Remedial Heart (LeAga)

twenty-eight

*Contents in this chapter may contain scenes not appropriate for young readers

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He helped her out of the car. Bending down, he sweeps her up in his arms and starts to carry her until they reach the door of her bedroom.

He takes her inside and somehow managed to remove her clothes and his before she even know what's happening. He does it slowly —sweetly seductive. He's kissing her so tenderly that it steals her breath.

He then lay her back in the middle of the bed, and he's on top of her, hard and heavy between her legs and content to just hold her face and kiss her softly. He does that for so long that she seem to lapse into a contented alternate reality, focusing on the feel of his lips and the texture and taste of his tongue —she miss that... she miss him.

Aga's lips move from her mouth to her jaw, down to past her collarbone, where he takes his time with her breast. Aga is devouring her, biting and pinching to get the most arousal of her. That moment, he was so gentle and careful.

His fingers work like butterflies between her legs, pulsing flutters across her most sensitive parts. She builds her up slowly until she come apart in a slow burst of euphoric feeling within her body.

Pushing up on his elbows, Aga hovers above her. His eyes are serious, she can read right then what those looks mean for. Now, he slowly moves inside her, his lips inches from her. She can smell the wine on his breath and hear his rapid heartbeat.

They stare at each other, boldly and candidly. He pumps into her carefully, drawing out every bit of feeling and nuance as their flesh slides against each other. He makes love to her, all while staring into her eyes.

The climax starts building again and she can tell that he's close as his hips move a little faster. He grabs her hand and pulling her arms above her head, she raise her knees to accomodate him deeper.

Faster, faster.

The sound of music wakes Lea up. She rolls over, glancing at the alarm clock; it was already nine o'clock. Was it a dream? or was it reality? she thinks again, deeply. It looks and feels so real.

She stares at the ceiling then a pricky pain strikes her head. Fuck, Tequila.

She found herself wearing a silk nighties, no bra and with only a lacy underwear and when she looks around, she sees Aga's pants and the polo shirt he wear last night at the edge of the bed. Oh my lord, no way. She was worried, it might be the answer to her questions.

She checks her phone and clicks the MedApp, again... the last time she'd done it was three years ago and she became pregnant. She's consulting the application again —now, fearful. She browse the OB-GYN section and enters the last day of her menstrual cycle. A fertility diagram appears and just like what it appeared three years ago... she is fertile.

No, no, no, this is not right. This is stupidity, I am stupid. This is crazy, I am crazy, she tells herself. She knows it Was Just. A. Dream. She breathes and shakes her head. Again, she tells herself —reassuring, reminding, reiterating that she is sure It. Was. Just. A. Dream. And maybe, the alcohol in her system is mentally incapacitating her.

But the other side of her is doubtful; What are those pants and shirt doing in her bed? why is she wearing a clothing with just an underwear to somehow cover her being?— she usually wear pajamas and why her body feels so sweetly exhausted? No, she tries to erase those thoughts in her head.