His lips were soft at first, before a roughness took over and he pressed his body to mine. My hands instantly go to his hair as he cups my cheek with his hand as the other turns into a fist next to my head.
A sigh leaves his mouth, like this is som...
"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." -Emily Brontё
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There's someone under me. That's my first thought when I wake up. I stir slightly, my hands pressing on something hard. Oh, wait. It's just Preece. I'm basically on top of him, my head on his chest and my legs tangled with his. His arm is around my waist, keeping me close to him.
His eyes open slightly, and he gazes at me, a small smile on his face. "Good morning, Alana." He says, and I roll off of him, sighing as my head hits the pillow.
"Preece. How'd you sleep?" I ask him. He turns to his side, holding his head up with his hand. His spare hand moves a strand of hair out of my face, curling it behind my ear. Then, his thumb strokes my cheek slowly.
"I dreamed about you." He says, smirking at me. I roll my eyes, swatting his hand away and turning to face the ceiling. I cross my arms over my chest and my mind flicks back to my mum. I'm thinking about visiting her today. It's been months, and I miss her and I need to see her again. "You will not believe what we were doing."
"I think I can guess." I sigh. Preece laughs, sitting up and slipping out of my bed.
"At first we were playing tennis together..." He says, and I internally gag. "And then, we weren't." He says. I roll my eyes, knowing what he is thinking and dreaming of. "It was a fun dream."
I move the covers, revealing the sheet covering the mattress. "At least you didn't wet the bed." I say, shrugging my shoulders. I quickly jumped out of bed, standing opposite him. Preece places his hands on the back of my thighs and pulls me in. His thumb caresses the skin of my hip.
"Are you feeling better?" He asks, gazing up at me. I look down at his mildly attractive face. He had gorgeous green eyes. Soft lips. Smooth, clear skin. Fluffy, dark hair. I clear my throat.
"Take your shirt off."
Preece raises his eyebrows. "What?"
"Take your shirt off." I say, looking down at him through my eyelashes.
"Why?" He asks, smirking at me.
"Preece." I say, sternly. "Take. Your. Shirt. Off." I told him.
He chuckles, shaking his head before gripping the neck of his shirt and pulling it over his head. I suppress the need to bite my lip as I gaze over his sexy body. His symmetrical abs, his tanned skin. I trace my hand over his shoulders and his chest before pushing him, his back hitting my bed. I place my hands on either side of him, climbing onto his lap.
"What are you doing-" He asks, but I place a finger to his lips. He licks my finger and I glare at him. I rub my hands over his chest and his abs, my fingers landing at the waistband of his cargo pants. "Alana." He warns, desire evident in his eyes.
"What?" I ask him. "Are you scared? Because, if you are-" I begin to get off of him, but he grabs my waist and holds me down.
"No." He says, taking my hand and placing them carefully on his stomach. "No, I'm not scared. Carry on." I grin and lower myself, my lips touching the skin of his chest. I trail kisses down until I reach his groin. I fumble with the belt of his cargos before pulling them down. Looking up to Preece, I see the desperation and desire on his face and it makes me smirk before I take him into my mouth.
Preece groans, his head hitting the bed. His hand goes to the back of my head as he slowly guides me.
I don't think I've ever given such a good blowjob before. Preece better be grateful.
***
I knock on the door of my childhood home, wringing my fingers together with nervousness. The door opens a minute later, by a dishevelled version of my mum. The version of her that is still mourning.
I can't bear to look at her. My gaze drops to the ground as I hear my mum's shaky breaths. "Hey, mum." I whisper as she pulls me in for a hug. Her hand is on the back of my head and her arm is around my back, squeezing me to her.
"Oh, my darling girl." She whispers into my hair. "My sweet baby." I hear her crying, and I'm frozen. Whenever mum cried in the past, it was never me who consoled her...
I watch as dad rushes down the stairs, a phone attached to his ear. Something was wrong. I follow him quietly as he runs into the living room, kneeling in front of my mother.
She's in tears. Her hands are covering her face, but I know her eyes are red with pain. I watch as dad slowly pried her hands away from her face, carefully dragging his thumbs under her eyes, wiping away her tears.
"It's okay." I hear him whisper. "I'm so sorry." He plants a kiss on her head and her hands are gripping his shirt with so much strength and weakness.
"I can't-" She struggles to speak. "I-"
"Ssh." My dad l says. "It's going to be okay. I promise."
That was the day both my parents found out that my mum's dad had died. And, for the next few months, nothing was the same at home. They were both mourning, and every night, I could hear my mum's cries from my bedroom. It was always my dad who comforted her.
"I'm so sorry, mum." I say. "I'm sorry for not speaking to you. It's just... everytime I look at you, I think of dad. And I don't want to think about him."
She stares at me, her head shaking slightly. "How difficult do you think it was for me?" She whispers.
"Mum-"
"Everytime I look at you..." She gasps, placing a shaky hands on her heart. "I see him. You have his eyes. And his smile. His hair. That beautiful, blonde colour."
"I'm... I'm sorry, mum." My voice breaks, and I can no longer keep eye contact. I feel her hands on my shoulder, trying to comfort me. "I didn't mean-"
"I don't blame you." She whispers. "For what happened. I just wish everything was different."
Oh, and did I mention? I'm the reason my dad is dead.
