The Gravity of Peaches

Remy growled, her hips arching off the bed, seeking my mouth. “Less talking, more licking,” she demanded, her voice rough with need.

I laughed, the sound turning to a moan as I finally gave in, my tongue swiping through her folds in one long, slow lick. She tasted like honey and salt and something indefinably female, and I hummed my approval, my hands sliding up her thighs to grip her hips, holding her in place as I set to work.

I took my time, savoring her, learning her, my tongue tracing patterns against her slick flesh until she was writhing beneath me, her hands fisted in my hair, her breath coming in ragged gasps. I lost myself in the taste of her, in the feel of her, in the desperate, needy sounds she made as I pushed her closer and closer to the edge. And when she finally broke, when she came with a cry that echoed in the small room, her body shuddering against mine, I felt a surge of pure, unadulterated joy, a heady rush that had me grinning against her thigh like a fool.

We lay entwined in the aftermath, our bodies slick with sweat, the air thick with the scent of peaches and sex and the damp earth smell drifting through the open window. The storm had passed, the thunder fading to a distant rumble, the rain slowing to a gentle patter on the roof. Remy’s head rested on my chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my skin, her leg thrown over mine in a casual possessiveness that made my heart clench.

“You’re staying,” she murmured, her voice rough with sleep, and it wasn’t a question.

I smiled, my fingers skimming through her hair, untangling the sweat-damp strands. “For a little while,” I agreed, my own voice soft in the quiet room.

“Good.” She pressed a kiss to my breastbone, her lips soft and warm. “Because I’m not done with you yet, Ellie.”

I shivered, a fresh wave of want washing over me at her words, and I knew that this, whatever this was, was far from over. It was reckless, foolish, a temporary madness that would likely end in heartbreak, but as the first hints of dawn painted the sky outside the window, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

For the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt alive, truly alive, and I never wanted it to end. This night, this stolen moment with Remy, would forever alter me, a secret sweetness to carry back into the world, a reminder of the woman I could be when I let myself want, when I let myself take.

The gravity of peaches, indeed.