Grant my last request and just let me hold you. Don’t shrug your shoulders. Lay down beside me. Sure, I can accept that we’re going nowhere, but one last time lets go there. Lay down beside me.
Paolo Nutini – Last Request
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He could feel the emotional distance growing, see it in the way she stopped asking about his day and greeting him with a smile. Somehow what started as a love so utterly combustible had burnt out in a hurry. It stung in ways he couldn’t understand to realize the end of them was approaching.
The swish of her stockings drew him from his melancholy thoughts.
When she walked into the room, he dropped his book to his lap and watched her move around. It was the first time he’d really stared at her in a long time. She removed her jewelry, humming to herself softly. He watched her slip out of her dress, bending to retrieve it from the floor, giving him a peek of her tiny panties and her long legs encased in black hold ups.
It affected him, aroused him to watch her move around so freely. With his arousal came the sadness. She didn’t acknowledge his presence, didn’t care to pay him any attention in that moment. Her lack of care as she peeled off her bra baring her breast seemed to fuel his arousal even as it cut him deep.
“Come to bed.”
His request, no his command, seemed to startle her. She turned toward him, surprise written on her face.
Her brow creased. “I will when I’m finished undressing.”
“No, come now.” He sat his book on the night stand and rose from the bed. “Now.”
The way her face changed, her eyes flaring with heat, sent that need to have her into a frenzy. One last time.
He saw the moment she acquiesced. Her body softened in those ways he remembered well. He waited by the bed, confident she’d come to him. And she did, her feet soft on the carpet and her eyes trained on him as she approached.
She was within touching distance when he pulled her to him. The way their mouths connected was so familiar. It was an old song he remembered loving so much. He ravaged her mouth, taking and taking, dominating her. When the need to breath overcame his need to taste her lips, he broke contact. He tweaked her nipple, loving the way her swollen lips parted on a gasp.
“Bend over the bed.”
She obeyed without a word, draping her body over the comforter with a sigh.
He admired her there. The line of her back, the width of her hips, the curve of her beautiful ass. He committed her to memory like a photograph.
Palming her butt, her savored the feel of her skin. He gave a squeeze that made her rear up. With a harsh laugh, he pushed her back down on the bed. When his hand slipped between her thighs, he smiled when he found her soaked.
“You’ll always be my naughty girl.”
He freed his cock, pushed the scrape of fabric to the side, and slid in deep on the first stroke.
“Oh, God,” she moved, her body tight and wet around him.
He held still, his eyes closed for a long moment to add this one more memory. Just the two of them, remembering how things used to be.
