|You Are Not Alone
Author: You're Still in Poems PM
Life shifts and changes, throwing you down a new path and a new adventure. Starts at the end of the new series, centering around Blanche Mottershead.Rated: Fiction T - English - Chapters: 5 - Words: 10,814 - Reviews: 3 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 11-22-12 - Published: 11-20-12 - id: 8721473
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: A plot idea that came to me at work and became its own thing. Thanks for reading!
The body pressed against hers felt foreign -too big and too strong. It smelled differently; of aftershave and cologne, rather than soap and perfume. It made her feel small, delicate, and unsure in her own skin.
She'd had too much to drink, desperate to numb the constant ache in her heart. The events leading up to her tumbling into bed with a complete stranger were as hazy as why she was still allowing it to happen.
Hot open mouthed kisses rained down from ear to clavicle, and she squirmed at the feel of stubble scraping the delicate skin. Large hands caressed her curves and snaked down to pull up her skirt in fistfuls.
She closed her eyes and tried to let her mind drift to a more appealing partner. Perhaps that was a bit rude -he was attractive enough -certainly capable of finding a very lovely woman to take home. She wondered why he had chosen her. A challenge probably. A manly challenge that would give him a sense of pride in being to one to turn her interests.
Eventually she relaxed and started to find a rhythm. Her traitorous and intoxicated body seemed not to care at the present who was touching her, rather that they had found the spot that was making her writhe and pulled a long sigh from her throat.
"You like that?" His voice startled her.
"Don't talk. Please." She couldn't concentrate on an imaginary lover if he was talking.
Seeming not to care whether they spoke or not, he continued his ministrations until she was gasping for air. Quickly -so quickly- he slid inside and she squeezed her eyes more tightly shut.
It was strange and slightly uncomfortable as she stretched around him. Se let out a short breath as he started to move.
She didn't want to touch him, so she brought her hands up by her head. The alcohol was making her extremities feel as fuzzy as her head, and she wondered if she'd wake up with a hangover.
She began to adjust to the feel of him as she let her mind wander back to the imaginary lover she'd created. After what felt like an eternity, he cried out and collapsed on top of her, taking the wind out of her lungs. Slowly, he rolled off her, and she was grateful his sweaty body was no longer attached to hers.
By the time she had washed the feel of him off her skin, he had gone. She fell into bed and succumbed to a deep sleep, wondering what on Earth she had just done.