The O in Complement
Erotic Fiction
I want to melt into the space between his teeth and tongue. I settle for sucking his bottom lip instead. Let him be fruit and me be Crème fraîche. We are complements. I imagine he is grilled peaches at the height of peach season. I bite into his shoulder, pretending he is, and let his moans dance around the room. Did you know that your lover tastes better in the sunlight than in the darkness of night?
Lorn has a quiet demeanor about him. It is one of my favorite parts. I don’t need hands to count how many times he’s raised his voice at me because he has not. He reserves his deep baritone for whispering sweet nothings or many nasty somethings in the throes of passion. He reserves it for rude contractors and sometimes even clients who try to micromanage him.
“Did you know your great-grandmother?” I ask him as we wait for the ads to finish playing. “Also, why are you being cheap?! Pay for the top-tier subscription, sheesh.”
“First off, don’t tell me how to spend my money,” he jokes. “Second off, I probably got my frugal ways from my great-grandmother! She was notoriously tight with the purse. She was also known to have many a lover funding her and her 6 children.” He raises his brows and smirks.
“Bad bitch. Icon!” I yelp as he squeezes the flesh of my stomach gently.
“How you gon call my grandma a bad bitch?” he asks.
“But she was, wasn’t she? If any fool-ass man left me with 6 kids I’d get a couple lovers to pay the bills! You feel me?”
“Could I watch?” he smirks again.
I punch him in the leg. “Shut up.”
“That wasn’t a no though…” he replies.
“I wouldn’t be having 6 kids for your big ass head anyway.”
“I’d never leave you with 6 kids anyway,” he states. A fact.
“Do you want them… kids I mean?”
“Maybe. Maybe with you. Do you want them?”
“I’m still on the fence, to be honest,” I mutter.
He grabs my hand and kisses the back of it, a wicked gleam growing in his eyes.
“Lorn,” I whisper, heavy with anticipation. “Aren’t you tired?”
“Mm-mmm,” he responds before sliding my finger into his mouth and rolling his tongue around it. If I was not a shade of deep amber you would see the heat in my cheeks.
I take great pleasure in watching his wicked work. He enjoys me watching as much as he enjoys making me feel. The two of us continue our tango. He blazes a trail of tender kisses up my arm slowing as he reaches my collarbone… slows even more as he approaches the valley between my breasts. You would think it would be enough, his mouth between my breasts, on my breast, but he’s a greedy man. It’s part of why I love him. I give and he takes and he gives and I moan. Lips below collar bones and fingers between my thighs. I am a bundle of fireworks about to explode and so he crashes his lips into mine eager to swallow my cries of pleasure.
“I’d give them to you.”
“I know,” I reply through gritted teeth holding myself together through sheer stubbornness.
“I would.”
He rests back and pulls me onto his lap. I straddle him. He pushes himself up and grips my waist. I kiss his jaw. He kisses my ear and whispers, “I would.”
I shudder. Rock against him. He rocks into me. It is delicious how two complements become rhythm. It is more delicious having his lips on my neck, him inside me, the rich feel of his hands greedy across my body. We are building, building, building tension two carpenters of pleasure, two stonemasons of love shudder, approaching a frenzy of feeling. We crash down, breathing heavily, and I wonder if two complements should become three or if we have the brick and stone to build space for a third.
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Oooooh la la.. I have my hand over my mouth blushing.
“he approaches the valley between my breasts.”
the visual is crazyyyy!
cut cut cut!!!