Aches and Memories

by Sharlene Alba 10 months ago in relationships

Erotic Prompts Series

Aches and Memories
Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy on Unsplash

The sound of your name used to send shock waves throughout my body, informing me of your invading presence and the paradise that followed. Which was why I wasn't surprised at the inner turmoil coiling about inside me as I turned to catch your gaze from across the room. The gallery was crowded tonight, full of potential clients and investors, friends and family as well. And yet all that seemed to capture my attention was the wildfire in your chestnut eyes, tempting me to get lost in them once again.

You didn't make any attempt to cross the room to get to me. You knew you'd done just that with just a look, followed by a wolfish smile. I wouldn't dare let you win just yet, so I cleared my throat, ignored my throbbing clit and poured myself another drink.

It'd been too long since I trusted anyone enough to let them explore my body as well as you did. Intimacy was on my top shelf of things I didn't excel at, and when you managed to break through my boundaries and the emptiness I'd held onto for so long, I had no choice but to hate you for it. You didn't let it stop you from loving me. And it somehow made it even worse.

I needed another drink. Another vice to help me forget you were in the room with me after all these years. A smile formed against my neck as my latest mistake wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against him. I didn't have to look up to know you were glancing in my direction. My body was on fire, and the memories and alcohol weren't helping much.

I was intent on taking my conquest into the storage room for a quick relief before I started the auction and I managed to gain access to his hand before bumping straight into you, sprouting some of my drink against your shirt. Irritation was nowhere in sight on your face. Your eyes held mischief and hunger instead. Once I realized you'd bumped into me on purpose, I opened my mouth to say something, but you excused yourself and smiled, heading in the same direction I'd been thinking of taking earlier.

It was an open invitation to relive old memories, to tame a fire that had been lit the moment we locked eyes years ago. Tonight was the biggest night of my career, and all I could think about was fucking you until I couldn't walk. Logic seemed to disappear whenever our paths cross. It was as if there wasn't enough room for both to exist at the same time and we always took the bait.

I decided tonight I would break that pattern. And as much I wanted to follow you into that storage room, I wanted to at least try to make it through the evening without the emotional tidal waves you seem to stir in me. I reigned in my libido and downed another drink before I took the stage and started the auction.

I'd sold at least five of my paintings before I managed to curse out loud when I realized what painting was next. Once I pulled off the cloth and swallowed hard, I did my best not to look into the audience for your puzzled gaze. The portrait was that of a man laying in a bed and on his side, bare from the waist up, a sheet barely covering all the good parts, while the smile in his eyes stared straight into your soul. The acrylic paint and the dotted format I'd used made it pop out and it made it all the more interesting to look at. It was honestly one of my favorites.

No one knew I'd painted this from memory, a painful one at that. I'd painted this before I knew what kind of man you really were, before the nights full of pleasure in between lonely sheets had ended abruptly by your secrets. I had no intention of selling this particular painting until I realized it was time to let you go. The man I knew, the man in this painting was long gone and enough time had passed in between your goodbye and now for me to release this cloud of misery I'd held onto for dear life.

But you're still here. In the room and in the orbit surrounding my heart. I'd always been a masochist when it came to loving you and maybe I had asked for it. Maybe the universe wanted my heart to shatter into pieces in order for me to breathe and pick up a paint brush again.

"One million dollars." The offer came after fifteen other art collectors had placed theirs and my heart managed to leap out of my chest when I saw it had been you. You stood proudly from your chair, holding up a sign that held no number in sight. But merely the words "I'm sorry" printed out in bold letters. The entire room turned to face you and then me and that was when I lost it. I handed the microphone to my assistant and ran off the stage, heading straight to my office upstairs. My hands were shaking with fury, my eyes betraying the renewed hatred of you by stinging with tears, causing them to fall as I furiously tried to wipe them all away.

I didn't need to question who was knocking at my door before I opened it. I already knew it was you and rested my forehead against the door, contemplating on whether to let you in or not, or if my feelings for you would let either one be an option.

"You couldn't just send one of your trashy secretaries to come and bid for you?" I asked, infuriated by his presence and the can of worms it seemed to open every time we ran into each other.

"I thought you were a feminist," you countered, testing my patience with a joke in the hopes of lightening the mood. I glared at you, hoping you'd get the hint as you closed the door behind you and locked it.

"You said you hated me," you continued, stepping closer and closer to me as I backed up against my desk.

"Your point?" I questioned as I put my big girl panties on and looked him in the eye.

"That painting shows otherwise," you claimed, while I cocked my head to the side as you wiped away at my tear stained cheeks. Your forehead rested against mine and you breathed me in, leaving me dry of all my reservations and common sense.

"I started that painting before I knew you were married. Took me a year to finish it," I corrected you, and my statement made you pull away quickly, as if the subject was as sore as my heart had been all this time without you.

"Things were complicated then," was all you managed to say and it ticked me off even more. The nonchalance in your voice was always a trigger for me. But it always kept me coming back for more.

"Are they still complicated?" I dared to ask. Not that it made a difference. Not that seeing his wedding ring finger bare made the slightest bit of a dent in my hesitation of staying away from him.

"She passed away a week after she found out about us," you confess and that definitely hit me right where it hurt. It wasn't until weeks after your wife had caught us at that motel that I had found out she had ovarian cancer and your marriage had gone to shit by the time you and I met. She'd been the one who insisted you find someone to keep you company in ways she could no longer provide for you. You weren't supposed to fall for that trick, but in the end you did; and the snowball effect from that decision left everyone close to—if not actually—dead in the end. I only knew all this from the letters you sent to me every day for a year, the same ones I burned after reading them. If I hadn't, I would've read them over and over again, just to keep the memory of us alive and breathing.

"Jesus... you're an idiot." I declared as I shook my head and you rolled your eyes.

"Yeah well, what else is new?" you answered as you leaned even closer to me and lifted my chin up to meet your eyes. A smile formed on your lips as your thumb caressed my bottom lip and I hated that my body always betrayed me when you were around. My nipples were aching for your mouth and so was my pulsating clit. They were both desperate for your attention and my body language showed as much. My tongue darted out to meet your finger and it made you groan softly before you picked me up and hoisted me on top of my desk, knocking down half of my stuff to the floor.

Your hand made its way up my dress, while the hunger in your eyes deepened when you realized I wasn't wearing underwear. Your fingers slipped so easily inside me, I thought I might cum just from the stroking.

"Please forgive me..." you begged against my ear while your thumb circled my clit and your fingers dipped deep inside me. I gasped from the pleasure and realized you still enjoyed playing dirty. I couldn't help but smile as I shook my head and pulled your wet fingers out of me.

"It won't be that easy this time around," I stated breathlessly as I fumbled to get your belt off to spring your cock out for me to taste.

"I hate easy. Complicated turns me on," you respond with a smile before you kiss me, your tongue colliding with mine as my hands begin to stroke you. You're harder than the concrete floor beneath us and I'm careful not to make you cum too early.

"Well then, looks like you came to the right person tonight," I mentioned as I pulled away from your lips, tugging at your hair as I began to stroke you faster. You cursed my name before you kissed my proud grin away and slipped your fingers back into me. I'd grown even more wet and the sound alone made me want to fall apart for you sooner.

You left my lips to kiss down my neck and down to my chest, where it was left bare and exposed after you pulled down the straps of my dress. I bit my lower lip from the painful pleasure of you biting at my nipples, sucking on them to soothe the pain. God, I missed this. I missed how my body sprung into action and lost itself in ecstasy, lost itself within your familiar touch.

Your mouth continued its journey down my body and it wasn't long until I had you on your knees in front of me, spreading my legs as you marveled at how soaked I was for you. You began your torture with the tip of your tongue, using it to slowly open my slick folds, causing my thighs to tremble for more. I held your gaze as your mouth disappeared into me, your tongue sliding up and down my wet mound, decreasing its pace, adding to my desperation. I pulled at your hair again, forcing you to lick faster. Your laughter vibrated against my aching clit and I swallowed a loud moan in the hopes of not screaming at you for being so skilled with your tongue.

You suckled at me as if you were eating the most delectable fruit, savoring my taste, allowing it to coat your lips before you licked it off and went back in for more. The second your mouth and tongue decided to work its magic on my clit, I came hard, bursts of desire spilling into your mouth as you drank it all in.

I watched your tongue lap at my clit as my body convulsed with pleasure, your lips nestling against my mound before you stood up and kissed me. As I tasted myself on your lips, I moaned deeply and pulled you in closer. But you had other plans, and that involved you pulling far enough away from me to help me fix my dress.

"You forgot something," I stated as I glanced down at your potent erection while you placed it back inside your pants and zipped it up.

"You're not ready to forgive me," you began, placing a soft kiss on my temple. I started to protest, but you placed a finger on my lips before I could get any words out. You weren't wrong. I wasn't ready to forgive you even after the amazing orgasm you'd just gifted me with. Years of heartache couldn't be erased by just one moment of passion. It required life-changing behavior and long days and nights of grovelling.

Were you worth risking a love-filled infection of this magnitude? The answer to my question wasn't complicated. It was quite the opposite. Your knowing gaze held onto mine long enough for me to know exactly what my heart wanted. And unfortunately that was you.

"Did you ever feel them while I was gone?" I asked, hoping your answer would influence mine in every way. You took my hands then, and lifted them up to your lips to caress them with your lips.

"The aches?" you asked and I nodded in response.

"And the memories." I continued, and your gaze turned tender as I recalled all of our moments together in my mind, wondering if I was crazy enough to create even more.

"Both in waves and stillness. Even now, I can't seem to want it to stop," you admit and it brings tears to my eyes. Vulnerability didn't come easy to you. Just like intimacy didn't come easy to me. As long as we could both stare at each other through the ugliest of flaws and personal wars, I was sure we could get through just about anything.

"I'm not ready to forgive you," I begin again and you nod in response as I walk towards my door and hold it open it for you, "But I love you enough to try," I finish right before you walk out my door. Your body freezes briefly before looking back towards me, and I respond with a hopeful gaze.

"You've never said those words to me before," you mention, relief in your demeanor and I nod realizing it as well. You had a habit of bringing out the worst in me. It was about time you brought out the best too.

"As if you didn't already know," I say biting my lower lip.

"I didn't. Until I saw your painting of me," you remind me, your hand caressing my cheek gently before pulling away from me, leaving me in the aftermath of another ache and another memory.

Sharlene Alba
Sharlene Alba
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Sharlene Alba

Full of raw and unfiltered fluid poems, short stories and prompts on love, sex, relationships and life. I also review haircare, skincare and other beauty products. Instagram: grungefirepoetry fleekonabudget Facebook: grungefirepoetry

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