My Kind of Woman

28. Porcelain That Cries

A.N: Happy Pride Month everyone! Thank you for all the kind comments you've been leaving recently, I always enjoy reading them. They always give me a boost to write the next chapter, so thank you all! Hope you enjoy this shorter piece.

The next morning was the last. The sun hovered over the house, its heat bleeding through the windows and onto my skin, bathing me in shine. It was bright, and jarring, and it woke me with the realisation that I had to part from this place.

At the foot of the bed, Jackie was loading an opened suitcase and humming to whatever was playing through her earphones. She hadn't noticed me sat up, bleary-eyed and emotional, skin too hot and mind too loud. I threw the covers off of me and sighed into my palms.

What if, childishly, I hid? And they left without me, hopeless that they wouldn't be able to find me. They'd go back and break the news to my dad, then open an investigation and look for months. All while I'd holed myself up in that house, enjoying whatever time I had left to myself. But that time would mean nothing if I wasn't with her. And there was no way I could convince her to do something as ridiculous as that.

Jackie was looking at me then, smiling, and I realised how much I really did love her. Another unfortunate factor. Throwing my life away for Mio would mean throwing Jackie away, in a way I knew she'd never forgive me for. I didn't want to lose her. Friendship like ours was not all too common, at least not to me. I didn't know whether I'd find another Jackie in my life. But, just the same, I'd never find another Mio. Was the question it came down to: which is more important to me?

"Something on my face?" She asked, rubbing the corners of her mouth.

"No," I said, shuffling to the edge of the bed, "I just love you, Jacks."

She grinned. "How cheesy! You woke up alright this morning then."

I smiled softly, sliding down off the bed to sit beside her. Something was aching in my chest. Like a sinkhole in the wood, exposing the naked roots of great oaks, my insides began to swirl and cave in. I felt my body changing with it. It wasn't just the sex, it wasn't just my deep attraction, it was so much more than that. I insisted on proving that I was not and never could be a pervert, a worm of mature fantasies. I was sick with it all. Sick with the things I was feeling for that woman.

The night before, Jackie and Mr. Reed had come through the door, exhausted and red with the glow of dusk. Mio and I had come back just half an hour before; she had spent a while in the shower, washing the smell of me and the sea off of her body. Though I couldn't really smell myself, I'm sure it was over her. Jackie had asked me, on the verge on sleep,

"What did you do all day?"

After twilight blushed on the horizon and the water started to grow into the cove, Mio waded out of the sea to shift our towels further up into the back of the curled rock. I followed her out slowly, smoothing my hair out of my eyes with my wrists and palms. Soon, that little area would be flushed out with water and we'd have to leave before the waves threw us against the rock, tearing our backs and leaving us with not a single excuse. But we still had time before then. Time to adore one another.

I hovered over her form, lay flat on the towel, then lowered my body to her. Our wet skin slid against each other, our thighs and tummies damp. Our mouths were weetter. Her hands were running up and down my back, squeezing and stroking when my tongue licked into her mouth.

"If we stay too long, we'll get washed away," she mumbled against my lips, not stopping to move.

"Then quickly," I whispered.

My hand slipped between our bodies, rubbing circles into her hips and her stomach, making her sigh sharply. And even sharper when my fingers brushed over her bikini bottoms. She gripped my waist, then hooked her arms up around the back of my neck, making it impossible for me to look down between us. I had to see with my fingers, guide them along the hem of her bottoms and have them sink down beneath. She moaned lowly into my mouth as I touched her. The crashing of the ebbing and flowing waves was our orchestra, matching her sounds, growing up close when my fingers dipped lower. She bucked her hips against my hand, and against my body, bringing my fingers back against her clit. I was breathing shallowly, feeling her breath come back up against my lips as she whined. I remembered thinking, I don't mind being washed away here, take me away.