Rules: Feel free to join my daily prompt challenges by writing a story of 500 words or less centered around the prompt word. If you write it on your own blog, please, link back to mine. My main playground is erotica and romance but you can write your story in any genre.
Prompt word: #Coffee
Photo Source: Favim
Triggers: Angst and sadness
The golden wisps of her flowing hair covered his chest when he rose from the deep slumber. She had embraced his body, with head buried in his shoulder just like in the old times when they were living together.
Back then he complained how clingy that was. So many things about her used to annoy him. How she was cuddling, like an affectionate kitten. Her naive poems she’d scribble on pieces of paper and leave in random places; in his pocket, on his bedside table, on top of the coffee machine. The chaos of scattered pastel silk dresses. How she marked his neck with pink lipstick and whispered sweet nonsense in his ear late in the night.
He never thought he’d miss her quirks.
It’s been too long since he felt her heavenly skin and creamy curves. Since he tasted these raspberry lips and sank fingers between her thighs. All he wanted in that sad, rainy morning was to capture the moment for a little longer.
She fluttered her eyelashes and looked up at him in shock. As if she couldn’t believe his body was beneath hers. His scarred arms wrapped around her naked frame. Sleepiness and confusion faded from her eyes and she lowered her gaze with guilt.
So cute. There was still something left of the naive, optimistic girl he first fell in love with.
“I… I’ll prepare some coffee. You must leave.”
He nodded and ran a finger down the raspberry of her lips. She asked him not to ravage them but he couldn’t help but sink his teeth while he’d been pounding her body the previous night.
“I wish we had more time.” His gravelly voice sounded more forlorn than he planned to.
“There’s never enough time, remember?”
Her hair used to be wavy, with sassy curls that gave her innocent face a wicked expression. When she pulled away from his embrace the long mane of gold cascaded down to her shoulder blades.
She picked up her silk robe and uttered in a defeated voice.
“I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.”
His gaze fell on the framed photograph on the bedside table.
She had already prepared two cups of steaming coffee when he finally got up, dressed to leave. They spent a long time just sipping when he noticed something.
“I thought you hated black coffee?”
He remembered the mountains of whipped cream in her mugs.
“I used to…” Blonde strands of hair covered her face. “Once we broke up I… I started drinking it like that. I missed the taste of your lips.”
He reached out to touch her hand but stopped himself. Her shoulders were shaking and she squeezed the cup harder.
Later, she walked him to the door and looked at him briefly with reddened, swimming eyes.
“I…” He leaned forward for one last taste.
“Just go. Please.” Her long fingers stroked the stubble on his chin and moved back.
He walked out the door and didn’t turn back.
Until next time.