The Persistence of Memory

Chapter Nineteen

***

I wonder who told her she fidgeted and talked in her sleep? Him? If it was he's a liar because I'd been watching her for about an hour and she hasn't fidgeted or spoken once. At least I think it's been an hour. Time seemed weirdly abstract here. We'd only been here a night but it was like I couldn't remember a time before this, and I can't really seem to imagine a time after. I don't want to imagine it.

She's naked, the white sheet covering part of one perfect breast, her hands resting by her sides as she sleeps deeply. I'd had a deep sleep too but I'd woken up thirsty, disorientated and confused, with the fur from last night's red wine coating my tongue. Careful not to wake her, I'd gotten up, scrubbed my teeth and tongue, then drank a gallon of water before coming back to bed to find her in exactly the same position I'd left her.

The luxury of sleeping with her was to be savoured. I felt lucky again. Only she could do that. Make me feel lucky. Though right now I feel deprived of her; I miss her voice and her eyes and how I feel when they're on me. All of which is ridiculous since she's fucking asleep, not dead.  So now I'm competing with sleep for her attention? I almost laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of it. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me?

It's eerily silent here. No traffic or people noises whatsoever, which when I think back is something I've never experienced. I'd grown up in Belfast, then moved to London, and I've spent the last five weeks living in New York. Apart from going camping when I was 15, I'd never woken up in a place that was this quiet. Yet, it feels alive; this quiet, still, secluded place by the lake, it smells alive. I feel alive.

Eloise moans softly and shifts, stretching her legs out and kicking the sheet a little further off her body to expose her right leg and hip. The thought that enters my head at the sight of her long pale legs is filthy and desperate. But I can't get rid of it once it's in there. I want to spread them and bury my mouth between them. I want to wake her up with my tongue. I glance back to her sleeping face.

To your mouth down there? I think you know how I'd react.

I move, shifting my body down the bed until I'm parallel with her hip then I peel the sheet back from her body gently to expose her a little more. Her legs are open slightly and the small strawberry blonde triangle leading down between her legs makes my tongue itch. My tongue felt useless most of the time - it was rarely ever able to perform it's primary function of talking - so it's just keen to get back to something it's good at I guess.

As I think about how I'm going to do this without waking her she moves again, toward me this time, turning herself into a much better position and settling with her knee pulled up slightly giving me far better access. I move onto my elbows and lean over her to lower my head between her legs. I inhale deeply before touching the tip of my tongue to the soft folds between her legs.

Fucking hell.

That smell. Her smell. It's fucking incendiary. I open my mouth to capture her with my tongue. Sweet and warm and soothing to my dry itchy tongue. Pushing my tongue inside a little, I feel her body twitch but her eyes stay closed. I move my hands to grip her upper thighs and angle myself better before sliding my tongue deep inside her.  She makes a soft feminine moaning noise and her legs open a little wider as a tremble runs down over her body. My eyes close over as I inhale the clean scent of her skin again and she begins to move against my mouth.

When I open my eyes and look up, I see her staring down at me with a dazed and aroused look her face, her cheeks reddening with the flush she gets whenever she's turned on. She bites her lip and gasps loudly as I move my tongue faster, tilting my head to lick and suck on her sensitive spot, which feels burning hot on my lips.