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When I struggle in his grasp, it’s not to get away. They say two things can never touch. So he holds me tight, and still, it’s not enough.

If only I could pull you through me with a kiss. But it’s only longing, trapped inside infinitesimal space.

I don’t recall everything as well as I’d like. I remember the lights not working. I remember my bra hook getting caught in my hair. And I remember Henry’s socks. Now, I hate the sock thing as much as the next girl, but I remember telling him to keep them on. I liked that they were a gift from his wife.

ABOUT HER, an adults-only free read, available now 💋 vocal.media/filthy/about-her-e

But my favourite moment is when we enter the daylight hemisphere. When light bounces off the blue planet and into our tiny ship. It skims across his chest, his yet unshaven roguish good looks. My heart is a solar cell; photovoltaics in love.

Sometimes it's lather, rinse, repeat, you know? Same old same old. But this touch of yours just gets me; finger tip, tongue tip, all the rest. You're in my head and hiding round the corner. Maybe that's just you, baby. One surprise after another, up to the final kiss.

She’s his now, voicing her surrender into the blankets. His hair covers his eyes, but he watches her—I’m sure of it—the way a starving animal watches its prey. He devours the curves and shapes of her beautiful body, giving into what nature designed him to do.

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JL boosted

“Don’t worry, love, your secret’s safe with me. You’re actually not that obvious about it.”

“I didn’t think I was obvious about it at all!”

“Maybe not to anyone else, but I see it. I thought Laks might too, but she’d sure as hell be talking about it if she even had an inkling. I reckon anyone would like to see you two hook up, though. Even if it’s just to give our little princess a conniption.”

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Soon. You’ll ask me soon. But first, we’re tongue to tongue, lips to lips, forehead to forehead. I’m taut and holding on, certain my pulse is rippling the surface of my skin.

But when you pull away, I just see stillness, and the gold of sunset light cast across it. The trees around the lake are part-way to dark silhouettes. A lone bird calls in the distance. I eye the switch in your hands and wonder: how hard can you hit me before it starts to hurt?

vocal.media/filthy/a-first-for

"Two strangers going for dinner might sound like a date, but let's consider ourselves friends now. You know my name. You know where I live—at least, while I'm in town."

"What about Mrs. Aston?"

my.w.tt/13iiIBatg3

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The clocktower bell rang the hour. She left him clean and pink-cheeked.

"You'd better get to class."

"I'll call you later."

She smiled. "We'll see."

Hands on hips, she straightened her hat and turned back to her work. The bushes always looked a fright this time of year, but no matter. Something would bloom soon enough.

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As he bumbled over the tiny wound, she dropped the secateurs. Clumsy with roses, clumsy with words, this boy—and yet, such clever eyes. They matched the emblem on his varsity blazer.

Taken by the spring, she held his finger to her lips and sucked it. His voice faded into the rustling distance.

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