The Night - Original Writing Essay
At the moment, I’m leaning on the counter in the kitchen, biting into a juicy, unpeeled peach as I watch Noah descend the stairs from his room, perfecting his necktie with one hand, his suit jacket thrown over his other arm. Hair groomed, face freshly shaved, ready to kick the crap out of another day.
I’m abruptly slammed with a flashback of him pounding into me, sweat dripping off the face, submerged in hardcore pleasure. My stomach twists, nipples harden, and I have to close my eyes and count to twenty, willing myself to cool the heck down. But dammit, it’s hard. Last night was just so…so…delicious. I can’t stop thinking about it.
When I next open my eyes, all calmed down and fifty-percent less aroused, Noah is at the island, placing his jacket over the back of one of the breakfast stools before taking a seat in the one next to it.
“Why are you still wearing that?” he absently asks as he lifts the dome from his dish, revealing a hearty breakfast of bacon-scrambled eggs,…