Wicked Wednesday #105 — Holiday House

When Eliza was younger, she used to spend holidays with her parents in their holiday home. House No. 9 was sold as a luxury accommodation, but ended up being the simple quarters for the help. Her parents did not mind though, and they made it homey if not luxurious in their own way. Floors to ceiling covered with books to begin with, and in every nook and cranny of the house.
It was easy for Fiona to stay there, lost in novels. But when she met Rafe whose parents owned a house further away, she would often sneak out barefoot to meet him. She was in college then, and her parents were very liberal about sex, but she still did not want them to know that she was out all night.
Tomorrow was her flight back to New York which, Fiona had not been at all upset about when she told her. Eliza was sad because she knew she was part of the reason why Fiona did not want to come back to New York.
However at this moment, she was not concerned as much as she would be when she was back in New York. She crept out like she did from house No. 9, but this time she was seeking Oscar.
Lust kept her awake. She had not eaten and barely slept since the reception, unable to focus on anything but having Oscar skin to skin, mouth to mouth…inside her…She was in the lobby of the building before she even remembered to put on her shoes. All she had thrown on was a trench coat and nothing else.
Shanghai was gorgeous at night, she thought in the taxi her body heavy with erotic anticipation against the backseat. Whenever she thought of the city, she would think of Oscar. The same as with Paris. She would always connect them with him. Right then she especially thought of him, as she felt the silkiness of her thighs brush her engorged labia. She did not want to put her hands there, because nothing would feel like Oscar there. Her body though rebelled against her resistance.
Oscar waited for her in the lobby of his hotel, which made her smile. It was some ungodly hour of the morning, when he took her hand she felt contractions between her legs. She had never had this kind of desire for a man before, and it was something that she could barely handle.
In the elevator, his hands were in her hair and her lips were pressed to his chest. He was barely touching her, and she was half ready to come.
When they walked into his apartment, she took off her coat immediately, but did not make a move toward him. She did not want to rush into anything, but she wanted him to know that she was ready for anything, at any time. That she was at his disposal even though her desire was at the brim.
Oscar put his arm around her, and she buried her face in the crispness of his shirt. He stroked his fingers over the side of her face, and she leaned into him even more. Their silence was heavy. All she thought about was she was returning to New York and leaving him an insane amount of miles away.
“Your flight is tomorrow,” he stated softly and she nodded into his chest.
She did not want to ask any questions because they would all lead to answers she knew already.
They stood like that for awhile before her fingers slipped into the opening between the buttons of his shirt. His lips touched her temple with tenderness. The throbbing between her legs murmured deeper and deeper desire, but she had no intention of rushing.
Every gesture that followed was like a ballet. Kisses like a soft moment when the music slows between partners. Her delicate movement around him almost as a secret, his hands and mouth supporting every gesture. Finally, he lifted her and she threw her head back, their game of seduction over.
The end of their performance found them curled on his sheets, bare, pensive.
It killed her not to know when they would be together like this again, but she did not react now. More quiet declarations of love were made when they faced each other, but she could not bear the words spoken now. Spoken now to be left hanging in New York.
When she was on the airplane, her heart raced on its taxi as they lifted, before she fell back in her seat.
Fiona beside her.
“You know it was really awful of me to want you to tell everyone I was not coming back. It is even more awful of me to want to not see your wedding. You are Rafe’s and my sister.” Fiona squeezed Eliza’s hand, and Eliza bit her trembling lip. Fortunately, no tears came to her eyes. She understood very well now why Fiona had been so blasé, as she pressed her head to the cool window of the airplane and resigned to her fate.

More Wicked Wednesday here:

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8 comments

  1. Fantastic! Once again, you worked the prompt into the story brilliantly. I loved your description of Eliza’s passion for Oscar. I have to wait another week for more? Sigh.

  2. I just love how you use the prompt in every post, but still write your own story. And I have said it before, but I have to say this again: I just LOVE this story!

    Rebel xox

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