I’m already all hers. All 6.3 of me and now I just need to make her mine. All 5.4 of her with pretty lips and generous hips.
Living with her, has made me learn things about her I wouldn’t have known otherwise. Her favorite newspaper is the Chicago Tribune, she’s allergic to red wine, almost only watches dating shows and laughs so hard at dirty jokes that she gets a hiccup.
She hates having the windows shut in the house, always preferring to leave them open even when it rains and she loves laundry day. And for some reason she doesn’t freak out, when she finds me doing things I shouldn’t.
Yesterday she caught me red handed. I wasn’t looking for a file, I was looking for something else but I couldn’t find it. There’s a question I need answered. One that’s been plaguing me for months.
The problem is that she’s usually in the house, making it hard for me to search through every corner. She’s in the shower right now and I should be in her bedroom but just for a couple of minutes I can’t help but to lean against the bathroom door, lean my cheek against the frame and close my eyes in delirium.
Steam seeps out of the crack, the smell intoxicating and I run my tongue over my teeth, imagining licking and swallowing her. I know she’d be all silky, no rough edges anywhere. Smoothness.
There’s nothing sharp about her, nothing harsh. She’s soft. And that’s why she needs me. She’s the diamonds on the handle of a dagger and I’m the blade, striking down on anything and anyone that tries to harm her.
If anything happens to her I’ll...I freeze when she lets out a shriek and there’s a thumping sound and I pound my fist on the door.
“Amber!” I bark and there’s a second, smaller shriek that makes me grind my jaw from worry. “Are you alright?”
“F...fine,” she stutters, doing nothing to calm me and I drag a ragged breath.
“You don’t sound fine,” I frown. “Open the door and let me see.”
“Can`t,” she answers, “think I’ve cracked open my skull.”
What the...”Amber, I’m kicking the door in, stand back...”
“No, stop!” A stream of sniggers reach my ears. “I’m kidding, it’s nothing. I just dropped my soap then slipped a little.”
“Did you fall, hurt yourself anywhere?”
“Ego’s pretty bruised.” She lets out another titter before taking a breath and relief floods me that she’s okay but I would have preferred if she didn’t play with me like that. “What are you doing outside the bathroom?”
Hell, how do I explain this away...?
“I was downstairs when I heard your scream and I rushed upstairs,” I try, hoping she’ll accept it. There’s a slight pause before there’s a response.
“Wow, you’re pretty fast then,” she murmurs and I graze my lip with my teeth.
“Used to run a ton when I was younger.” Not a lie, I’d been chased by thugs with knives and guns until I learned how to defend myself. “But if you’re sure you don’t need anything, I’ll let you finish your shower and I’ll go to bed.”
“Kay. Good night...Stan.”
I love it when she says my name like that, softly but with enough sultriness to drive me mad. And then when I finally get her to be mine, I’ll make her say my name like that over and over. Only that then, she’ll be screaming it.
Amber’s taking her time in the bathroom, the water still running which is good because I need to search her room. I tried doing it yesterday but she was in there almost the whole day, playing on her cello.
I frown when I remember that she didn’t technically play. More like played around and then it was silent in there for hours. My brilliant, little cellist is blocked. But I’ll make sure she loosens up within time. With her music and with me.
Walking into her bedroom, I inhale the smell of her that seems to be sticking to the walls. Leaning my head back I pull in as much as I can down my lungs. Her room reminds me of her, clean and polished with a queen sized bed and linen curtains in the window.
She left a pile of her clothes on the floor before walking into the shower and I pick up her skirt, smelling it, breathing the area that crinkled up in between her legs. Smells like concentrated ecstasy and I grind my teeth when my mouth waters with need.
Walking over to one of her drawers, I open it, finding neat rows of lingerie and picking up one of her thongs, I imagine it decorating her spiffy ass. The colors remind me of jewels, emerald green, ruby red...
They’d look like pieces of art on her feathery skin. Skin that I can’t wait to brand with little love bites.
Skin that will only ever feel my teeth and my claws and nobody else’s, I’ll familiarize her with my touch, make her used to it, make her addicted. I want her undone, so greedy for me that every day that I come home from work I want to find her naked in my bed, baring the most intimate part of her to me.
Her body needs to be exposed. Her heart exposed. No walls between us. Not like there are now.