Cherry Bomb

The sun was setting as I lit up another cigarette and I sighed, rubbing a hand across my face and pinching the top of my nose. I stared at the laptop screen in front of me, attempting to rack up another 200 words of bullshit for my article due for tomorrows evening paper.

My mind lifted up and away from the words on the screen, so bright it hurt my eyes and my inner eye focused on something a lot more lovely. My Rosalie. My heart twinged when I thought of her. It reacted to her face in a way that hadn’t happened in years...

It scared me but I knew it wouldn’t make me stay away.
Somehow deep down, I knew that Rosalie was a flyer. I couldn’t see her settling down. She wouldn’t kiss me every morning on the way to work, handing me a mug of coffee to waken up my day. She was the type that would tell me to fuck work and drink instead. Who knows?
I didn’t know at all. I had met her not even a handful of times. I had kissed her several times, the memory of which made something in the southern region of my body start to stiffen.

Maybe I needed to forget her. But it already seemed too hard. I had drunk her into my body, my soul and god, all I wanted was more.

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.

A moan eased past my lips as I pushed myself up from my desk. I stretched out my back, which cracked in relief, happy to have escaped the hunched position I had forced myself into for several hours.

I scratched my ass, opening the door and blinked, once, twice...thinking I had finally become cracked and was hallucinating.

But I wasn’t, her smile which flashed for a second across that luscious mouth could not be imagined. She was here, at my door. My eyes raked her face, her pale, clear skin and her bright eyes as they danced with mine.

I didn’t even speak as with a black nailed hand, she pushed my door open further and walked into my home. Her heels clicked against the floor. That noise had always annoyed me with other girls but not with Rosalie. It suited her. She was announcing herself to the place, walking out her, “I am here.”

I gulped and closed the door. She no longer had her guitar but she must have followed me home hours earlier. How else would she know where I lived? Was I in the phone book? I didn’t even know myself.

“Rosalie, what are you do-“

My question was cut short as she clicked over to me in those heels and her surprisingly strong hands pushed me back into the wall. Her red mouth came down upon mine and a fever awoke in us. I pushed her with my body, my arms encircling her waist, walking her backwards till she hit the arms of the couch and we fell back upon it. My body covered her like a blanket and I relished in her moan as I slid kissed down her neck. Her legs wrapped around my waist like a vice.

Somehow we made it to the bedroom. She stepped back from me for a moment and stared at me. My breath was coming in gasps and my lips felt strange with hers not upon them. We looked at each other and she smirked as her gaze flicked downwards. Let’s just say, my arousal was very obvious.

Ignoring her, I grabbed her again, flinging her onto the bed. I loved doing that with girls It showed off masculine strength to the max. It made men think they were in control and we loved it. I pushed her top up, my tongue flicking out as I kissed her smooth stomach. The white of her skin shocked me for a moment. I had never seen anyone so perfectly pale and it made me want to see more of her.

I managed to take her top off without ripping it. I ripped a girl’s top once and she didn’t talk to me again. Apparently it was Stella McCartney. Whatever.
Rosalie’s hands ran through my hair as I kissed downwards, over the top of her breasts peeking out over her bra. I unclasped it with ease, flinging it away and there they were. She was wonderful and so were they, and I couldn’t help but moan with the helplessness they drew out of me. How could a man be anything but a slave to such perfection?
I peeled away her tight skinny jeans, my lips brushing the inside of her thighs, making her shiver with delight.

Her hands began to deftly unbutton my own jeans and whip off my t-shirt (I think I heard a barely audible rip). When her mouth touched me, I had to grasp my sheets and air escaped out of my mouth in a barely contained whoosh. This was actually happening.
She was in all her glory when we came together. Her bare limbs enclosed me in a cocoon and her bright red hair shimmered every time she moved her head. My eyes watched the movement of it in awe.

When it was all over, she parted from me but didn’t leave the bed. Her naked body was made for the sheets and they smothered her lovingly. I pulled on my boxer shorts and then leaned back into the sheets myself. I didn’t look so good in them.

I moved to the side so I was looking at the back of her head. Her breath was coming evenly now but I didn’t know if she was asleep. My own eyes began to drift shut but I managed to reach out and rest my hand on her wais. I felt the flutter of her fingertips over mine before sleep took me.

It was at some point in the middle of the night that I woke up to an empty bed. I sat up, still half asleep and noticed the bathroom light on and the door ajar. She was standing there in her black lace underwear and bra. She was staring at herself in the mirror.
There was something wrong with the reflection I could see, and it took me a moment. The lips were a pale pink, a natural colour. The youth in her face was suddenly apparent and it was then her eyes met mine in the mirror. She could see me looking at her.

Her foot neatly kicked the door closed but just before it shut, I caught a glimpse of the bright red lipstick being put back into place.