Before I became active on WordPress, I wrote a short story. I love writing and I dream of becoming an author someday. We all know that’s not going to happen in no time. So, instead of sitting around, dreaming big, I decided I’d write short stories before getting anywhere. Because I’m certain it was not in vain that they said, ‘The secret to getting ahead is getting started.’ I think I’m obsessed with romanticism and that’s probably because there came a time in my life when I read too much of Sarah Mclean and Lisa Kleypas. Nevertheless, I hope you like my short story.
Fool me again
The smoky scent of his perfume languidly spread through the door to fondle her breath.
Her eyes closed into the most seductive slits as she felt his presence -on the thick copper rug, lying on his stomach. The position exposed his perfectly tanned skin through the thin layer of the white linen he wore.
‘Back?’ the words slipped off her red lips in a tone that promised pleasure. Regardless of how much she desired to descend and wrap her arms around him for a searing kiss, there was something that held her back. He lifted himself from the ground and sat up. His pitch black gaze held a depth she longed to conquer, his knees propped up against his chest, his hands casually wrapped around his legs. His hair, an utter mess. Her gaze caressed the carefully crafted angles of his features; the gap between his brows that lead to an irresistible slide of his nose, the soft plump of his cheeks, the loosening of his clenched jaw as he felt her gaze turning more intense. He smiled at her and she couldn’t help but revel in the luxurious moment. There was something about looking at him. There was ecstasy…and much more when his lips curved around the words, ‘For you.’
The warmth of the tears welled down her cheek and broke her reverie. Her eyelids protested as she tried to open them. The nefarious howl of the wind blew the curtains over the lamp, making it flutter. The light from the street outside shone through the half-opened glass, embracing the velvety, blue fur of her comforter. She disturbed the crisp of the sheets under her as she rolled over, struggling.
There was everything in the air that night. Except that there was nothing smoky about it. Perhaps that was why it felt so empty. The rug, idle. A memory flashed and she had but one desire- to touch the crinkles that would appear at the corner of his eyes every time he smiled. Her throat ached as a thought struck her and she realized the depth his gaze held was the one she was afraid to conquer. There was something about the fear that resided in her.
There was longing.