Who Names The Colors

A muse

With the lights on, Jo could see the puddle that just the walk from the car had soaked into Harry's clothes and then onto the linoleum of her floor. The increasing spread of the water was moving from her front vision into her periphery. That's when her eyes fell closed. Jo neglected to count the moments that she absented herself from the pleasure of his mouth.

It had been weeks.

17 days she reckoned since she had left his place after their heartbreaking talk.

In her office, he held her, not so long ago. But that was also tinged blue by the sad talk they shared. It was odd, the small amount of time that had collapsed between when she was elated to see him, but had to let him down easy, had swallowed her heart back down from where Harry had brought it between her teeth, where it had fluttered in her throat when Victoria confronted her, and now. She felt so different after time away from him and his embrace.

Now her heart was back where it belonged. In the palm of his hand, beating wildly away. His kisses did something to her.

Harry had the most luscious lips. When she fell for him, lusted for him against her better judgement, that was what she knew would stick with her. The sense memory she would retain, dream of, long to recreate with any man thereafter, was the feel of his beestung lips on hers.

That first kiss in his studio, when she discovered herself in his painting, in his imagination and creation, Jo thought of it daily, at first on the hour, when she made herself wait to be with him, then it was a daily occurrence, though first times play in the mind like favorite movies.

There was a curl to the edge of his lips, a give the thick ribbons of pink from which that voice came out of. It nearly created a bounce. His words bobbed up and down through his smacking lips. But it had nothing on the effect the plumping brought to kissing. When Harry pressed his mouth to hers, it was satisfying, like popping bubble wrap. The reissirence of his fleshy pout against her own was a surprise, because his lips looked so soft, but felt so strong.

Unless you had spent a lot of time looking at the way they moved when he talked. Which Jo had done for the last several years, and paid a lot of attention to in the last six months. There the over fill of them that made them firm and ideal for kissing was more obvious. If the boundaries of his anatomy could barely contain them, she stood no chance.

"I love your lips." Her breath wrapped around her thoughts and snuck out. How it found space to exist when his whole self was against all of her, was unknown. The millimeters she found to fill with her adoration would usually be next rich with his chuckle. He knew she got a little overwhelmed by him, and things came out of her mouth she didn't expect. He would laugh sweetly at her. He enjoyed the stuttered syllables of his names, but also boozy utterances about whatever part of him captivated her.

There was no chuckle this time. Harry stopped kissing her, so she filled the air with a whine, and he continued to be silent. He pulled his face back enough to look at her.

Jo thought he must have seen what he was looking for, because the hold he had on her chin between his thumb and pointer finger opened up and he cradled her jaw, like one holds an egg, and guided her mouth back to his. The kiss gave her all of those amazing qualities about the bounce of his lips. He played between her own, switching focus until she panted, then slotted his face to the side and slid his tongue in. He tasted, he tasted like he always did, like the coffee he preferred and tonight, she assumed he had eaten roasted veg for dinner, she could taste the crisp, and then the bite of mint. Gum at some point then. He tasted like the end of a long day. And she walked through the door and kicked off her shoes and made herself at home in his kiss.

As comfortable as one could feel when being played like a flute. The swirl of his wet tongue turned her stomach and the strength of her knees had to be questioned. Harry sensed it, or needed her, because his arm came round her waist and clutched her hip to remove the whiff of space he'd created when he pulled back to stare at her.