'Wilted Sheets': A very short love story
A little slice of fiction
The respite is gone before it starts. Tara is on her side, the cream-coloured sheets crisp and cool against her dewy skin, when she feels Benny’s weight hover over her frame. She’s getting no sleep before tonight’s event; that much is clear. She does not at all mind.
“Whatever we want?” he solicits in her ear after kissing her shoulder. She shudders beneath him.
His voice is soft, deep, emotional. This long overdue reunion means much to him; it means much to her, too.
“Whatever we want,” Tara confirms warmly.
“I want you.” He naughtily whispers against her lips.
“Again?”
“Still.”
His closeness, the firmness of him leave her positively breathless. Her mouth opens to moan against his lips.
“Yes.”
Wanting him had never not been true. Not even in the last eight months when they had been apart. The tangled skeins of their history never unknot despite their physical distance. Whether spent alone or with another, Tara’s mind conjured Benny often. Felt the ghost of him on her skin whenever she got off.
“I want to be on top of you.” Tara offers.
The warm zephyr of her breath caresses his face like a summer breeze. Wholly intoxicated, he stares down at her face, seeing there a study in desire. This woman! Benny muses. Without her, he is undone. With her, there is no obstacle he cannot face.
Everything is right and good with her.
Tara climbs Mount Benny in earnest, determined to conquer him in her love and bring upon them both cataclysms of ecstasy. Reunited now, they have life, liberty. And since Tara has all but moved into Benny’s tiny flat as she re-establishes herself in the city, she and the love of her life pursue happiness at every opportunity.
The sinewy planes of Tara’s back beckon Benny’s fingers. It is a map that leads him to memories of the night before she left. The love they made and how she looked when he revealed his plans for their future together—these thoughts threaten to overwhelm him as he holds her tight. She made him hope that night.
Right now, too, feels hopeful. As the pads of Benny’s hand circle the small of Tara’s back before kneading her well-toned derrière, he takes the liberty to luxuriate in the possibilities swimming through his mind. And when Tara sinks down on his shaft he is transported deep into their future plain. Where she stays and doesn’t run. Where they build and don’t come apart.
“I’ve missed you.” He speaks between kisses as Tara gives him her all. “I’ve missed… us”.
Tara responds by kissing him senseless, her tongue relishing in his pliant mouth. God, she wants him, especially when he says things like that. Wants to imprint herself on him. In him. All over him. He would always be hers, on every continent and even in death.
She sees flashes of their future in his eyes, children in the intensity of his gaze. Ones that bear both their names. She could shy away, squeeze tight against these reflections, but she won’t. For this exchange of orbital conjuring remains a secret language eight years strong between them; their morse code in times of war. Their call to disarm.
Peace prevails. Tonight.
As witness to Benny’s blue-shaded timeline, Tara’s amber looking-glass shows him their home on the city's outskirts, his hand on the swell of her belly. Suspended in time, bouncing and swerving in his lap, her mind entertains every prospect for them.
These thoughts, these sensations, the way her firm nipples brush against the short hairs of his chest—all of it has Tara heated.
Benny adds accelerant when he flips them over and begins pelting her with long, purposeful thrusts. His cock reaches places she didn’t think existed inside her. He reigns supreme over her being. Better than love, they make delicious, and it cannot be bottled, taught, or sold.
Delicious. That is what Benny thinks as he watches her now that they are face to face once more in the lotus position. Her chin grazes the tip of his nose as she moans, causing him to grunt in return. She is beatific like the night sky when she bites her lip; her face contains wonders he would never grow tired of beholding. Ensconced in the warm cavern of her wetness, he has no right to be jealous of a lip. Jealous he is. He wants to be bitten. He wants everything she would give him. And he would give her everything.
Lost in these sheets, Tara could no longer count how many times today he’d been inside her. Only the body keeps that score. Far from sore, Tara feels the kindling embers inside her begin to rage, ready to erupt like a volcano and flood them both in the hot lava of her satisfaction.
“Behhhnn,” she keens in that way that destroys him and gives him reason to breathe. She is at that place, and he knows it.
“There is no better feeling than you,” Benny huffs.
His voice is strangled from the effort not to come before she does. The filthy, wicked games he plays with words whispered in her ear make her belly tighten. Soon, she is unspooling in a breathy song streamed against his mouth.
Benny, overcome by the quaking pulsations of her walls, succumbs to his orgasm. Where she leads, he would follow.
The crisp sheets are wilted from the heat these lovers create. Their liberated bodies, coursing with natural hormonal highs, rest for now. Benny lies chest to bed, and Tara’s breasts make a bed of Benny’s back. His messy curls become a playground for her fingers. Bliss, please. The world outside that bedroom is and isn’t. Proving they can work outside the bedroom is a reality to be faced tomorrow.
Time is theirs to own. This is what happiness feels like.
