AllFreeNovel
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Like oral. Lu likes oral. A lot of oral. Yup.
I usually read her stuff alone, because my dick really likes it too and gets too excited. One day, I might need this. Hopefully, for Lu. And not just in my dreams.
I open SD and see a notification.
Two new chapters from the author you follow are live!
I click on the link, and in a minute, I’m lost in Em and John’s story.
It started with his eyes.
You don’t always realize what turns simple attraction into more. What starts keeping you up at night. What unravels and torments you with want.
The first time, I painted only his eyes.
Then his face, the dark loose strands of his hair falling over his forehead.
Then his silhouette against the city skyline.
Now, I paint John obsessively, every day, carefully bringing his intense gaze out on the canvas.
During the day, I spend a lot of time on details.
At night, I paint him in large careless strokes, adding darker overtones, brighter red for his lips.
I paint his tattoos, though I didn’t get a chance to study them yet, except the shark one.
When I miss him, I pull the covers off his portraits and set them around the room, almost a dozen of them by now. And I sit in his presence, wanting to talk to his portraits, imagining it’s him, but knowing it’s too crazy even for a creative person like me.
I hold my breath. I think my heart stopped beating at the words, but then it resumes, wildly and loudly like it just got more oxygen to pump.
She doeswhat?
His eyes are everywhere.Heis everywhere. His voice is in my head.
“Miss Aberdeen.”
“Call me Em.”
“Em it is.”
The tiny smile that curves his full lips—I want it on mine. His eyes—closer. His scent—on me.
He’s gone for the day, and I’m in his room. I walk into his bathroom and inhale the scent of his body wash, close my eyes, and imagine him taking a shower.
I know every part of his daily routine, the small details, the food he likes, the toothpaste he uses, the dark aggressive music he listens to, and how meticulously he folds his shirts in the drawer.
There’s a cigarette pack on his nightstand. He hasn’t touched it since he moved in.
His room is spotless. His laundry basket is almost empty. He takes care of his things. Unlike me. I know a lot about John on the surface, just not his mind.
Did Lu go into my room?
I lie on his bed and imagine what it’d be like to be in it with him, naked. Closing my eyes, I inhale his familiar scent. The scent is so very real. I wish I could paint it, dark, maybe blueish-gray, with warm streaks and specks of amber.
I glide my hand along my torso, wishing it were his.
Smiling, I breathe him in.
