Lamentations VI

Laura giggled.

It was one of those uncontrollable giggles like she used to get back in high school before debates, albeit this one wasn’t from a case of nerves. No, this was outright amusement at what she was seeing … on the ceiling of hers and Bill’s new bedroom.

Glitter.

She’d just laid back on their makeshift bed, flat on her back, her feet toward his head and, gazing up, her eyes immediately caught the tell-tale sparkling above her and the laughter just bubbled up out of her.

It was absurd, wholly absurd, but she couldn’t help it. It seemed everywhere they went, there was glitter in the flocking on the ceiling, an affectation that seemed to perturb her lover whenever he looked at it and that she confessed even she didn’t entirely understand.

Seeing it now…

“What?”

His question only made it worse. Or maybe it was the many swigs of ambroisa that were to blame. But she was giggling like a mad woman and had him chuckling with her.

Gods, she loved that sound. Soft, raspy and deep, it filled the room, a rich undercurrent to her own gleeful cackles in the firelight.

After the insanity of the day, it felt good to laugh, to hear him laugh. She didn’t even try to stifle her amusement. She just let it run its course, knowing that they would not last, that reality would return soon enough.

In response to Bill’s question, she just pointed up and waited for it, rising her head and looking down along her body to see his face, to watch his grin slowly broaden as he saw what she’d seen. When those damnable blue eyes of landed on her again, they were filled with amusement and love, always love.

“If you’re ever president, please outlaw that,” he chuckled.

She snorted amidst her giggles, scoffing at the notion of her ever being president. “I’ll put it at the top of my to-do list,” she said then laughed louder when an image ran through her mind. She flashed her eyebrows at her lover, suggesting, “Maybe we could replace it with mirrors.”

His chest shook with his amusement. “You’re tipsy,” he observed.

Her whole body shaking, she held up a hand, thumb and forefinger just a bit apart. “Just a little,” she confessed, smiling unabashedly at him.

His expression softened under her gaze and she watched him take a deep breath as his laughter tapered, the mood shifting as he rumbled, “I do like looking at you.”

She felt herself grow breathless and it had nothing to do with her outburst of giggles, which were rapidly waning as his gaze heated. It sometimes amazed her how quickly desire found them, especially at their ages. But admittedly, there were other things at play tonight, things she didn’t want to think about, wanted to forget, so she latched on to what he offered, stepped through the door he’d opened.

“I’ve noticed,” she said softly, holding his gaze, her breath fleeing with her next words. “Do you want to see?”

He didn’t say a word, just moved his hand slowly but deliberately from where it rested on his thigh to gently grasp her ankle. She let him position her, drawing her foot up and swinging her leg over his body, the bend of her knee straddling his waist, the back of her thigh touching his belly. She moved her other leg of her own accord, drawing it akimbo, exposing her sex to him without an ounce of self-consciousness.

She wanted him to look, to see.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as he did, folding one of his arms back behind his head on the pillow. He just gazed at her, his eyes moving over her, making her flesh grow heavy with want. But she said and did nothing, just let him look while his other hand gently caressed her, moving back and forth between her knee and inner thigh, and she tried desperately not to melt under the intensity of his gaze and the heat of his touch.

When he spoke, a wave of … something … moved through her, head to toe and back again.

“My cum is still in you.”

It was such a desperately intimate observation and the truth in it made her flush hot. How could it not when she lay there so exposed with him, in every way? She had no secrets from him when they were like this, had nothing to hide, and there was nothing she wouldn’t confess, wanting him to know…

“I never understood the beauty of that before you,” she breathed, and it was the truth. She had always liked that, how it felt, but it had always been a short-lived fondness, until him, love making all the difference in how she perceived that particular intimacy, and others.

At her words, his fingers grazed over her pussy, a light touch that made her hum. Then he made a request that might have been a command, that spawned an intense throb deep inside her womb.

“Masturbate for me.”

She didn’t question. She didn’t hesitate. She did what he wanted.

She touched herself.

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