Love Burns

by Adrian J. Smith

  Her hands went to the top of her dress. She undid each button slowly, revealing a stunning black lace bra which pushed her ample breasts together to make a wonderful cleavage I longed to get lost in. Goosepimples popped up on my arms. I should tell her to stop. I should tell her to leave. I didn’t. Who am I trying to fool? She stopped at the waist and, without warning, uncrossed her legs and pulled the arms of my chair forward until my face was level with the small pink bow in the center of the lace. My pulse quickened. She knew me too well. Her fingers, with their immaculately painted nails, undid a hidden hook, letting her breasts spring free.

  She licked her finger and used it to lazily circle one nipple. Oh God. “You always had a thing about my boobs, didn’t you, and I had a thing about you liking them.” She lifted one breast until the dark pink nipple rubbed my lips.

  “Lick it,” she said.

  I shook my head. The rest of me shook with desire. We’d played this game so many times before and both knew how it always ended.

  “Lick it. You know you want to. I can see it in your eyes. You want to lick and suck like you always did.”

  It was true. Losing myself in her made the world go away better than any drug. I let my tongue slip between my lips and touched, ever so slightly. The nub and areole hardened, and I was back on the hook, being pulled in.

  “Go on, you know that’s not enough. Lose yourself. Do what you’re told.”

  I did. I couldn’t help myself. Leaving her had killed me. What must she have thought? How mad she must be. How would she punish me? It had been two years, and there had been no one since. When you’ve tasted perfection… I wrapped my lips around the glorious nub. She curved her hand around the back of my head and held me there. It was like coming home. I wouldn’t have cared about anyone else entering the room. The sky could have fallen, or the world ended. My mouth was made for this.

  “Enough.” Her usual command. She placed her hands either side of my head, tilting it upward. “Now the other one.” I moved sideways.

  “Oh yes. You haven’t lost any of your skill, have you, Ronnie? Such a gorgeous mouth and talented tongue.” She kept me there for minutes, alternating between each nipple while I licked and whimpered into the wetness I’d created so greedily. It had been too long.

  “Enough.” Immediately, I stopped. The dance moved on, as carefully choreographed as ever.

  “Undo the rest of the buttons.”

  I did as I was told, one by one, until I reached the last. She wore matching black lace panties and, as I’d suspected, hold-ups, the kind with the lacy tops rather than the purely functional. I desperately wanted to kiss the pale flesh above the elastic lace. She stood and shimmied out of her briefs. She never fully shaved like many others, but chose to trim. She loathed wax. I wanted nothing more than to sink my face between those white thighs and she knew it. I could practically taste her on my tongue. My pussy ached and I was so wet my knickers would be damp all day.

  She reached between her legs with one finger, rubbed herself then held her hand up to my mouth. I could smell her. I needed to taste her so badly. She slipped the finger into my mouth and I devoured the salty flavor with its subtle hint of mango from the shower gel she always used.

  “You want more, don’t you?” she said. I couldn’t speak. I nodded. “Then you shall have more.”

  She edged back farther on the desk and opened her legs. Her body glistened. “Move closer,” she said. She pulled open her lips to reveal her clit.

  “Oh God,” I whispered, staring up into those dark eyes. “Can I?” Would she refuse? Would that be my punishment for leaving her? I couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing her again. Please don’t say no.

  She stroked my hair. “Oh yes, my pet. Make me come like only you can.”

  Tension leached out of me. I wheeled closer. Sitting like this, I could concentrate. I glided my tongue over her clit.

  “That’s it, my pet. Take it. Take me.”

  I buried my face in wetness. I loved the feel of it on my skin, the taste and smell. I took her clit between my lips and sucked hard. Now, the tables were turned a little. I had the power. This was how it worked between us. I did what she told me. Anything she told me. She liked the power and I liked the danger. Did we have a chance for more?

  The door wasn’t locked. Anyone could come in, but I didn’t care. Every memory of every time came flooding back along with the need—the need to lose myself. I slipped one finger inside her. I loved to feel her contractions as she came.

  “Oh yes. No one has ever done this as well as you.” She wrapped her legs around me. I could hardly breathe. I pushed harder, licked harder, moaned into her flesh, waiting for the moment when she pulled away before she came. I knew how she moved. When she did, I followed her, not letting up my attention to her body through the convulsions as she came with more wetness covering my face. I loved the feeling of being surrounded by her. I kept going until she put a hand on my hair then raised my head to meet her gaze. She lifted my chin and leaned down to kiss me, tasting herself on my lips.

  “Thank you.” Those simple words made all the difference. She always thanked me. Those words gave me hope. Had she forgiven me?

  I said nothing, letting my breathing return to normal while I licked my lips.

  She stood, fastened her bra, put on her briefs, then buttoned her dress and brushed herself down. She checked and reapplied her lipstick and ran her fingers through her hair. I sat in silence, knowing there wouldn’t be anything for me to relieve the ache between my legs. At least not from her, not now, not here. Not in this dance.

  “It’s been good to meet again,” she said as if we’d merely had a coffee together. “I missed you, my pet.” She dug into her bag and pulled out a card. “Call me.” It wasn’t a suggestion. Could we be more than this?

  “I don’t know,” I whispered. But I did. I’d call. Probably.

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  About the Author

  Adrian J. Smith has been publishing since 2013 but has been writing nearly her entire life. With a focus on women loving women fiction, AJ jumps genres from action-packed police procedurals to the seedier life of vampires and witches to sweet romances with a May-December twist. She loves writing and reading about women in the midst of the ordinariness of life. Two of her novels received honorable mentions with the Rainbow Awards.

  AJ currently lives in Cheyenne, WY, although she moves often and has lived all over the United States. She loves to travel to different countries and places. She currently plays the roles of author, wife, mother to two rambunctious toddlers, and occasional handy-woman.

  AJ loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website details and author profile page at https://www.pride-publishing.com