03-20-2018, 12:47 PM
Three whiskies left her counterpart with only some lowered inhibitions (for it's been months - years - since his divorce, and only today had he found her, grabbed her, finally claimed her as his own), but the same amount in her small frame left her reeling. Not blacked out, per-say, but gone enough that her mind had slipped out from beneath her like a rug, leaving her flat on her back in a room where she once could have told you if any object weren't in its perfect position.
The prescription anti-depressants she took that morning might have something to do with her altered state, too, but she can't remember that now; can only feel his tongue tracing her mouth, his hands on her hips, pulling her closer until they grind together with a delirious need. (After all these years. After all the stares at Ice, the little brushes of a hand on her lower back as he excused himself past her, the way she'd smile at him from across the office. And... After she'd been let go. Not that she'd been an employee in the first place, though her own father owned the damn company. As she looks at him now, she remembers his words, swath in regret, but also in an unintended condescension. You know I cannot give you that, Xiah.)
"Brynmor," She moans, flinching as his teeth send shiver down her spines from where they bite her ear. "Brynmor..." Eyes half-closed, she turns around, grabbing his hands and placing them on her hips as she presses her rounded bum into the man's crotch, tilting her head back so that her curly black hair falls on his broad shoulder. "Is this where you had me, every time you looked at me from across the room?" Gently, she brings his hands up to her chest, pressing them there, circling her hips against him as her words come both scathingly and seductively. "Pressed against you with no one else around? No wife, no work... Just me." Her fingers close around his, forcing him to grab her, knowing that he barely needs the encouragement. "I can't have a job, but this, here, us, is the kind of fucked I don't mind being."
She wonders if he can tell how angry he is, through her slurred flirtations and delirious hip movements. She wonders if he can taste the bitterness on the back of her neck, the bitterness at having been chose second, at barely having been chosen at all: just a coincidence, just a one night stand, just someone to fill the void in his bed as he mourned the loss of a wife who he'd chosen first.
The prescription anti-depressants she took that morning might have something to do with her altered state, too, but she can't remember that now; can only feel his tongue tracing her mouth, his hands on her hips, pulling her closer until they grind together with a delirious need. (After all these years. After all the stares at Ice, the little brushes of a hand on her lower back as he excused himself past her, the way she'd smile at him from across the office. And... After she'd been let go. Not that she'd been an employee in the first place, though her own father owned the damn company. As she looks at him now, she remembers his words, swath in regret, but also in an unintended condescension. You know I cannot give you that, Xiah.)
"Brynmor," She moans, flinching as his teeth send shiver down her spines from where they bite her ear. "Brynmor..." Eyes half-closed, she turns around, grabbing his hands and placing them on her hips as she presses her rounded bum into the man's crotch, tilting her head back so that her curly black hair falls on his broad shoulder. "Is this where you had me, every time you looked at me from across the room?" Gently, she brings his hands up to her chest, pressing them there, circling her hips against him as her words come both scathingly and seductively. "Pressed against you with no one else around? No wife, no work... Just me." Her fingers close around his, forcing him to grab her, knowing that he barely needs the encouragement. "I can't have a job, but this, here, us, is the kind of fucked I don't mind being."
She wonders if he can tell how angry he is, through her slurred flirtations and delirious hip movements. She wonders if he can taste the bitterness on the back of her neck, the bitterness at having been chose second, at barely having been chosen at all: just a coincidence, just a one night stand, just someone to fill the void in his bed as he mourned the loss of a wife who he'd chosen first.