Aim to Please (wlw)

ch. 10 • what a joke

My body ached, my nipples were sore. I winced as I moved my tongue over my teeth— What? I bent my tongue inward and jumped when I hit the spot where the muscle connects to the bottom of the mouth.

"I split my fucking tongue," I whispered incredulously.

Whispers of her finger tips trailed up and down my back. "Mm. Good morning, amante."

And then realization hit me like a baseball bat swung by Babe Ruth himself: the past 24 hours wasn't a dream.

I flipped over to face Laurie, immediately blushing. She was on her back, bathed by the morning light from the window across from us. Her slender frame was partially out of the blankets, the swell of her breasts sloping downward. I gravitated towards them, kissing the soft droop closest to me until my lips wrapped around her little button of a nipple.

Laurie moaned and jerked. "Mackenzie...What are you doing?"

"Having fun," I muttered around her flesh, nipping the bud. Her skin was taut as I caressed down her stomach, down her thigh, then back up.

A harsh, tingling pain scattered across my scalp. I squeaked, her breast popping out of my mouth as my head was held at a backwards angle. Shockwaves of bliss permeated my soul and I dared not fight against Laurie's deathgrip.

"Now, now," she purred softly, tugging my head downward. I rested it back on my pillow after readjusting to lay on my back again.

Laurie kept her fingers tangled in my hair, softly massaging the hair follicles she almost forcefully removed. Her other hand slithered down my torso; no random twists or turns or teases. She parted my lips and slowly dragged her middle finger up and down the length of my core.

"Nnh, Laurie," I whined, squirming.

"You do not like when the tables turn? Hmm," the woman taunted, continuing her diminutive teasing. She kissed down my chest, engulfing one of my nipples and nibbling.

I moaned low, my back muscles contracting. There was something about this woman that was addicting— the touches burned in the most passionate ways, her scent mixed with mine a powerful aphrodisiac. I wanted to be hers, in totality— I required to be hers, marked by an invisible compulsion.

"I love it when you sing for me," Laurie murmured, a hint of a growl in her voice. Just as quickly as the 'tables turned', she disappeared.

The lack of touch left me cold and begging. I felt the shift of the bed and coerced my eyes open. Laurie was pulling on her shirt, my attention flitting to the conundrum of her body: soft with age and femininity, sharp with an angular edge that tucked in her waist. Her stretch marks, few and easily hidden, called out to me— I wanted to trace each one with my lips, to worship every mole or beauty mark.

"We are getting out of this apartment," my temptress claimed, terse and exact. "To eat real food and see the sun."

I pouted. "You act like we've stayed in my bedroom this whole—"

"I want eggs benedict and a mimosa," she cut me off, eyebrows raised. Grouch.

"Fine."

"A shower, some breakfast, and a conversation," Laurie smiled apologetically at the end.

"Just leave me here," I complained, earning a glare.

•

On her third mimosa, Laurie finally spoke up.

"Mackenzie, where should we go from here?"

I stopped mid-chew. The question was simple but so complex. It was a question I hated answering, and have all my life. There was finality hidden within its words— implied to be implemented towards the favor of the most painful option.