Things aren't as nice as they were a few months ago. As cuffing season looms, Greta wraps herself around a cascade of bad decisions as she tries to take back what she had lost. But whether that'd be an assured future with Julien or a chaotic love wi...
Again, she found herself back here in this familiar and cozy space.
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The quiet of his apartment was a relief, unyielding to be felt like old times. Her eyes hadn't left him, even after Malik closed the door and stood there at a distance.
So she kept that very distance, believing that they were on their way to some kind of foreplay that was yet another test of her patience for this very moment. Then, he went on to ask her, "What made you change your hair?"
Greta brushed her fingers through the tresses of her earthy-toned locks, almost ashamed of their coloring now. All it had done was remind her of the fact that deep down, she missed her blonde hair, she missed the way it would look and feel whenever it was under his touch.
Suddenly, she felt her phone ringing in her pockets, then she smirked before texting back. "It's Lulu," she said. "I was supposed to be over there tonight."
"You want me to drop you off?"
"Fuck no."
She was succumbing to the honesty of her emotions tonight. She didn't love her hair. She didn't love Julien. If she could, she'll pack everything up in that loft and move right in here, right with the person that was making her happy tonight.
"I'll change it back if you want," She suggested. "the hair, I mean."
But Malik shook his head, walking towards her through the darkness. "I like how you look either way." He cupped her face into his hands when he kissed her, all the while her fingers traced the way around his waist, holding him closely.
Their kissing led them to halt their bodies against the kitchen counter. All the slow, sensuality they displayed in the diner had been unmasked to reveal the sloppy mess that was their yearning.
Tongues were sucked into mouths, lips consumed the flesh of their necks. Moans were extracted, and at the moment Greta's eyes rolled back into yearning, she ran her hands down in between them. She took his hand, leading her towards the helm of her dress.
The skirt was lifted, and his warm fingers slipped past her panties to rub through the innermost layers of her labia. Greta shivered into the momentum of her pleasure. His fingers ran smooth, tender even. The further he rubbed, the deeper he applied the pressure on her wetness. Greta's hands found a home clinging to his broad shoulders, never wanting to let go as the pleasure increased.
"Fuck!" She mewled away. He was inside her now, and her naked legs quivered through this new insertion. Trying to maintain some focus, she kissed him deeply. But it was all only in vein as her mouth hung in perpetual openness. "I- I swear... I'm gonna make a mess, Georgia Boy."
