Black & White

CHAPTER 8: the flesh

I try not to pay attention, but Beatris is just so clueless how hot she fucking looks like to me right now. Her collarbone is obvious, her lips are suddenly attractive to me.

I wonder what would it feel like to kiss her

So I impulsively leaned in, both my arms on her side to balance myself.

Her lips are soft and warm, her breath is, too. When I sense her lips not moving, I almost pull away. But even before I could, she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer to her. Her lips suddenly kissing me back. I try to push away all the thoughts I have in mind.

I try not to think of it.

Of her.

I don't know how Beatris would be in bed, but I admit that she's a sly fox because she manage to be on top of me in a moment. Harry must've had a good sex with her, I suddenly thought.

My hands running through her warm skin, slowly climbing up. She leans closer to kiss me, this time passionate. The air conditioner is on and it's actually cold here, but us, body to body; it's easy to assume that it's not. But since I was the one who turned the air conditioner on, I couldn't.

I started taking my shirt off. I feel so fucking warm inside. All the electric current are alive and flowing freely everywhere inside of me. I run my hands on the curve of her hips. Fuck, she's hot. We switch position. My lips find its way to hers, and from time to time, she sexily bites my bottom lip. Her moan is just making my inner self yearn for more. I break free from the kiss and starts to take her shirt off too.

I stare at her for a moment. Because, fucking hell. She is motherfucking hot. I plant a kiss on her forehead, then I move down to the tip of her nose, to her lips, to her collarbone, until I reach her stomach. I hear her making weird, yet sexy noises. I undo my belt and she lifts her arms, covering her face. I wish I hadn't. I fucking wish I hadn't started it. She started crying now.

All the electric current and warmth that I was feeling a while ago are suddenly gone and completely cold dead. I grab her hand and put it away off her face. "Look, I'm sorry." I said, looking at her in the eyes. You're just the greatest asshole, Alexander. The greatest among assholes.

"It's not you. It's me," her legs still in between mine, but her chest is already covered of her soft white pillow, "I suddenly thought if this is this how I'm going to cure my loneliness. It hits me.

All my thoughts are back; she's back.

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From the author:

I must admit that I have one hell of a dirty mind, but due to my lack of vocabulary, It gets utterly limited and less interesting. I'm still making a way for that, though. But in the meantime, I hope this one will do.