Her fingers got tangled in my brown hair and tugged roughly, holding me as close to her as possible. I made an inhuman noise at the sensation, half-way between a snarl and a growl.
I wouldn’t be this desperate had I ever felt like this with anyone.
Even… MIRANDA!
Miranda, my soulmate.
Miranda, my fiancée.
Miranda, the woman I owe everything to.
Miranda, my fiancée!
I pulled away from her. Giving her an apologetic and weak smile, I looked at the ground. I had told her I had a fiancée before this. And I am a better woman than … than that! I would never cheat.
Of course, I actually did such a thing. So, was I really as good as I like to believe I am?
“I… I told you about Miranda. I couldn’t… it would be wrong but…I still want to…” I was stuttering, just trying to piece the words together.
She shushed me and assured me everything was fine. Just a momentary lapse in judgment on both of our parts.
It was just the alcohol. We both had a few too many drinks.
A few days later and we were hanging out again. Her very presence was addictive. I could practically taste her aura in the air. She was cool and excitable and beautiful.
She even haunted my very dreams with her beauty and kindness and her… beautiful body?
I looked around, and could see only fine silk sheets and rose petals. I looked up and my breath caught in my throat.
Zoey was there, smirking at me as she walked towards me. She was completely nude, whilst I was clothed. And yet it felt like she was the predator, and I, the timid prey.
My eyes couldn’t help but stare over at every inch of her body. My mind was wonderful at recreating her – or I paid much too much attention – as every freckle, stretch mark, and other imperfection was in their exact right place.
I was struck with a sudden need to taste every sensitive inch of her perfect body.
Stepping forward, I was frozen in my tracks by her growl. “Lay back. Be a good girl.” The tone of her voice made my body shiver. Never have I been so turned on as I was right now.
I whined at the way she stalked over to me. “Oh, Rachel.” Her seductive voice purred in my ear. “Don’t be afraid, My love.” She cooed. “I’ll make you feel so good. I promise.”
Shivering at the goosebumps that erupted on my body as I felt the sensation of her hot breath on my ear, I nodded tentatively.
Her eyes explored my body as if I were naked and she smirked at me. “I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I ever laid my eyes on you.”
She pressed her lips to my neck and immediately began sucking and nipping at the tender flesh. When she got to a certain spot where my neck met my shoulder, I let out a high pitched whine.
I felt her smirk against my neck, beginning to focus her attention on that particular patch of skin. She could play me as if my body were a sheet of music, and she a composer.
She slowly began to peel my layers of clothing off. I felt so self-conscious. What if she looked at me, and realized I wasn’t what she really wanted? What if she wanted someone like her, with a perfect body as well as a fun personality?
What if I’m not good? I mean, Miranda says I’m good. But I was her first, so that’s not really a good example. Zoey probably had hundreds of beautiful people.
I would never judge her for such a thing. What she does with her body is no one’s business except her own. (And mine one day in the future, hopefully.) I just, feel so inadequate.
Probably residuals from when I thought I was straight. The words “chubby chaser” were thrown around a lot, which made me feel even worse.
My possessiveness really needs some work. I can’t help myself. And she probably isn’t super happy that my lips, teeth, and tongue began exploring her body and leaving marks in every spot they could possibly reach.
Well, she doesn’t seem to have any problem with it, as she merely moans. She finishes removing my shirt and kisses all around my chest. She plays with the edge of my lace bra as she teases the skin right around where I want her to touch.
“May I take this off, Mi Amore?” She purrs. I thought I couldn’t be any more attracted to her than I am? Ha! I was sorely mistaken in that context. The way her lips curled around the pet name, made my toes curl.
“Yes,” I whimpered. “Oh yes.”
I thought that would be the end of it. But she insisted on continuing to tease me. Even she removed the bra from me, she refused to touch my nipples, which were pebbled and just whining for her attention.
Her lips and tongue explored my tender breasts and just ghosted over my nipples.
"Stop teasing me! I'm serious, Zoey! If you don't I will-OH!" I moaned as she immediately gave me what I wanted, her mouth wrapping around my nipple. She suckled on it like a baby and I threw my head back.
She ran her hands over my sides. She reached under my skirt and abruptly began rubbing my soaking core over my panties.
I gasped, my hips jolting. It was too much. Too much stimulation and too fast.
That's just how Zoey operates, though. Always intensity wrapped in a chill demeanor that spun the heads of anyone she came into contact with.
I could say I hated it and it made me so angry that I wanted to destroy things, but anyone could tell that. The problem was that, whenever she did it, I was too happy to actually care about how smug she was being.
“You’re so wet.” She purred, smirking at me. “I knew you were into me!”
I scowled at her and tugged on her hair. She moaned loudly at the action. Oooh. So she is into a little bit of masochism. I have to put that juicy little tidbit away and save it for later.
I reached to touch her and she gently pulled my hand away for herself with a soft coo. “As much as I would love to feel your hands on me, Love, it isn’t yet the time. You don’t have to do that. Today is all about you.”
I blushed. I've never had sex that was all about me before. Usually, Miranda was a selfish lover, and I usually just ended up using a vibrator.
She ran her hands over me. I was mewling and shuddering as I ground against her hand. She was so sexy, I almost couldn’t bare it.
She pulled her hand away to remove my skirt and underwear. I whined at the lack of friction, one of my hands reaching down to touch myself for some desperately needed friction.
I was never this desperate, usually easily able to wait my turn. But the scent of Zoey goes to my head and makes every thought I have to die on my tongue. The feel of her skin on mine causes me to shudder and shake as her touch leaves a trail of fire in its wake.
My hand is swatted away as she kneeled off the bed so her face was parallel with my pussy. I wanted to push her away and tell her not to look. That It’s embarrassing.
I almost covered my face in mortification before seeing her reaction. She slowly let her pink tongue dart out of her mouth, and run over her soft lips.
My breath caught in my throat. She can’t be serious? I’ve never met anyone who volunteered to do such a thing. Or looks so sinfully delicious and in control while on their knees.
Is she really going to- “Oooooh!” I moaned loudly as she seemed to get enough of teasing me. Her tongue licked a long stripe up my pussy, my juices pouring onto her tongue.
She made a noise as she swallowed them, slurping them up like broth for chicken soup. “Delicious.” She purred, before continuing.
Oh god.
If I thought it was too much too soon before, I couldn’t even describe what this is. She was relentless, eating me as if she was a starving woman.
I mewled, clawing at the bed sheets as my legs shook. I couldn't even breathe. How could she do such a thing to me? Reduce me to a sniveling pile of whimpers and cries as I tried with all my effort just to breathe.
“Z-Zoey!” I called out, trying to warn her that I’m gonna come.
“Shh.” She purred. “Just enjoy it…”
I did come. When I awoke, I groaned. My pa
nties were ruined, and my bedsheets were as well. I noticed my hand was covered in my own juices.
Gross.
The dreams didn’t help anything. If anything, it made me freak out more around her. I even had to take several showers, and I couldn’t look Zoey in the eye for the whole next day. I was under the impression that it could be forever, but I was proven wrong.
It didn’t help that I can’t even think straight around her, but I know that that’s exactly where I want to be. Why do I want to be where my greatest asset – my mind – is the worst it has ever been?
Is this what love does? Makes you stupid, yet smarter than ever?
“Australia.” Her melodic voice crooned, jolting me out of my reverie. She was looking out at the sea with that dreamy look, the one that fueled my most embarrassing fantasies. Instead of sex, in those dreams, she looked at me the way she looks at the ocean and imagines endless possibilities. “That’s where I’d go on vacation. See the Great Barrier reef.”
I wrote it down in my notebook that evening. Travel to the Great Barrier Reef. Scuba dive and see the beautiful fish and scenery.
I was just a touch too slow to see how big it was that I was willing to compromise my own core beliefs like that.
I smiled at her. There was a childlike excitement on her face. A flame in her eyes that I somehow thought – even in my mid-twenties – had already died out. Oh, how I wish it wasn't so. But… maybe around her, I could rekindle it. Be what I've always wanted to be that nobody expected me to be?
Whenever I was with her, my gut would twist in the most delightful of ways. My heart will speed up and I’d forget how to breathe. Sometimes, her beauty made me want to recite poetry, other times her beauty made me want to destroy something.
According to Sarah, it’s because I am unsure if I want to ‘be her’ or to ‘be on her’. She is half-crazy, though. One can’t take the things she says seriously.
Besides, I am quite sure I want to be on her.
Disregard that last sentence. It is unimportant.
“Your eyes,” I told her once, “Glitter like rare gemstones that grow off the tallest peaks of Mount Olympus. Only the gods themselves are worthy of staring at them. Aphrodite created you as a gift to some dumb king who didn’t think you were good enough. Your hair is like spun gold, and your lips are the deepest blood red.”
Poetry can roll off the tongue when you are enamored with somebody. That was the first time I ever learned that lesson.
I don’t know what possessed me to say such a thing out loud. That was the type of thing a girl should keep to herself.
“Oh, You’re makin’ me blush!” She declared, a charming grin in place. “I gotta tell ya, the things that I think when I look at you, ain’t exactly poetry.”
I felt my heart jump into my throat at her words. I didn’t want to think about why it affected me so much to hear her sugary sweet words. Or the way I couldn’t look at the suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows for more than a second while still thinking… at all.
Chapter 4
She was a gift from god. That’s what I have realized. Or a punishment. She could be the holder of Pandora’s box, or that dreaded Apple of Eve’s. Temptation personified. But, so much more than that as well.
I was already tipsy while spending time with Sarah and Joanne. Sarah wanted us all to have a party night with just us girls.
"Don't you think it's rude." God damned Joanne has to ruin everything. "To tease her like this, to tell her she maybe has a chance and strings her along? I mean, it looks like she's really, like, genuinely into you.”
I gave her a dirty look and replied, “Of course, not. It’s not like she’s even really into me anyway.” I snapped immediately.
Either way, she was not for me. Some other girl would come along. A girl who was more her speed. A surfer girl with soft blonde locks to match hers, a lilting voice as well. She would have the same toned body, but she would have chestnut brown eyes. The kind that Zoey told me she had a thing for.
I didn’t care that the very notion of it actually hurt.
It didn’t hurt.
That is fine.
It didn’t claw at my chest more than when I first met Miranda, and she was with some other woman. It didn’t tear me inside and out.
It certainly didn’t make me crazy. The thought of her with another woman.
Oh, who am I kidding?
It made my blood boil and my skin itch. My teeth gnashed as I stalked out of our beach house, looking for her.
Of Course. She was flirting with some other bleach blonde beach babe. Well, that girl couldn't have Zoey! She was MINE.
I. Saw. Her. First!
That was my exact thought process as I strode up to her, only caring about making sure she saw me and only me. I pulled on the shark tooth necklace she was wearing to tug her down to me.
I forced my lips onto hers in an overly possessive and passionate manner. The fireworks had transformed into wild flames. They licked up the skin of my arm as I shivered. In a way, I would never have acted if I was thinking with my actual brain. Only one thought was running through my mind.
I couldn’t let her just get over me!
When I say kissed…Kissed may be the wrong word. I slammed our mouths together so hard that – had our noses bumped – we would have both had bloody noses.
I pulled her closer to me and felt a smug sense of satisfaction as she relented, kissing me back immediately.
Take that nameless woman who has yet to make her move! Zoey was all mine.
My hands touched around the fabric of her shirt. I wanted to feel those supple breasts of hers in my hand. I wanted to utterly ruin her for anyone else. So she would never think twice about me.
“Not out in the open,” She mumbled against my lips, leading me to her cabin. Leading isn’t the right word. Like some kind of Amazonian goddess, she picked me up as if I weighed nothing and carried me into her home. “Here, now we have some privacy.”
This was the first time I had been in her home. I wasn’t paying any attention to the décor though. She’d distracted me too well.
She plopped me unceremoniously onto the bed and then began kissing me again. Of course, I couldn’t allow her to continue with the belief that she was the one in control.
I had to be in control. I had to make her feel so good that she never thought twice about her wish to be with me.
Lips, teeth, and tongues clashing as my hands explored her body.
She was just as bad as I am. Worse even. Her touches were more experienced and better in every conceivable way.
When her hands finally reached exactly where I wanted them to go, her touch ghosting over my sensitive breasts, I had an epiphany. I couldn’t do this.
It would hurt everyone in the process. Myself, Miranda, and yes, Zoey as well.
It was better to just simply end it now.
At least, that’s what I told myself as my lips formed a word that I really did not want to say to her. "No," I commanded, pushing her away from me.
Her eyes were glazed over by hurt. I wanted to say something to make it all better. Comfort her and take away all the pain I laid upon her. But I could not.
I couldn’t think of anything, so I ran. It wasn’t my proudest moment. I had just become what I hate most – a cheater – and I hurt somebody I care deeply about.
And no matter what anyone says, it is entirely my fault.
I almost did what is unforgivable.
What kind of person am I?
Chapter 5
It’s been two weeks. I haven’t seen her since.
Well, I’ve seen her multiple times. Honestly, It took me 5 days for me to build up my emotions enough to actually talk to her. It was so hard to actually say anything to her. I just blew up and ran from her.
“Zoey,” I remember saying to her the next time I saw her. I almost gasped at the way her eyes hardened and she turned away.
She didn’t even want to talk to me.
I me
an, I guess I deserved it.
Joanne was right. I tugged her around.
It’s not like she couldn’t do better than me.
I just…
It sucked. What could I even do to make everything better? Honestly, there is nothing I could do.
I wanted to blame her.
Zoey is unreasonable. Zoey doesn’t understand me. Zoey expects things from me when she was promised nothing. Why can’t Zoey just accept me for who I am?
Okay, fine. I will admit it. This was completely my fault and nobody else’s.
It definitely hurt that she didn’t even care to try and think about what I said. To hear me out at all.
Chapter 6
I never got to tell her the truth. Zoey even ignored my very existence when I was trying to tell her goodbye.
I’m not even going to ever see her again.
Leaving to go back home, my mind was in a daze. Home, such a stiff, difficult environment. Home. Where it’s me and Miranda… me and Miranda forever…No more chances to change my mind or think twice.
Home.
Without Zoey’s warm smile or laughing eyes. Without her crocodile tears played off for laughs. Without surfing practice or stupid puns or-
NO!
I don't care! Miranda and I are soulmates! That goes beyond passion.
I’m noticing something troubling. That phrase feels less and less true every time I let it pass through my mind.
No!
Miranda and I will go the distance. We trust each other explicitly and would never do anything that could hurt either one of us.
Miranda is an angel and loves me.
Miranda… is waiting at the airport. Awww. And she’s holding a sign, labeled “The Best Dork”. That is Miranda’s personal brand of affection. Being rude in a way that no one could be genuinely upset about it.
When I got to her, she was talking my ear off. It’s strange. Like she’s a totally different person.
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