I know it's been five years, but i don't get why people expect me to be so over what happened. I know we were both young. Well, I was anyways. I was fourteen. But I'm an adult now, I know how to handle myself. So why are people so worried about Drew and I?
-March 16th 1965, Claire Moreau
Chapter One:
"Claire," I heard the husky, familiar morning voice, "Lay back down," I felt the bed shift as Drew rolled over to look at me with a look I memorized. Glassy, tired eyes with a hint of lust left over from last night's events.
"Drew, baby," I smiled softly, turning my head to look at him with soft eyes. God, i thought to myself, he's gorgeous. So... why do I miss Jamie? Even after all that... bastard did, the love I once felt for him was deeply woven into the strings of my heart. I felt an arm wrap around my waist.
"Round two?" Drew smirked huskily, eyes glazing over further with lust.
"Tonight." I said, pulling his arm from my naked waist. I stood up and took two shaky steps to my vanity chair. I grabbed my pair of cute undies and pulled them on, strapping on my matching polka dot bra. "Drew, come help me with my corset."
I heard the springs in the bed pop as he crawled out of bed and sauntered over to me. I wrapped the corset around my abdomen and smiled as he started to lace it up, tightly. The way I like it. "It's more fun," he whispered in my ear when he was done, wrapping his arms around me. "Ripping it off and ravaging you," he finished with a long deep kiss to my neck that left my knees shaking.
"Keep teasing like that," I whispered back, turning my head to face him, "and I might just give in," I blinked slowly and suddenly he was kissing me. Not roughly or hard, but softly and sweet at first. This was almost new, he hadn't done this since before we first made love. He turned me around to where I was fully facing him, pressed close up against him, the kiss deepening.
"Claire," he pulled away, suddenly looking away, "god I want you." His hands slid down my sides, cupping my breasts as he slid down them.
Reluctantly, I pulled away. "I need to finish getting ready if I want to get to school on time," I sighed and kissed him softly. "Tonight I promise."
He pouted, but nodded softly and walked back to the bed, sticking his hand down his boxers. I laughed softly, and slipped on my light pink sundress. Pulling on my Sneakers, i blew him a kiss and left.
YOU ARE READING
This Lost Hope of Mine
RandomClaire, a nineteen year old art student is struggling again. She doesn't understand. Things were great. She had Drew, she had friends, she was recognized for her art. So why were things getting bad again, after five years?
