too, though I can see only the top of her hair - now astray succeeding our bedroom activities - as she lays her head on my bare chest, one that lifts and falls with tranquil contentment. We haven't dressed, only entwined ourselves with the blanket and one another as we sought out measured breaths following a staccato of grunts and moans and breathless words of love.
"What are you thinking about?" She asks me quietly.
"Hm?" Is all I manage to reply before tilting my head to try and catch a small glance of her still flushed face.
"Your heartbeat is racing." She tells me, and spurred my the movement, she too turns her head, watching me through a tangle of lashes. I grin, straining to graze my lips on her hairline.
"About what just happened." I decide to admit fondly. Her entire body turns now, pressed against me - leg thrown over mine that lay beneath the quilt, stomach flat against my hip and her arm perched on my chest to act as leverage to lift her head. Shamelessly, as though the pair of them haven't been in my mouth, I glance at her breasts with maintained awe.
She notices, and though she blushes, she makes no move to hide my view. "Why? It's happened before."
"But this time will be a far more vivid memory." I say, taking to trailing my fingers in languid patterns along her forearm.
"It wasn't supposed to happen this way." She goes on to admit, resting her chin on my chest too. I watch her intently, searching for something that will alert me to her thoughts, but, unlike the expressions of euphoria that were blatant only a few moments ago, she now remains stoic, unreadable.
My brows furrow on their own accord. "Do you regret it?"
"No!" She answers with unfaltering certainty. Hurrying to sit, she pulls the blanket to cover herself and takes my face in her hands. "I don't regret it, we were just meant to have a conversation first."
My lips purse in thought, crease forming between my kitted brows which she takes to ironing out with gentle sweeps of her thumb. "Does the order of events this evening really change the outcome?"
"Do we even have an outcome?" She retorts.
Shuffling, I sit upright and my gaze sweeps across her figure. "Well, I've just made you come twice, so I think the outcome is pretty clear." A rope of red tightens around her neck, crawling towards her cheeks.
"Do you have to be so crass?" She scoffs, drooping her head so that curtains of blonde shade her embarrassment.
With a laugh, I thread my fingers into her hair, ultimately lifting her face towards me and place a chaste kiss to her lips. "I'm sorry. I just mean, we obviously both have feelings for each other, so why would the outcome be any different than this?"
She arcs a cynical brow. "You'd have still wanted to sleep with me after I spoke about what really happened with Daniel?"
"Probably even more, just to prove I'm better than he ever will be." She manages a small grin.
"How very arrogant of you." She chimes, taking her hair from my hands and laying it behind her shoulders.
"And I bet I'm right to believe that you wouldn't have admitted your feelings for me after I told you I want a divorce." Instantly, her face drops, the atmosphere shifts and she all but scrambles away.
YOU ARE READING
In Drunken Matrimony ✔️
Teen Fiction[WATTYS 2022 SHORTLIST] Oliver Osborne is known to most as impulsive, nonchalant, and just downright stupid. That said, it came as no surprise when he accidentally tied the knot in Las Vegas two years ago. What is surprising is that he was stupid e...
